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Payment to the mafia (Series)

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Amaira
158
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10.0K
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Summary

I was stubborn and I will remain stubborn. Vengeance is my other name. When I want something, I make it mine. I want her. There has never been a moment where I've left a dept. I take whats mine specially when it's from one of my rivals. The girl sitting in my car, Caroline thinks she is mine because her father owed me a debt, but that isn't why she is sitting in my car beside me with her bottom sore inside and out. She's wet, well-used, and coming with me whether she likes it or not because I decided I want her, and I take what I want. I am not a gentleman for sure. As a lawmaker's daughter, she probably thought no man would dare lay a hand on her, let alone spank her thoroughly and then claim her beautiful body in the most shameful ways possible. She was wrong. Very, very wrong. She's going to be mastered, and I won't be gentle about it. I am her one and only master.

RomanceArranged marriageMafiaBillionaireBadboyDominantMatureEroticSex

1

Dominick

Only in darkness can I feel the light...

The thought was revealing. A monster’s personality. My father coined the word ‘primal’ for his second born son, a spawn he’d shared proudly with everyone in and outside the traditional family, the Borgata. The term was perfect for a man ascending to the throne.

I was ruthless and heartless both in business and in the ways of pleasure, preferring more sadistic methods of passion. My first love would always be making money and I was rich and powerful in ways few could dream of.

I was also on borrowed time.

That was the way of crime families, only one step away from hitting the front page of the New York Times. Murdered in cold blood. Horrendous acts of revenge.

Retaliation.

The statements fit our way of life, but given the power and influence, we didn’t give a fuck about our chances of meeting the grim reaper. What we did care about was eradicating our enemies.

This was the same for the men I’d gathered into a special club, ill-advised at best and one kept secret from our fathers. After all, we were considered mortal enemies. However, there was an additional connection, a friendship my father had with the Chicago Don, one that had transcended various turf wars over the years. Carmine Francesco was four years my father’s senior, but by all accounts, he had a firm hold on the Midwest. And my father? Brutal.

Unforgiving.

And some said ready to turn over his kingdom to his son.

I took a sip of my drink, savoring the delicious and very expensive bourbon. The five bureaus, as many referred the mafia kingdoms, remained masters of the underground, controlling everything from transportation and the country’s supply of heroin to the movie and music industry. Few Americans truly understood our far-reaching tentacles.

Or the danger we presented.

I eyed the last man to enter the private room, holding back a vicious sneer at his swagger. “You’re late.” I swirled the tumbler, concentrating on the way the melting ice clicked against the thick glass. This wasn’t my first drink of the day nor would it be my last. We had business to conduct, brutal business. Decisions we made tonight would consume the lives of our enemies.

I didn’t care for Lorenzo Francesco, merely tolerating his acceptance into our club; however, he was considered royalty within our ranks. I’d known him for years, loathing his tactics. Sadly, shunning him could mean a horrific turf war—even with the friendship between fathers. Lorenzo was certainly more powerful than the others. Or perhaps I should say, well connected.

“Dominick Lugiano, my friend.” Lorenzo held out his arms as he approached the table, staring directly into my hard, cold eyes.

“Sit down, Lorenzo,” Aleksei barked, the Russian accent more prevalent than usual. He was a second-generation immigrant, his father, Aleksandr Petrov having strong-armed his way into Philadelphia. The Bratvas were savage, angry, and barbarian in nature, but effective in dealing with those who opposed them. I had complete respect for their regime.

Lorenzo chuckled and adjusted his suit jacket before easing into his usual place, tapping his fingers on the table. “Where the hell is the waitress?”

“Keep your voice down,” Miguel remarked. The Miami syndicate was well known for their brutal tactics, but certainly none greater than those in New York. Still, the Garcia family was highly respected among the various kingpins.

I took a sip of my drink, keeping my own rage at bay, noticing that the fifth in our group was paying zero attention, preferring to text on his phone, no doubt to his agent. Kelan Rock preferred his life as a movie star to accepting his role as the up and coming Don of Los Angeles. I had a feeling the man would have a difficult road in the future.

As if on cue, the only waitress ever allowed in our private section eased into the room. She was beautiful, albeit barely twenty-one, and considered off limits to all of us.

A terrible shame but one we honored collectively.

I wouldn’t mind introducing her to the darkest side of kink.

I held the conversation until she’d positioned the drinks, enjoying the leering eyes of every man surrounding the table. We never varied from our selection, one she knew very well. She earned her tips in various ways, her lovely figure being one of them. When the door was closed, I leaned over the table.

“Why are we here?” Lorenzo lifted an eyebrow, his contempt at our meetings obvious.

“Drummand Hargrove.” I waited as the name sank in, glancing at every one of my associates. They were well aware of my unconditional tactics, but this meeting was geared toward eliminating my satisfaction of an issue. Their role was limited to necessary support; paving the way with law enforcement and street thugs. Comparing notes was merely a perk of our industry. We took a vote and stood by our decision, no matter the consequences.

“The state senator?” Aleksei finally asked.

“The very one.”

“What beef do you have with him?” Miguel was already smiling as if he knew the answer.

I took a deep breath before answering. “He’s systematically trying to shut down our shipping and trucking businesses, forcing extra tariffs and making it almost impossible for our workers to make ends meet. They haven’t been able to pay their... taxes in the last two months. In addition, he’s behind a new set of proposed regulations on casinos, which is a total crock of shit given his proclivities. As you can imagine, none of this sits well with my father.” I always chose my words carefully.

“I bet not,” Aleksei snarked. “Your father is a vicious man. Why doesn’t he deal with this?” The words were offered with pride.

“I heard your father is considering giving you the nod,” Lorenzo stated.

I slowly turned my head in Lorenzo’s direction. News of this nature always traveled fast. There was no hiding the fact I’d been prepared to take the throne, but my father wasn’t ready to give up the reins. Our family had a firm hold on New York. What we’d been able to accomplish during the last six months had been considerable. Cleaning up the streets in a way our fathers refused to do. I shifted my gaze back to Aleksei. “Because his tactics would create a war.”

“What’s this senator’s nemesis?” Lorenzo toyed with his drink.

“Gambling and women.” My answer was succinct. I had him in my clutches with no way out.

“Two things that don’t bode well on the political circuit. I heard he was considering a run for president.” Kelan finally joined in the conversation, his light blue eyes sparkling. “Heard some fascinating shit about what he likes doing to very young girls. Tying them up. Beating. Not a good guy.”

Lorenzo burst into laughter. “A shithead. Perfect. What do you want in return for allowing him to keep his... reputation?”

I leaned back, envisioning my prize as my cock throbbed and my balls tightened. I wanted to crush him in a manner he’d never forget. “His daughter.”

There was no conversation. The vote was unanimous in my favor.