The Submission of a Mafia Princess (2 page)

She considered stepping outside for about a half of a second. Her father wasn’t due home until the evening and her housekeeper, Maria, was running errands. It was an ideal time for an introduction. But she couldn’t put herself through the disappointing look, which would be evident in his eyes when he saw her. Someone like him: muscled, trim and tanned wouldn’t want anything to do with Toni and her plump backside, full hips and ‘thunder thighs’. At least that’s what her father called them. She’d heard the story how the “Azzari ass” was passed from generation to generation of Azzari women about a million times. Her father told her it was pointless to fight it. The “Azzari ass” was in her genes and as inevitable as her love for cannoli. Then he’d look at her lovingly and tell her it didn’t matter because she’d marry well and wide hips would ensure she’d gift him with many grandchildren. Could she allow herself to hope this man would be different from other guys she’d known? She was used to guys treating her with kid gloves because of her last name, but snickering about the fat girl behind her back.

Toni sighed when he returned the equipment to the pool house and retrieved his shirt. However, instead of throwing the shirt back over his shoulder and leaving, he sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge with a scrap of paper and a pen. Leaning on the side table he quickly scribbled a note. He stood, faced the window and purposely folded the paper with the same sly smile on his face. Pulling the glasses off again, he crouched down next to the lounge chair and slid the folded note under one of the legs. With one last look at the window, he winked, grabbed his T-shirt and pushed open the gate while whistling a tune as he left the pool patio.

Staring at the note, her palms grew sweaty anticipating what was written inside, but she waited for the rev of his motorcycle and wouldn’t dare go outside until she was sure he'd left the driveway. She pushed the glass door open and padded onto the bluestone patio in bare feet. Crouching, she pulled the folded paper from the chair’s leg, sat at the bottom of the lounge and slowly unfolded the note he left.

Her eye’s quickly scanned his handwritten note then reread it slowly.

Hi.

Do you have something against fresh air? Come on out next time. I promise I won’t bite (unless you want me to).

Braxton Malone

Unless you want me to. Liquid heat boiled through her body and dampened her panties as her heart raced. How could he possibly know she couldn’t rid herself of the overwhelming desire to feel his mouth on her skin? That she’d fantasied about him biting and sucking his way down her body, slowly unfolding the passion that lay dormant for so long. Twin sensations of fright and excitement curled around her insides, turning them to a puddle of warm lava ready to explode.

****

Brax couldn’t shake the vision of the girl in the window. She’d even invaded his thoughts in his sleep. Those haunting eyes looked scared, sad and intrigued at the same time, if that was even possible. There was something she was hiding. Something was not quite right.  He’d always had the feeling of being watched from the first day he was assigned to clean the Azzari pool. Knowing it was the home of notorious mob boss Tony “The Chief” Azzari, Brax assumed he must’ve been on camera. Then he saw those almond shaped eyes peering at him from the window. At first, she’d disappear when he looked her way but each day she’d stayed longer until they maintained eye contact.

It’d been two days since he left the note and he’d hoped to see her on the patio when he opened the gate, but his heart sank as he scanned the empty pool deck. Brax sighed and reached over his shoulder, pulling the fabric from the back of his T-shirt over his head. The forecast called for a hot and humid July day, typical of summertime in New Jersey. The sun’s rays were already beating down on his bare shoulders. Stepping into the cool pool house, he flipped the light switch. The overhead light didn’t turn on as expected so he tried it again. He made a mental note to leave a note for Mr. Azzari about the light bulb when he heard a rustling noise from the back of the room.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a soft voice called out.

The sunlight seeping between the closed curtain of the room’s single window was all that kept him from tripping over the assorted boxes and equipment in the small storage room.

“Is there a reason we’re in the dark?” Brax chuckled at the awkwardness of the situation.

“I’m hiding,” she called.

“Hiding? From me?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, pretty much.”

“Okay. Umm, why don’t you come out and we can talk.”

He was drawn to the movement of boxes, which sat on a table in the corner. She lifted two of them away, revealing the face he’d seen from the window. Her eyes were still consumed by fear and sadness.

“Hey,” he said softly. She tilted her face downward and strands of her straight, shoulder length hair covered one eye. He continued to approach her as she bit down on her lower lip.

“Would you please stop there? You’re making me nervous,” she said, looking up at him for a moment before her eyes shifted down again.

This time he couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “I’m making you nervous? I’m not going to get jumped by a group of mobsters with guns, am I?” Brax asked and looked around the small room.

She laughed. Not one of those high-pitched giggles, girls seem to all master. No, this was a hearty deep chuckle that made him smile in appreciation.

“No one else is here but me,” she said with a grin.

“Good to know. I’m —”

“Braxton. I know from the note.”

“Brax for short and you?”

“Toni,” she said softly.

“Toni Azzari. Hmm, I think I’ve heard that name before.” He put his index finger to his mouth and bunched his eyebrows as if he was trying to recall where he’d heard it.

“Yes, I’m Tony ‘The Chief’ Azzari’s daughter.” She smirked and made quote marks in the air with her fingers.

“Ah ha. Well, Miss Toni Azzari, are you going to come out from behind the table?”

She didn’t answer but glanced downward again.

“What is it? Do you have three legs, or maybe a tail? Look, whatever it is, I can handle it.”

She glanced up at him through a veil of thick eyelashes and continued to nibble at her lower lip. That lip stirred things in his stomach, making him want to nip at it as well.

He sensed the debate she was having with herself. Her eyes reflected her thoughts, making her even more vulnerable. She finally nodded, seemingly in response to her own decision rather than an answer to his request.

Silently, she slipped out from her hiding spot and stood about ten feet from him. Smoothing her hands down the tops of her jean-covered thighs, she flicked her eyes toward him for a split second before looking down again. He couldn’t help but stare. Gazing over her curves made him dizzy. This girl had the looks and body that would stop any man in his tracks. What was even more amazing was she seemed to have no idea of the effect she had on him. She peered beyond him to the door as if contemplating making a run for it. He had to put her at ease. Fast.

“Brax Malone at your service,” he said with a bow. “It’s truly an honor to meet New Jersey royalty.”

She laughed again. “New Jersey royalty? Funny.”

“You know, you don’t look like a Toni.”

Their gazes locked. He tried to pinpoint the color of her eyes but it was too dark to know for sure.

“No?” she questioned.

“Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have a man’s name. What’s Toni short for?”

“Antonietta. It’s a combination of my parents’ names.”

“Does anyone call you Antonietta?”

She shook her head. “No one.”

“Would you mind if I did?”

She smiled a million-dollar grin that warmed him to his toes. “That would be okay.”

Extending his hand, he took a step closer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Antonietta.”

She placed her palm in his and Brax’s immediate instinct was to pull her soft body into his. To shelter her, to make her whole, to help her. But of course, he couldn’t. He accepted her small handshake.

“Good to meet you too.”

Chapter Three

New York City - Present Day

Brax’s day began as it did every weekday. Up before dawn, an hour long workout at his office building’s gym followed by long hours chasing international commodity prices from his corner office on the fiftieth floor. The wheels of his motorcycle rarely rolled onto Wall Street from the parking garage until way past happy hour. That night was no different and the growl of his stomach as he mounted his bike prompted him to scroll through his phone’s contact list in search of his favorite Thai take-out place. Before he connected the call, a familiar number appeared on the screen. He smiled at the display as he smoothed his thumb over the glass.

“Hey Asher, what did I do to have the pleasure of this call?”

“Where’ve you been, man? It’s been too long since you’ve graced SRE with your ugly mug,” Asher boomed through the phone.

“Miss me, do you?” Brax asked with a chuckle.

“At the risk of sounding unmanly, yeah, I do. Mia asked about you. She said you haven’t been in since you two talked about taking on a new sub. But that’s not why I called. Jake could use your help. He’s working on the new drink menu and can’t get one of the concoctions right. He said you helped him make it a few weeks ago.”

Brax paid his way through graduate school working many odd jobs: cleaning pools, walking dogs and a crazy yearlong stint as a bartender at a trendy city nightclub, where he had no choice but to learn the recipe of over one hundred mixed drinks.

“Oh yeah, I remember it. It was fruity. Not my thing, but if I recall correctly, the female persuasion loved it that night. Put him on and I’ll tell him how to make it.”

“Better yet, come on down. I hear you put on quite a show. If that commodities trading thing stops paying you boatloads of money you can always work at the SRE lounge,” Asher said with a snort. “Seriously Brax, I think you can use a break. I’ll bet you’re still at the office.”

Brax scrubbed his hand over his face and looked around the parking garage. Asher’s assumption wasn’t too far from the truth. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but he didn’t want to let down his friend either. What’s wrong with me? Any hot-blooded twenty-seven year old single man would jump at the chance to hang out at SRE on a Friday night.

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Brax said and ended the call. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, pulled on his helmet and steered his motorcycle toward midtown.

Blinking, Brax allowed his vision to become accustomed to the dim lights of the SRE lounge. It was well past happy hour and light piano music had already changed to the heavy techno beat that never ceased to get his heart pounding. An electrifying spark of excitement filled him as he fought to push visions of the dark haired girl into the far reaches of his brain. Why had his conversation with Mia affected him so much? She’d unknowingly opened an old wound, one which he planned to heal tonight if he could find the right sub. Catching the eye of a few new submissives in the club, he strode to the far end of the candlelit bar where Asher sipped one of the many small glasses on the bar in front of him. Jake, SRE’s lounge manager, studied Asher’s face as he tasted each one. Brax slapped Asher on the back.

“Is this guy giving you a hard time, bartender?” Brax asked shaking both men’s hands.

“Braxton, my man. I’m glad I talked you into coming down. Jake here is failing miserably trying to copy your recipe,” Asher said, handing him one of the glasses.

“Umbrella drinks aren’t my specialty.” Jake shrugged.

Taking a sip, Brax grimaced, set the glass down and slid it across the bar to Jake.

“Move over and watch the master in action.” Brax rolled his shirtsleeves over his forearms and strode to the opening at the end of the bar. He walked to Jake’s side and looked at the bar’s stock. It was a bartender’s dream come true. “You’re spoiled back here, Jake,” Brax said with an appreciative grin.

“Hey, just be sure not to tell the boss,” Jake retorted, nodding at Asher.

Brax chuckled as he pulled two chilled martini glasses from the freezer. Cheers rose from the other side of the bar.

“Let’s see some flair, Brax,” said a high voice in front of him. Casey. He often wondered if there were any real parts of her body. Fake tan, boobs, lips, hair and damn, even her eyelashes were fake. Casey had been after him for a scene for a while and he was almost desperate enough to take on Fake Casey that night.

Brax plastered his best shit-eating grin on his face and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Flipping it over his shoulder, he caught it behind his back, eliciting more cheers from the crowd. He bounced shot glasses on the bar and caught them in his hand before stacking them into a pyramid. Filling them with a single pour, the overflow from the top glass filled the others. After handing out the shots to the crowd of primarily women fishing for his attention, he moved onto the recipe for the Satin Rose Sunrise. After a few pours from an assortment of bottles, the chilled martini glass filled with a gradual orange colored concoction. He slid the glass toward Jake and Asher who each took a sip.