Say Daddy A Mafia Billionaire Romance - Shanna Handel Page 0,19
away, that tight dress hugging her curves as she moves, my cock hardens in my trousers. I let out a low whistle, mopping the bar top. “That girl’s going to be the death of me.”
The rest of the night, I do my best to get her attention. When she walks by me, I snap a towel across her ass. Slide my hand around her waist to move her from the front of the fridge she’s always blocking.
Whisper dirty things in her ear every time I get the chance.
When are you going to come over and let Daddy take care of you, little girl?
My attentions make her blush. Have her throwing sassy remarks at me.
But they don’t make her say yes to me.
If anything, I’m driving her away with my teasing. I try a new approach; I do my job and let her do hers.
When the night ends and I go to lock up, she’s already gone. A note’s been left on the bar for me.
There’s a little doodle of a cat at the top that makes me smile.
Luke,
I hope you don’t mind locking up by yourself. I went home to change.
I have a date tonight.
V
Reading the note, my smile evaporates. My stomach dropping into my steel-toed boots. “No way. Who dared to defy me?” I think over my very clear instructions to the Brotherhood to steer clear of her.
It must be someone else. A civilian. A non-Bachman.
Disappointment creeps into my chest.
I long to tell her the truth. That I am not only the daddy she needs, but the man who can fulfill her dreams of being a Beauty.
But I wouldn’t want her to choose me because of what I can give her. I want her to want me.
I lock the door and head home.
Alone.
* * *
Victoria
My heart is pounding in my throat as I knock twice on the door.
The door opens and the sight of him in the frame makes my knees weak. Briefly, I allow my gaze to dance over his high cheekbones, his steel-cut jaw, his bare, muscled chest. The low-slung waist of his ripped jeans.
Surprise fills his gaze, then a slow smile of delight stretches across his face.
I smile back, suddenly shy. “Hi, Luke.”
“Damn.” He eyes me, his gaze dipping between my breasts that I’ve put on display, just for him. He asks, “I’m your date?”
Faking a confidence I do not feel, I quip back, “You bet your ass, you lucky son of a bitch.” Shoving past him, I enter the apartment as if it were my own. Turning on my heel, I face him. “Shut the door.”
“You’re pretty bossy for such a tiny little thing,” he muses. But he obliges, closing the door. Locking the deadbolt.
To keep others out, or to keep me in?
Resting his back against the door, he crosses his arms over his chest, forcing those gorgeous biceps upward, drawing attention to them. His hair hangs just a touch over his eye as he cocks his jaw toward me. “I’m listening.”
The magnetic pull I feel toward him is almost my undoing. Part of me wants to throw myself into his arms, tell him to take me—in any way, anytime he wants.
Tell him I’m his to command and to dominate.
The other part of me knows this relationship will lead nowhere. That—while he is the most amazing lover I’ve had, in tune to my body and my desires like no man who has come before him—he is not my forever.
Thus, this cannot continue. And I must make that clear. Then enjoy my final night of mind-blowing sex. And be on my way.
Clearing my throat, I churn up my best ‘couldn’t care less’ voice and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Two things.”
A cocky smirk stretches over his face. Raising one dark brow, he says, “Yes?”
I put my hands on my hips and steel my gaze. “Number one. Let me make this very, very clear. This is a one-night thing. After tonight, we go back to being friends and co-workers, like this never ever happened. No more flirting with me at work. No more inviting me back to your apartment. I will not come back here after tonight.”
He gives me a look of disdain. “How fun. What a way to set the mood. And number two?”
The second point I have to make is the harder one to say. Swallowing hard, I press forward with my speech. “I am here because I want your body. Not because I want to call you Daddy. If I have to play