Conquered by the Mafia Boss

The president holds out his hand for me to shake, but I just can’t stomach looking into that fucking asshole’s eyes and taking his hand as though he’s my equal. An image of Mike’s lifeless body in the hospital bed flashes, and my face slowly burns. I feel like I can imagine it going black and curling backward, like that biker Tommy torched to avenge my brother.

That makes me smile.

I take his hand, and it’s like a battle of who can crush the other guy first.

“These are the girls who are willing to provide an alibi for you.”

Johnny crosses his arms. “If everyone keeps their mouth shut, we can put this behind us.”

Cold rage brews in my chest as Johnny gives me a quelling look. Put this behind us? I look around for a friendly face, and see Sal, the underboss. He darkens as he meets my gaze and he very slightly shakes his head.

Don’t do anything stupid.

Pissed, I turn back toward the women they have lined up for me. They stand close together, looking vaguely unhappy as they avoid my gaze.

Which one am I supposed to pick? The one who seems the happiest or the one I see myself fucking?

“So, what am I supposed to do once I pick one? Throw her over my shoulder and walk out?”

My humor echoes hollowly in the clubhouse and Johnny gives me a withering look before he turns his head.

“This is just a meeting,” the president says, unsmiling.

Whatever.

My attention turns back to the row of women patiently waiting for me to make a decision. My eyes skip from pretty face to face, recognizing nothing but fear. I almost skip over the last one, too. Then my heart turns to stone. The long, highlighted blonde hair and deep-blue eyes strike me suddenly. That rosebud mouth was wrapped around my cock hours earlier. Holy shit, it’s her. The girl I banged in the club. What was her name?

Beatrice.

Her eyes fasten on me and she does a double take, her sullen features gradually hardening into grim resoluteness.

So I already fucked the biker bitch.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Well, well, well.

This is interesting. Either she scoped me out or this is one hell of a coincidence. Considering the lack of surprise on her face, I’d guess it’s the former.

Holy shit. Was does that mean?

Beatrice takes a small step back as I make a beeline toward her, ignoring the others. I stand a foot away from her, smelling the shampoo on her damp hair. Her pink lips, still flushed with the heat of the shower, look perfect. I want to wind my hand in her hair and crush those lips against mine. Without her makeup she looks even more vulnerable, though not as much as she did when she was naked under my hands.

Do not get hard right now.

Instead I just speak to her, almost trembling in anticipation. “I’d like a word with you in private.”

She lifts her gaze, looking over my shoulder to the president as though for permission, which makes heat flare in my chest.

His gravelly voice cracks the silence. “Go, Beatrice. Take my office.”

The girl who I fucked hours ago gives me a polite half-smile and walks toward a room across the hall. I open it for her and she walks inside, her limbs shaking. There’s a small walnut desk and a couple chairs. She wraps her arms around herself as I shut the door and then the silence in the small room suffocates us.

I can’t stop seeing her naked body. Mere hours ago she was completely and utterly mine. She clutches the edge of the desk, staring at me, and a sickening twist of self-disgust wrenches me. This girl represents everything I fucking hate, and I want to fuck her again.

“I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“It’s Jack, right?”

She uses the French pronunciation for my name, the staccato sound clipping from her tongue. A deep, buried memory of my mother surfaces to my brain. She bends down from her chair, arms outstretched: Jack, viens ici.

She’s gone, too.

“Yeah.” My voice sounds unnecessarily loud in the small room. I approach her and she clings to that desk like it’s life or death. I stop inches away from her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You don’t like being so close to me?”

Beatrice blinks her blonde lashes. “No,” she says defensively. Then she looks up in horror. “I didn’t mean that!”

Damn straight.

Fuck, she’s hot. It’s rare that a girl holds my interest like this, but I like the way she avoids my gaze and blushes prettily, just like a shy schoolgirl. I want to touch her, and I reach out to grab her shoulder, knowing she won’t stop me. She trembles a little as I slide my hand to the base of her neck. I held her just like this when she sucked my cock. It tightens in my pants as her heady scent ensnares me like a strong shot of tequila.

“Why did you scope me out in that club? Don’t deny it.”

She glances at me. “They told me what they wanted me to do. I just wanted to see if I’d like you.”

I guess that makes sense.

“From the way you were screaming, you seemed to like me a lot.”

The ache pounds as a pink blush spreads over her cheeks.

“I made a mistake.”

“You probably did.” I rub her throat with my thumb. “Did you want to sample my cock again before sealing the deal?”

A shard of anger cuts at me as she meets my gaze.

“We can fuck in this room if you’re still undecided-”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

I take a step back as she shoves my chest, looking furious. So the biker bitch has some personality after all. It’s amusing to see the horror falling over her face, and I laugh at how frightened she looks. My laughter dies and she stares at me with indignation.

“Why did you volunteer yourself for this?”

A defiant, hard look comes over her eyes. “None of your business.”

“So much fucking attitude. You weren’t like this at the club. You were so eager to be mine.”

The little freckles on her nose burn, along with the rest of her face.