BOW DOWN: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family)

C
opyright
© 2016 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.

M
y life was
death and bullets and blood and smoke.

I lived for my mafia. I was born to a man that controlled the greatest crime family in the whole world, and I was born for greatness.

But he took that away from me. Arturo Barone was a backwards old man, and he refused to let me take my rightful place in his organization.

Maybe I was young and stupid. But as soon as I realized that my father would never change his mind, I began to form my own gang. It started online as a group of hackers that I met in the deep web, but soon it became much more than that.

I wanted to be respected. I wanted to earn my place in the world at any cost, and I was willing to go up against my own father to achieve that.

My father and his men, they were rotten. They were buying women from Eastern Europe and shipping them back to the states. They were getting these girls hooked on drugs and using them as sex slaves.

It was disgusting. When I found out about that, I turned all of my energy into attacking the Barone Crime Family and destroying them. I wanted to liberate these girls from their bondage. I wanted to save their lives.

I never thought about men. Or at least when I did, I thought about how I could use them or destroy them. I never once imagined that I’d meet a man that was my equal, because I had no equals in the city.

My group, my Spiders, we were destroying the mafia one whorehouse at a time. With each new group of girls liberated, my mafia grew larger and stronger.

We were growing so big that I realized I needed to do something soon, or else we’d get noticed by the authorities. I needed to take drastic steps.

That was how I met him.

Tall, broad, and handsome, he wasn’t at all what I expected. He was powerful, the state’s attorney general. He had control over who got prosecuted and didn’t. In short, in Illinois, he was the law. If I wanted to rule Chicago, I needed him.

Wyatt Carter. I never expected him. He leaned up against me and whispered in my ear.

“Does power make you wet?”

That bastard. He couldn’t talk to me that way.

I never let a man say things like that to me. Any other man and I’d have him killed. But Wyatt smiled at me, that gorgeous, cocky smirk, and he looked as though he had the right to say anything he wanted.

Power didn’t make me wet, but Wyatt Carter did.

Soft lips, strong hands, square jaw. He took me by the hips and pressed me against the wall. His powerful body crushed mine, and as much as I couldn’t stand being dominated, Wyatt Carter could take me.

I needed him for more than just his body, but he was so damn controlling. I couldn’t submit to a man and never would.

But maybe Wyatt was going to be the one to finally break me.

A
nother damn fundraiser
. It felt like I went to a new one every weekend. The causes all blurred in my mind: breast cancer, stomach cancer, all types of cancer, ALS, concussions in sports, shit like that. I wrote my check and I smiled, but I knew that these fundraisers weren’t really about raising money for worthy causes.

They were networking opportunities for the filthy fucking rich and the powerful.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have belonged in a room like this. I grew up in a working class family. My father was a plumber and my mother was a secretary, and they didn’t give me anything in this world.

I earned everything I had. I worked my ass off to get a scholarship to Harvard, which led me to Harvard law, which led me through the courts.

People called it a “meteoric” rise, but to me it was jus inevitable. I could play the political game like anyone else, and I could dominate in the courtroom if needed. I had nearly a flawless record under my belt, including some serious, high-profile cases.

Which was how I became the youngest state attorney general ever at only thirty-three.

I wasn’t born rich. I wasn’t born an aristocrat like so many of the people milling about the expensive ballroom. I fought for every dollar and destroyed anyone that got in my path. That was how I made it to the top of my profession, and I wasn’t stopping there.

Chicago fundraisers were always the best. In Illinois, Chicago was the place to be. It was the biggest city in the Midwest, and every wealthy person for thousands of miles came to Chicago during the fundraiser season. It was essential to their business, and to mine.

I stood up near the bar, sipping a whisky as I surveyed the room. Everyone was wearing black tie attire; the women were in gowns and jewels, and the men all tried to look dapper in their tuxedos, but they mostly just looked like overgrown children in their daddy’s outfits. They had no sense of style or showmanship, which were things I had to learn to be successful in the courtroom.

Being a lawyer isn’t just about making solid legal arguments. It’s more about how you hold yourself and how you can convince an audience of skeptics. I found that appearance worked just as well as logic when it came to a jury.

So I worked with appearances. I knew how to manipulate my appearance to suit any crowd, from working class bartenders on up to the richest of the rich.

I didn’t particularly like the people I was trying to charm, but that didn’t matter. The only thing I cared about was accumulating more power.

Power was everything. Power meant you could control your own destiny and were beholden to no man. My parents had no power, and they worked their whole lives for someone else, right up until they both died way too young. First my mother got cancer, and then my father died a year later of heart disease.

I was alone in the world, but that was okay. I had only one goal, anyway. Women, money, these things didn’t matter. Only power mattered.

“Wyatt.”

I looked up from my thoughts. An older gentleman, portly and graying, sidled up next to me.

“Jonathan,” I said. “How’s the shipping industry?”

“Shit,” he said. “As always. How’s being a rock star treating you?”

I laughed. “Attorney general of Illinois isn’t exactly rock star status.”

“Maybe not out there,” he said, gesturing at the walls. “But in here, you’re important. You control the fates of these people, you know.”

“Including yours,” I said, smiling.

“Somewhat.” He said, waving a hand. “Have the hyenas pounced yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure they will soon.”

“Don’t get suckered by the money, Wyatt.”

“I didn’t know you cared, Jonathan.”

“I don’t.” He shrugged and finished his drink. “I’m just bored.”

He turned and walked away. I scowled for a moment before righting my face again, calming myself. Jonathan West was one of the richest men in the room, a shipping magnate. He was an old school businessman, and ruthless as hell. He helped finance my campaign, though I never exactly understood why. He never asked for a favor and never even insinuated that he wanted one.

I glanced across the room, scanning for other men I knew, when I suddenly saw her. I nearly took a step backwards.

Long, dark hair. Full figure. Beautiful lips. Striking eyes. She looked back at me, a steady and intense gaze, with a small smile playing along her face.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Tan, creamy skin that I wanted to lick. She quickly looked away, returning to her conversation.

Which rich bastard scored that woman? She was far more attractive and younger than most of the women in the room. She had to be someone’s mistress, but she didn’t look like the mistress type. There was something about her, something interesting.

I’d been with plenty of women in my life, but I never stayed with one. That was unusual for someone in my position, because having a wife was often a political necessity, but I was never at a disadvantage there. I never needed a wife, and I found it was much more fun to have a new woman in my bed whenever I wanted one.

Maybe this girl could be another one of those.

I made my way across the room, eyes locked on her. For a moment, I envisioned holding her down against the table and sliding my thick cock between her legs. I’d love to see her gasp as I filled her. I wanted to make her body sweat, hear her beg my name.

Just as I approached, she moved away from the group of men she was speaking with. She smiled at me, cocking her head to one side.

“Hello,” I said. “I don’t think I know you.”

“No,” she confirmed. “You don’t.”

“Wyatt Carter.”

“I know.” She shook my head. “I’m a fan.”

I smirked at her. “You’re a fan? Strange thing to be a fan of.”

“You’re the youngest attorney general in history. It’s hard not to be a fan.”

“Youngest and handsomest,” I said, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Louisa.”

“Who are you here with, Louisa?”

“Myself.”

“I take it you just want to help out...” I trailed off, looking around. I had forgotten what the cause was.

“Homeless children,” she said.

I grinned. “That’s right.”

“The children are our future.”

“Of course they are. And homeless ones, especially.”

“Can I get you a drink, Mr. Carter?”

“Call me Wyatt. And how about I get you one?”

“Actually,” she said. “I’d rather you do something else.” She stepped toward me and I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Come with me.” She took my hand in hers.

I felt my heart begin to beat fast in my chest. “And where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere nearby.”

I held her hand and pulled her closer to me. “I’m not in the habit of following strange women. There are a lot of powerful men here, men that can be useful. Why should I give up my time to you instead?”

“Because,” she said softly. “You’re curious, and you’re the kind of man that indulges his curiosity.”

I stared at her, and she looked back defiantly. I loved that, and I felt my cock begin to stiffen in my pants. She excited me, although I had no clue who she was. I only had a first name, and nothing more.

But I had nothing else to do. There was no reason I couldn’t indulge. Besides, I’d take what I wanted from her, and I’d rejoin the party.

“I’ll go,” I said. “But I’m not normally the type of man who follows.”

“Good.” She smiled. “You’re the type of man I’m looking for.”

She headed for the exit and I stayed close, wondering how her wet pussy would taste as I made her come, over and over again.