Obsessed with His Bride: A Possessive Mafia Romance

  Obsessed with His Bride

  BB Hamel

  Copyright © 2020 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Coverluv Book Designs

  Contents

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  1. Dante

  2. Aida

  3. Dante

  4. Aida

  5. Dante

  6. Aida

  7. Dante

  8. Aida

  9. Dante

  10. Aida

  11. Dante

  12. Aida

  13. Dante

  14. Aida

  15. Dante

  16. Aida

  17. Dante

  18. Aida

  19. Dante

  20. Aida

  21. Dante

  22. Aida

  23. Dante

  24. Dante

  25. Aida

  26. Dante

  27. Aida

  28. Dante

  29. Aida

  30. Dante

  31. Aida

  32. Aida

  Also by BB Hamel

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  1

  Dante

  The asphalt was slick with rain as I stepped out of my black SUV and into the pitch dark night. I shut the door, making the sound echo off the old brick building’s walls, bouncing around the block and out of sight. The only other sounds were the patter of rain in puddles and the soft idling of the SUV’s engine. I knew Steven was watching carefully, a loaded Glock in his lap, as I stepped into the SUV’s headlights and let them silhouette me from behind.

  My eyes moved over to the abandoned school, my gaze passing over the boarded-up windows. It’d been closed for a few years now, and the city always said they were going to knock it down, but so far, they hadn’t followed through. Not that I minded much, the parking lot was big and far enough away from any high-traffic spots to act as a good meeting place. The parking lines were beginning to fade, and the lawn around the school was beginning to get overgrown. I’d have some guys come out and cut it later in the week, but for now, it looked like a jungle about to sprout and take over South Philadelphia.

  I watched as another car came down the block, heading toward the school. It was a red thing, beat up with nearly black tinted windows, rust around the bottom, and duct tape holding on the front and back bumpers. One of the headlights was out, but the thing still managed to drive despite the fact that it seemed as though it was about to fall apart at any moment.

  The car pulled into the parking lot, swung around, and stopped about twenty feet away from me. I crossed my arms, my pulse beating slow. I let the rain tap against my black jacket, not caring much if I get wet. I had on jeans, black boots, a gray button-down shirt, and a nylon jacket over it all. My dark hair was pushed back, almost haphazard and lazy. I took pride in my appearance, only insofar as it intimidated my enemies.

  On a normal day, I wore a suit. Form-fitted, expensive. But I didn’t want to be visible that night, so I wore something different.

  The car’s engine stopped and its only headlight winked out. A figure got out of the driver’s side and lingered a moment, the door still open.

  “Dante?” he called out.

  “Roger,” I said. “Get your ass out here. I’m getting rained on.”

  The door slammed shut and Roger came walking toward me. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, but skinny and pale. His shirt hung off his bones, his khaki pants were too baggy, and there was a hole in his tennis shoes. His hair was gray, though covered with a ragged Phillies baseball cap, and he had bags under his eyes. He gave me his crooked grin and hesitated a few feet away.

  “Hey, boss,” he said. “Hey, thanks, uh, thanks for, uh, seeing me.” He touched his hand to the base of his neck and shifted from foot to foot.

  I stepped out of the beams of the headlights and moved to my right, closer to the brick-fronted school with its high arched doorway up a long flight of concrete steps. For a second, I could almost picture the kids that used to walk up those steps every day, probably since I used to be one of them.

  Back when I was just a little shit, before I owned these streets.

  “I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” I said, watching Roger closely. “You’ve been a little hard to get a hold of these past few days.”

  “Right, right, sorry about that, boss.” He smiled at me and wrung his hands in front of him. “I’ve been, you know, laying low.”

  “Laying low?” I asked in mock surprise. “Why would you need to lay low, Roger?”

  “Uh,” he said and clenched his jaw. “You know, boss, I should just come clean, right?”

  I took a step closer to him and he flinched back almost by reflex. I smiled at him, tilted my head. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

  “You know I hit a strip club, right? I thought it was… I thought it was owned by this fucking guy, Mack the Nose. You know Mack? Black guy, really tall, all ripped and shit?”

  “I know Mack,” I said. “He’s Haitian. Nice guy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, right, real nice guy, but I was trying to rob him, you know?”

  I nodded and stretched my arms, never taking my eyes off Roger. “But it wasn’t Mack’s place, was it?”

  “I thought it was,” he protested. “I really did. I didn’t mean…” He trailed off.

  “Who owns that strip club, Roger?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know,” he said and took a step backwards. “I really didn’t. I don’t… you’re not mad, are you, boss? You know I’d never, never fuck with the Volkov without talking to you first. You know that, right?” He squirmed from side to side again and I glared at him before shaking my head.

  “Here’s the problem,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. “You did fuck with them. That strip club is owned by motherfucking Vlas himself, and you ripped him off. Do you have any clue how much shit you’ve stirred up?”

  “I know,” Roger groaned. “I know, boss. That’s why I’ve been laying low. But look, I’m here now. I want to make it right. I came with a gift, yeah? I brought you something.”

  “There better be thirty thousand dollars cash in that car,” I growled at him. “Do you hear me, Roger?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Fuck, yes, every single dollar is there and accounted for. We’ll return the money and make right with Vlas, right? Absolutely, boss, we’ll do it. That’s why I came here. I want to make right.”

  “Good.” I turned to the car and gestured. The passenger side back door opened and Gino stepped out. He was short guy, muscular, always wore tight button-downs tucked into expensive jeans. He wore a raincoat tonight, and walked over with a little swagger, his dark eyes flashing between me and Roger.

  “Where’s the money?” I asked Roger.

  “Trunk of my car,” he said. “It’s open.”

  I snapped at Gino, who nodded. I stared at Roger the whole time, never taking my eyes off the thief.

  He was about as low level as they got. I always felt bad for the guy. He was in his fifties, never a made man, never even close to making soldier in any of the crews in the city. He’d been running small-time drugs, ripping off businesses, stealing from old ladies, that sort of shit for years and years. M
ost of that cash, he shot it right into his arm, and when he wasn’t on dope, he was drinking. The guy was a loser, the worst of the worst, but I kept him around because I felt sorry for him, and sometimes he came through with a decent score.

  This would’ve been one of those decent scores. Ripping off a strip club for thirty grand was a decent run by anyone’s measure. But that dumb fucking bastard ripped off the wrong goddamned strip club, and now I had hell to pay.

  Gino walked to the car and opened the trunk. I couldn’t see him in my peripheral vision for a moment, blocked by the open trunk, but then the sound of it slamming shut echoed. Roger shifted again, foot to foot, looking around like he was about to be ambushed.

  “You got somewhere to be?” I asked him.

  He blinked at me. “Shit, no, not at all. Sorry, boss. Just, just nervous is all. I got a good present for you though, you’re gonna love it, you’re gonna—”

  “Boss,” Gino called out.

  I held up a hand to Roger, silencing him, as my head turned to Gino. “Bring it over,” I said.

  Gino hesitated next to the car, squinting in at something, then shook his head and carried over a black duffel bag. I could tell it was heavy as Gino slung it over his shoulder and opened it up right next to me.

  It was full of cash. I reached in and picked up one of the stacks, flipped my finger through it, and dropped it back in. “If there’s anything missing, tell me now,” I grunted. “Don’t make me find out the hard way. I’m going to count it and I know how much is supposed to be there.”

  “It’s all there,” Roger said.

  “Good.” I nodded at Gino, but he didn’t move. “What’s up?”

  “Boss, there’s, uh…” He trailed off, frowning. “There’s a fucking girl in the car, I think. In the back seat.”

  My eyes turned to Roger and he was beaming at me. “What’s this?” I asked him.

  “I told you, boss. I brought a gift.”

  “I don’t need some junky whore,” I said, and nodded at Gino who walked back to the car. He tossed the duffel bag inside, but he didn’t follow it. Instead, he began to walk back out toward Roger.

  The driver’s side door of the SUV opened, and Steven got out. He held his gun in both hands, his eyes narrowed. He was a good-looking guy and pulled down plenty of girls over the years. He was my height, with muscular arms and short hair. He was smart, and we’ve known each other since we were little kids. He wore a navy-blue sweatshirt and jeans, although he normally dressed in a dress shirt and tailored pants, similar to my own uniform. Steven was my top lieutenant and a killer through and through, one of the most dependable and vicious men I knew.

  “Wait,” Roger said, taking a step back at the sight of my second-in-command. His eyes went wide and I could see the old junky thief starting to really lose it. “Hold on. My present. I swear, boss, it’ll change your mind, I swear to God.”

  “Fuck, Roger,” I said. “You know how badly you messed up, right? You understand what you did?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  I cut him off. “You didn’t mean to,” I mocked. “But you fucking did. You know how tense things have been with the Russians these last couple of years, and then you have to go and hit one of their top Capo’s strip joint. Do you have any clue how much shit I’m getting for that?”

  “I didn’t… oh, fuck. But wait. Just take my gift, okay?” His eyes were pleading now, and I could tell he was on the verge of wetting himself.

  I sighed, and shook my head. “I’m not interested.”

  He turned, ignoring me. “Aida!” he shouted. “Aida, come out!”

  I was about to tell him to shut the fuck up when the back door of his car opened and a girl stepped out.

  She was hard to see at first. She wasn’t quite in the light yet, but I caught a glimpse of thick, dark hair, milky skin, a curvy body. I hesitated, a little surprised, as she walked toward the group and came into the light.

  Aida was beautiful. She had thick, pink lips, and wide green eyes. Her eyebrows were heavy and dark but well-manicured, and her thick dark hair fell down around her shoulders. She wore a low-cut black tank top and tight jeans, and although she had an angry scowl on her face, she was unmistakably gorgeous. I looked from Roger to the girl and back again, trying to understand what the fuck was happening.

  “This is Aida,” Roger said, turning back to me. “This is my daughter.”

  I stared for a long moment. Then a laugh broke from my lips.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  Roger the junky thief, the loser, the pathetic asshole, had a daughter. And not just any daughter, but a beautiful one at that. She glared even harder and crossed her arms under her full breasts, and I couldn’t help but stare at them. She looked away from me, anger flashing in her eyes, as Roger walked over to her.

  “This is my daughter,” he said again. “She’s a pretty girl, right? Listen, Dante. I know how bad I fucked up. So I want you to have her. I want her to marry you, I mean, you can marry her if you want to. I just mean, I want you to have her, is all.”

  I stood there, absolutely fucking shocked. I looked at Steven, who seemed utterly appalled. His face was screwed up into a frown and his head was cocked to the side. Gino was trying not to laugh though, and he had to look away.

  “This is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, shaking my head in utter surprise. “I’ve been offered some shit in the past, Roger. But never someone’s own daughter.”

  “I told you this was stupid,” the girl hissed. “I don’t even want to be here.”

  “Shut up,” Roger snapped at her then looked at me. “I know you guys are involved in girls. Maybe you can… you can use her there.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You want me to make your own daughter a hooker?” I looked at her, top to bottom, and shrugged. “She’s definitely beautiful enough. What do you think, Aida? You want to work for me, pay off your father’s debt?”

  “I’d rather you put a bullet in both our heads,” she said, meeting my gaze.

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Damn,” Gino said, grinning. “That’s some cold shit right there. That girl has stones.”

  “Ignore her,” Roger said. “Shut up, Aida. Shut the hell up.” He was sweating, visible even in the rain. “She’ll work for you, she’ll be your wife, shit, she’ll clean your house. Whatever you need, Dante, you can have. Please, she’s the only good thing in my life, and I’m giving her to you as penance.”

  I nodded my head slowly and looked back at the girl. She glared right back, not looking away, and I found it oddly exciting. Most women knew me, and most of them either tried to fuck their way into my wallet, or ran in the opposite direction. The smart ones ran, the stupid ones fucked me, and the rest were too afraid to make a move either way.

  This girl though, she was interesting. Beautiful and the daughter of a notorious scumbag. I don’t know how I didn’t know about her, considering I knew everyone in the city. I stepped toward her and she didn’t move away, although her father took a big step back, leaving her there alone in the light of my SUV. She stared at me, a mix of defiance and anger in her expression. I stopped a foot away from her and looked down at her body as she glared back up at me.

  “What do you think?” I asked her softly. “You want to come back with me? Be my wife?”

  Her eyes went wide. She didn’t speak for a moment, but her hands dropped down. She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. “You want to… marry me.”

  I smirked. “Maybe. Not yet though. I want to ask you something first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think I should spare your father?”

  She hesitated and looked back at him. Roger’s eyes went wide. “Aida,” he hissed.

  “Yes,” she said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

  “And if I do, you’ll come with me? Live with me? Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he should be able to do.”

  “He’s a
piece of shit,” she said. “But he’s still my father. I’ll do what I have to do to save his life.”

  “Even if I make you work for me?”

  She flinched. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Honest. I like that. But don’t worry, you’re not a working girl. I can see that in your eyes already.”

  “So what do you want to do with me then?”

  I smiled and let my eyes wander her body. I could think of a few things I wanted to do with her. I moved closer, leaned toward her, and she didn’t pull away. I let my lips brush against her cheek as I moved them close to her ear. “I’ll keep you safe,” I said.

  “Boss,” Steven said before I could elaborate. I stepped back and she stared at me with surprise. “We should get moving. Wrap this up.”

  I nodded once and tilted my head. “Well, Aida?”

  “Are you going to spare him?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged.

  She clenched her jaw again and glared back at her father. “You’re a piece of shit,” she said. “And you don’t deserve me.” But she turned back to me and took a step forward. “I’ll come.”

  “Gino,” I said. “Take our new guest and get her in the car.”

  “Yes, boss,” Gino said with a barely concealed smile. He walked over and gently took Aida by the arm, leading her away.

  I caught Steven’s gaze and he rolled his eyes. “You finished?” he said.

  “I’m finished.”

  “Good.” He glanced back as Gino put Aida into the car and shut the door.