Daddy's Captive: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 4

  When she was dressed, Emilio tilted his head to the side, studying her. “You look adorable,” he said, and she almost believed he meant it as a compliment. “I have several calls to make this morning, so you’ll be joining me in my office until lunch. After lunch you’ll need to stay in your room, as I have a few meetings to attend in person.” A rather satisfied grin split his face. “Unless you don’t mind our mutual acquaintances seeing you in your current state.”

  “I’d rather you just put me out of my misery,” she mumbled, tugging at the frilly skirt. “Can’t I just stay up here all day?”

  “No. Naughty little girls need to be watched carefully and I can’t spare Benny all day to keep an eye on you.”

  “But your staff will see me!”

  “My staff is well aware of my... proclivities. And they’ve all been carefully vetted.” His expression softened, just a fraction. “You are safe here, Amara. Nobody outside these walls will ever know what happens here.”

  It was the height of stupidity to trust a man who’d kidnapped her, beaten her, and dressed her like a child. But despite all that, he was still the same man she’d known her entire life. So trust him, she did. “All right.”

  “I have some coloring books and other toys in the office to keep you occupied. Come.”

  Face burning with shame, she slipped her hand into his outstretched one and allowed him to lead her down the stairs. His office reminded her of him—elegant and imposing, but with a warmth often lacking in men of his profession.

  All traits that had attracted her to him in the first place. Under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed a bit of kinky play with him and they could have each gone their separate ways afterwards, remaining friends. But now, she was stuck here, at his mercy. And the punishments he had planned for her were nothing compared to what he would do if he discovered the truth about why she’d been in his room last night.

  What a fucking mess she’d landed herself in, all because Uncle Gio owed someone a favor. If she made it out of this alive, she was never doing another job again. It certainly wasn’t like she needed the money.

  “Are you all right, piccolina?”

  God, she wished he’d stop calling her that. It was equal parts sweet and humiliating, and just altogether confusing. “I’m fine.”

  Slim, elegant fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I am willing to overlook that lie, as you are entitled to feel a little off kilter at the moment. But I would advise you to not lie to me when I ask my next question. Is there something about last night you haven’t told me?”

  To her surprise, she wanted to tell him. The truth burned on her tongue, but she couldn’t make herself form the words. “No.”

  Eyes so dark brown they were nearly black searched hers. “You’re keeping something from me, Amara,” he murmured, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I will discover the truth. The sooner you tell me, the easier this will be for you.”

  “I already told you, Emilio. I was just trying to have some fun.”

  Almost instantly, she found herself bent over the desk, with his heavy hand slamming into her backside. Each swat caused her bottom to clench, reminding her of the presence of the plug with a sharp stab of pain. “What do you call me, Amara?”

  “Daddy—I meant Daddy!”

  “Good girl.” And just as quickly, her punishment ended and he helped her straighten. When his arms came around her, she stiffened, unsure of what might come next.

  “Relax, piccolina.” He was clearly amused by her reaction. “I’m trying to comfort you.”

  “Oh. Um, okay.” Closing her eyes, she leaned into him. Bit by bit, she relaxed in his embrace. It was odd, accepting comfort from the man who’d humiliated and punished her, but a part of her craved his touch. Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

  “Much better,” he said, patting her tulle-covered bottom affectionately. “Have a seat on the floor over there while Daddy makes his calls.”

  A stack of coloring books and boxes of assorted crayons, colored pencils, and markers had been laid out beside the desk. It was silly and ridiculous, but what else was she going to do? She couldn’t very well make a break for it, not with him sitting right there and a bevy of guards most likely wandering the halls. Resigned to her fate, at least for the time being, she stretched out on the floor beside the desk and flipped through the coloring books.

  She was amused to find several more ‘adult’ coloring books mixed in with the more traditional material, and she ended up selecting one with dozens of decorative cocks. The entire process was far more relaxing than she’d anticipated. By the time Emilio called her name, she’d colored three full pages and had started on a fourth.

  “Can Daddy see your pictures, piccolina?” he asked, amusement shining in his eyes.

  Inwardly giggling over the idea of handing him a stack of colorful cocks, she happily handed the book over to him. When he saw what she’d chosen, he let out a loud whoop of laughter.

  “These are perfect, Amara. I’ll have to find somewhere to hang them in your—upstairs,” he said, smoothly correcting himself.

  Had he been about to call the frilly pink room upstairs her room? Despite her absolute hatred of everything pink, the idea didn’t bother her as much as it should have. Jesus, one night with the man, and she was already developing a severe case of Stockholm syndrome.

  Deciding that was a problem for future Amara, she pushed up onto her knees. “Is it lunchtime? I’m starving.”

  “Just about. Anita will be bringing our meal in shortly. We should go wash our hands, first.”

  The reminder that his staff could and would see her dressed as she was, playing at being a little girl, quickly sobered her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her playful ‘Daddy’ disappeared in a finger snap. In his place sat the man from the night before and that morning, the one who was prepared to punish even the slightest defiance. “What did I tell you last night, Amara? About the choices little girls have in this house?”

  The only choice little girls have in this house is to do as they are told before or after their naughty bottoms get turned nice and red. His warning was imprinted in her mind, but she stood her ground. “I don’t want people to see me. It’s embarrassing.”

  “It will be even more embarrassing for them to hear you screaming and crying while I paddle your bottom before you march those rosy red cheeks down the hall for everyone to see, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Again, not much in the way of options. But if she had to choose between two evils, there was a clear winner. “Fine.”

  “Try that again, young lady.”

  The fury she’d managed to bank the night before roared back to life, but she ruthlessly squashed it. As much as she wanted to let it loose, to scorch him with it, the only thing getting scorched would be her own ass if she did. “I’ll go wash my hands, Daddy.”

  “There’s my good girl.” Rising to his feet, he held out a hand to help her up.

  When he guided her to a door off to the side of his office and swung it open, revealing a small bathroom, she wasn’t nearly as successful in fighting back the flash of anger. “You couldn’t have just told me you had a fucking bathroom right here?”

  “If you had asked where the washroom was, instead of assuming, I would have happily told you. And consider this your one and only warning about swearing at me, Amara. I handle disrespectful little girls the same way I handle liars. Understood?”

  Unwilling to experience ‘eating a bar of soap’ as he’d so eloquently put it, she swallowed her blistering retort and opted for a meek nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” He frowned when a musical, tinkling sound reached them. “That’s the doorbell. Stay here while I see who it is.” His eyes were serious when they met hers. “Benny will be right outside the door. If he tells you to run, or to hide, you listen. No questions, no arguments.”

  With those strict orders ringing in her ears, she watched him stride from the room and out the main door of the office.

  What the hell was going on?

  * * *

  Retrieving his favored Walther pistol from the holster beneath his perfectly cut suit jacket, Emilio pulled the slide back to load the chamber. Gun in hand, he moved into the shadows just off the entryway while one of his men opened the door.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Vitali.”

  Shit. Giorgio obviously hadn’t been satisfied with the quick text he’d shot off the night before about Amara sleeping off a few too many drinks.

  “Where is Rinaldi? I need to speak with him immediately.”

  Re-holstering his gun, Emilio stepped out of the shadows. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Giorgio?”

  Joey, the guard at the door, stepped aside, allowing Giorgio to storm inside. “Amara. Where is she?”

  Emilio studied the man in front of him, debating on the best course of action. His behavior could be attributed to the nerves of an overprotective father figure, but something felt... off. Instead of worried, or even anxious, he seemed excited. But excited in a way he was trying to hide.

  Something was definitely wrong here. It took only a few seconds for him to decide on his next move. “I’m afraid you just missed her. She left a few minutes before you arrived.”

  “Really?” Snarling, Giorgio prowled the entryway. “Why isn’t she answering her phone?”

  “She mentioned before she left that her battery had died. I apologize, I should have sent you a message letting you know she was on her way home.”

  Giorgio stopped his prowling and stepped closer, nearly nose to nose with Emilio. At this distance, there was no mistaking the too-wide pupils and the erratic breathing of a man obviously riding high on his own product. Off to the side, one of his men silently removed his gun from the holster, but Emilio waved him off.

  “If anything has happened to my Amara, I’ll have your head on a pike.”

  “I assure you, Amara is perfectly healthy and unharmed.” That, at least, was the truth.

  “She had better be.” With a final curt nod, Giorgio spun on his heel and marched back out the front door.

  “Joey.” Emilio waited for his man to close the door and turn back to him. “Mr. Vitali is not to be allowed back into the house without my express permission. In fact, consider us on a soft lockdown until further notice.”

  If his man considered the request to be an odd one, his face and voice didn’t show it. “Sure thing, boss.”

  Satisfied his house was being well looked after, Emilio turned and headed back to his office. He still didn’t have the first clue what his sneaky little guest had really been up to, but he was almost certain Gio was part of it.

  Whatever it was, he was going to get some answers one way or another. Once he was certain he had his temper under control, he returned to his office where Amara appeared to be pacing nervously.

  “Who was it?” she asked the second the door swung open.

  “Gio.”

  Her face paled and she stopped pacing. “Uncle Gio? Was he looking for me?”

  “Yes.” Keeping his own expression carefully neutral, he moved in and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Amara. Are you afraid of him?”

  The shock on her face, followed by the surprised burst of laughter gave him his answer. “Afraid of Uncle Gio? Never. The man would cut off his own hand before he so much as laid a finger on me.”

  “All right. I have business, so Benny will have to take you upstairs. I’ll have lunch sent up.”

  “But I thought we were having lunch together.” Her pout was instinctive, not practiced like some of the women he’d played with, making her all the more alluring. It was all he could do to not kiss her senseless then and there.

  He settled for brushing the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Gio’s visit has unfortunately messed with our plans a bit. Go upstairs with Benny, and I’ll be up later this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she replied with a heavy sigh. In another lifetime, he might have believed she was going to miss him.

  When they were gone, he pulled his cell from his pocket and hit one of the few numbers he kept on speed dial.

  “The fuck do you want, Rinaldi,” a gruff voice answered.

  “Good afternoon to you, too, Detective Franks.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You only call when you need a favor, so what do ya want?”

  “I need you to do some digging for me. But it’s very sensitive, so I need you to make sure you don’t send up any flags.”

  “Who do you need dirt on?”

  “Giorgio Vitali. I just want to know if there have been any, let’s say rumblings, in his organization.”

  His request was met with a long, heavy silence before Franks responded. “All right. It’s gonna cost ya.”

  “Name your price.”

  Chapter Six

  Minutes dragged into hours as she waited for Emilio to come upstairs. The room he’d put her in was larger than her bedroom at home, but it felt like the walls were closing in on her with every tick of the clock. And the worst part was Benny had stayed planted in her room for every second of her incarceration, so she couldn’t even search for an escape. Not that she would have found one anyway, but it would have been nice to at least be able to try. To feel like she was doing something other than waiting for her execution.

  After what seemed like eternity, she heard the telltale sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors outside her bedroom, moments before the door swung open, revealing the man himself standing in the doorway.

  Fuck her, did he have to be so damn handsome? Maybe she wouldn’t have all these conflicting feelings if he could just tone down the sex appeal a smidge. As it was, the mere sight of him gave her pussy its own heartbeat.

  Eyes locked on hers, he started across the room. “Benny, you’re dismissed. I’ll ring when we’re ready for dinner.”

  With a silent nod, Benny slipped out of the bedroom door, leaving her alone with her captor. There was something different about him. She could sense the power he was keeping so carefully in check, the beast he normally kept locked away prowling just beneath the surface. Was he going to unleash that monster on her?

  The idea was far more alluring than it should have been.

  “I have some questions for you, piccolina.” Shrugging out of his immaculately cut suit jacket, he took a step forward. She answered with a step backward. “Your answers will determine how we proceed tonight.”

  Another step forward for him, another backward for her. “How we proceed?” Confused, she frowned up at him. “You’re not going to punish me?”

  “I have every intention of punishing you, but not before I have the full story of why you were really in my room last night. Let’s start with this: How long has Gio been sampling his inventory?”

  Shocked by the implication, she simply stood and stared at him as he unbuttoned the sleeve of his dress shirt and rolled the fabric up over his elbow. “He hasn’t. He would never.” It was Uncle Gio’s cardinal rule that no members of his household were allowed to consume the drugs he smuggled across the border. Hell, he’d grounded her for a month the first time he’d caught her sneaking a bottle of champagne from his wine cellar.

  Now standing directly in front of her, Emilio gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, searching her face with those cold, dark eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find. His expression warmed the tiniest fraction and his grip on her face eased. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  “Know what, Emilio?” She tried to jerk her head away, but his hold on her didn’t budge.

  Fire flashed in his eyes, but not fury. More like excitement, anticipation. The thrill of a predator finally within striking distance of its prey.

  “Enjoy your defiance while you can, piccolina. Second question. Why were you here last night? And do not lie to me again,” he warned when she opened her mouth to do exactly that.

  She didn’t want to lie. But it wasn’t just her life on the line if he discovered the truth.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, after a long, tense silence. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “The truth at last,” he murmured, releasing her chin to cup her cheek with his hand. “But luckily for me, I have ways of loosening your tongue.”

  Fear, cold and slick, slithered up her spine. “Please, Emil—Daddy,” she corrected herself quickly when his eyes hardened. “Let me go and I’ll disappear and we can both pretend this never happened. Please.”

  “I think you know I can’t do that, Amara. But I believe you’ve misinterpreted my meaning. I’m not going to hurt you, piccolina.”

  Relief flooded her. “You’re not?”

  “Well, not in the way you’re expecting. Some of what I have planned for you tonight will hurt, but I believe you’ll enjoy the process.” His slow smile was filled with wicked intent. “Eventually.”

  Again with the thumping between her thighs. She had no doubt he could make her enjoy whatever it was he was planning to inflict on her. And somehow those cold licks of fear only served to make her more aware of the need pulsing through her.

  “Arms up, piccolina. Daddy is going to undress you.”

  Too afraid for outright defiance, she slowly raised her arms so he could tug the offensive pile of pink fluff up over her head, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. She couldn’t help but snarl a little in disgust when he tossed the offensive garment over the back of a chair.

  “Question number three.” His eyes danced with obvious amusement. “What do you have against pink?”

  “It’s just so... girly.”

  “What color do you prefer?”

  “Red.”

  “It suits you. I’m sure I can accommodate your preferences moving forward.”

  Her heart tripped in her chest. “You speak as though you mean for me to stay.”

  “I’ve considered it.” Lifting a hand to her breast, he rolled her nipple between his fingers, drawing a whimper from her lips. “Would it really be so bad, Amara?”

  “I can’t live like this. It’s... this isn’t who I am.”