Daddy's Captive: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  Daddy’s Captive

  By

  Stella Moore

  Copyright © 2020 by Stormy Night Publications and Stella Moore

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Moore, Stella

  Daddy’s Captive

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Shutterstock/Kiselev Andrey Valerevich and Shutterstock/Maquette.pro

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  More Stormy Night Books by Stella Moore

  Stella Moore Links

  Chapter One

  All around her, jewels glittered, dancing under the bright lights of the ballroom. Millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds and every other gemstone imaginable were draped around the necks of women who’d never had to work a day in their lives.

  She should know, since she was one of them. At least on the surface.

  Lifting a glass of champagne that wasn’t worth the two-thousand-dollar-a-bottle price tag to her lips, Amara Vitali let her gaze travel the room, searching for her date for the evening. Perhaps date wasn’t the most appropriate word, but target had such a negative connotation.

  The overly tart champagne was half gone by the time she located him. Standing off to the side, surrounded by a group of men who just barely toed the line between polished and sleazy, Robert Grayson tossed his head back and laughed at whatever pithy joke one of his companions had just made.

  Watching them was physically painful. A few women glided up to the group at times, and they were welcomed with seemingly chivalrous kisses to their dainty hands before being sent off again by whichever ‘gentleman’ they were currently attached to. The lewd, lingering glances that followed the women when they wandered away made her skin crawl. Luckily for her, it wasn’t long before the four glasses of whiskey Robert had downed in the past hour caught up to him, and he excused himself to the bathroom.

  Although she was well-known to nearly every person in attendance, nobody stopped her as she slipped through the crowd behind him. Women who came from families like hers weren’t exactly welcomed into high society with open arms. Oh, they gladly accepted her family’s money for their charities and their schools and their investment firms, but they held her firmly at more than arm’s length.

  Which was perfectly fine by her. God knew she’d be bored to tears inside an hour trying to live in their world. And maybe they were bored, considering the amount of Uncle Gio’s product everyone in this room consumed on a regular basis.

  After checking that she wasn’t being watched or followed, Amara quietly slipped into the men’s bathroom. Robert stood in front of a porcelain piss station, emptying his bladder through a rather unimpressive dick. He glanced over when she entered, a greasy smile curving his thin lips.

  “Ms. Vitali. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

  Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back. She was a professional, after all. Letting her lips lift into her best ‘fuck me’ smile, she dropped her voice to a low purr. “I was hoping to get a moment alone with you tonight.”

  The flaccid member in his hand lengthened a fraction at her words. “In the bathroom?” Despite his gaze lingering on her cleavage, the contempt was clear in his voice.

  “People talk,” she replied, playing up to his view of her, that she wasn’t worthy of a man like him. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  Apparently done with his bladder, he stroked his cock with a large, meaty hand as she approached. Pressing her body against his, she ran a hand up his inner thigh. “Allow me,” she whispered.

  When the needle pierced his femoral artery, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. But before he could cry for help, his body went rigid. She neatly sidestepped when he reached for her, letting him fall to the floor with a satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage. Not that he’d feel the broken nose for long, if at all. The dose of potassium chloride she’d just administered was enough to kill a man twice his size in under a minute.

  Confident that he wouldn’t recover even if he were discovered within that minute, she stepped around the body and made her way to the second entrance. The one the staff used to come and go without being seen, because God forbid the wealthy and powerful be forced to actually set eyes on the people who cleaned up their messes. Just inside the hallway was a janitor’s closet. Giving thanks to whoever had decided cleaning supplies didn’t need to be kept under lock and key, she slipped into the cramped space and retrieved the backpack she’d stashed there that morning.

  Another minute was all it took for her slip out of the slinky designer gown and needle-thin heels and into the black and white uniform with sensible sneakers worn by all of the hotel staff. With her short, jet-black hair tucked up under a baseball cap, she strode out of the closet, through the kitchens, and out the back door.

  Checking the dainty, diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist, she grinned as she crossed the parking lot. Ten minutes from the time she’d stepped into the bathroom to the moment she waltzed out the door. A personal best.

  Now that she was out of immediate danger, she let the excitement she’d held at bay flood her. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, sending her heart racing. God, there was nothing like the high from taking a life, especially someone as deserving as Robert Grayson had been.

  Uncle Gio, as she’d called him her entire life, didn’t place hits on a whim, like some men in his position were known to do. Taking a life was a last resort, an option only employed when negotiations had completely failed.

  Or when it was discovered that an individual had certain tastes or tendencies that couldn’t be ignored. Such as Grayson’s preference for underage boys. Very underage. Grayson’s mistake had been thinking that just because Giorgio Vitali engaged in questionable business dealings, he didn’t have any morals. Uncle Gio had disabused him of that notion the first time Grayson had approached him, but he’d felt a stronger message needed to be sent. And that was where she had come in.

  Humming happily to herself, Amara climbed into the snappy little sports car she’d hidden around the corner from the venue earlier in the evening. A limo had dropped her off at the event, but she wouldn’t risk Uncle Gio’s men being implicated if she could help it, so she always drove herself home after a job.

  Driving also gave her an outlet for all the pent-up energy the adrenaline rush inevitably gave her. In deference to the chilly October air, she left the top up, but she didn’t hold back when she hit the mostly empty interstate. Radar traps didn’t scare her—there wasn’t a cop in a hundred-mile radius stupid enough to give a ranking member of the Vitali family a ticket.

  So she let herself fly, weaving between the few cars scattered along the highway with the ease of a seasoned racecar driver. Under
different circumstances, she might have pursued racing as a career, but Uncle Gio never would have allowed it. She could hear him now, in her mind, telling her it was far too dangerous and unbecoming of a woman of her station.

  Murder, however, was just part of the family business. The irony of it didn’t escape her, but her life was full of paradoxes.

  Once she’d driven off most of the excess energy, she turned the car back toward home. Mikey was manning the booth at the front gate, and he waved her through with a polite, if slightly bored smile. More than once, Amara had suggested upgrading their security to include facial recognition and automated entry, but Uncle Gio preferred having a man guarding the entrance. It was no secret the elder Vitali didn’t trust technology, so she’d never bothered to press the issue. With a nod for Mikey, she drove through the gates and up the winding hill to the ‘House Prohibition Built,’ as she often thought of it.

  Leaving her car in the drive instead of putting it away in the garage as she’d been lectured on a hundred times, she climbed the short staircase to the front door. It swung open moments before she reached it, courtesy of Cesare, their efficient majordomo who ensured the Vitali household ran smoothly.

  “Welcome home, topolina,” he greeted her with a warm, affectionate smile.

  Since the affection was mutual, she returned the smile and stood on her toes to brush a kiss over his weathered cheek. “Is Uncle Gio home?”

  “In the library, waiting on you.”

  “Perfect. Goodnight, Cesare.”

  Still vibrating from the rush of adrenaline to her system, she took the stairs two at a time, another little habit that drove the men of the house crazy. She was careful never to push Uncle Gio to the point of anger, but she enjoyed her little bits of rebellion where she could find them.

  As Cesare had promised, she found him sitting in his favorite leather chair, holding a worn copy of I Promessi Sposi, with a cup of cappuccino sitting on the table beside him.

  “Uncle Gio, you should know that story by heart.” Stopping by his chair, she bent and brushed a kiss across his cheek.

  “I may know the destination, but I still enjoy the journey, topolina.”

  Rolling her eyes for form, she settled into the chair across from him. “I’m not a child, Uncle Gio. Your little mouse is all grown up,” she teased.

  “You will always be little to me.” Closing the book, he set it beside the cup of coffee at his elbow, giving her his full attention. “How was the event?”

  This time her eye roll was heartfelt. “Boring, as usual.”

  “And your date for the evening?”

  “Sleeping soundly.”

  “Good.” The corners of his lips tipped down, just slightly, and he tapped a finger on the arm of his chair.

  Something was bothering him. The tapping was his tell, something that might go unnoticed by someone who didn’t know him as well as she did. But pushing him to talk to her had the potential to backfire if he wasn’t ready, so she waited him out.

  “I have another job for you, topolina.”

  It was her turn to frown. “So soon?” And why does this one bother you so? She left the latter part unsaid, knowing her prying wouldn’t be welcome.

  “Unfortunately.”

  She waited for more, a name at least, but the silence stretched on. “Uncle Gio?”

  “Emilio Rinaldi.”

  If he’d said the pope, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “What? Has he betrayed us?”

  Gio’s handsome face twisted into a grimace. “No. It would be easier if he had. I owe someone a favor, and they’ve called in their marker.”

  “You can’t be serious. You would have me kill a man as a favor?”

  “I’m sorry, topolina. I would ask anyone else if I could. You are the only one I trust.”

  Her heart gave a quick, painful jerk in her chest. “There are others just as experienced as I.”

  “The others lack your finesse. I need this done as quickly and as quietly as possible. And I need to ensure it won’t be traced back to me.” Grief shone in his eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you, topolina.”

  Perhaps it was perverse of her to feel such a fierce sense of pride at his words, but it was there nonetheless. “When?”

  “Tomorrow night. It’s Rinaldi’s monthly dinner for the families. We’ve already RSVP’d, so it won’t draw any suspicion for you to be there. You’ll make apologies for me.” He paused, the weight of what he was asking filling the heavy silence between them. “You know how to take care of the rest.”

  “Yes.” Normally a job, especially one as fraught with danger as this one could potentially be, gave her a thrill. But she couldn’t find any excitement, only bitterness. “You’re sure this is the only way?”

  “I wish it weren’t. You of all people should know this isn’t something I ask lightly.”

  She did know. Ordering the death of another human being always weighed on him, even when it was a disgusting piece of human debris like Robert Grayson had been. Ordering the death of a respected rival, the head of another powerful family, however...

  “This must be some favor you owe.”

  “It is.”

  She waited, hoping for more of an explanation, but when it was obvious none was going to be offered, she pushed up out of her chair. “Goodnight, Uncle Gio.”

  “Goodnight, Amara.”

  With another kiss, this one distinctly colder than the last, she headed for her room. There, she picked up the picture of her parents she kept on her dresser, the last picture of them before their deaths nearly twenty years before.

  A drunk driver, a rainy night, and the two people she’d loved most in the world had been ripped from her lives. Which was where ‘Uncle’ Gio had come in. Technically, he was her father’s cousin. The pair had been inseparable as children, and that bond had followed them well into adulthood. When her father had taken the reins as head of the Vitali family, Giorgio had naturally stepped into the role as his right-hand man. She’d grown up calling him uncle, and when her parents had died, he’d adopted her without so much as a second thought.

  Not for the first time, she wished she could go back to that time in the picture. When she’d been young and innocent, without a care in the world. When the most pressing wardrobe decision had been which dress had the most sparkles, and not which dress provided the best range of motion in case her target put up a fight.

  But she couldn’t go back, and her heart was heavy with grief as she planned her strategy for her next job. Rinaldi wasn’t a friend in the most traditional sense, but there was a longstanding and mutual respect between the two families. At ten years his junior, she’d known Emilio Rinaldi her entire life. Much to her own chagrin, she’d been a little bit in love with him as far back as she could remember. The absolute epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, he’d starred in her childhood daydreams and her teenage fantasies.

  And he’d made it clear they would be no more than fantasies during her rather disastrous twenty-first birthday party, when she’d gotten completely sloshed and climbed into his lap in front of God and everyone.

  You’re making a fool of yourself, Amara. Go home and sober up.

  She’d barely spoken a word to him since then, but their world was small, so she hadn’t been able to completely avoid him. Five years ago, his father had handed over the reins and retired to Italy with Emilio’s mother. From what she’d heard and seen herself, Emilio was just as strict as his father had been, but just as fair, as well. His people not only respected him, they genuinely cared for him.

  And that, at the core, was why this hit didn’t sit well with her. It was easy to take a man out when there was a good reason, even if that reason was mostly business. But this? Taking the life of a good man simply because some nameless, faceless person wanted it done? It was... revolting.

  She set the picture back down and headed for the en-suite bathroom, where she ran the water in the tub as hot as she could stand it. With water runnin
g, she dumped a few capfuls of her favorite lavender-scented bubble bath under the tap. Nobody who knew her would believe the Vitali family’s ice princess enjoyed her baths with actual bubbles instead of the bath salts most of her peers seemed to enjoy. But the bubbles were a small joy, the one piece of her childhood she still allowed herself to indulge in, and that bit of joy helped to remind her she was human.

  After stripping off the stiff uniform, she stepped into the tub and sank into the water with a blissful sigh. The heat helped leach the stress from her muscles. Normally, she could let her mind go blank, or at least wander while she soaked. But tonight, no matter how hard she tried, her mind only focused on one thing.

  Killing Emilio Rinaldi.

  Chapter Two

  As always, Benny had done a magnificent job preparing the house for guests. Every surface gleamed, and even the light fixtures lacked so much as a speck of dust. Trays of hors d’oeuvres traveled among the guests, carried by the silent, efficient catering staff.

  Across the crowded room, Amara Vitali held court. It was the only term he could think of for the way their associates gathered around her, clinging to her every word. Not that he could blame them. She’d grown from a gangly, slightly awkward child into a gorgeous, polished woman with legs a mile long. A few years back, she’d cut her dark hair to a sharp, angled wedge that drew attention to her high cheekbones and her ice blue eyes. The look suited her, though he missed the softness she’d had about her when she was younger. She’d lost a little bit of that softness when her parents had died, but it had been completely stripped from her shortly before she’d come of age. Something, or someone, had turned the sweet, happy child into the ice princess before him.

  “Ah, Emilio. I was hoping I’d have a chance to speak with you tonight.”

  Biting back a sigh at the sound of the sniveling, weasel-y voice, Emilio turned and offered Carlos a polite smile. “Carlos. No business tonight, remember?”

  It was the one rule he enforced without fail at these events. It was rare for members of the families to come together without an agenda, and like his father before him, Emilio felt it was important for all of them to connect just as people on a regular basis. And so, for one night a month, there was no talk of business and all rivalries were set aside.