Controlled by the Mob, Tami Lund [ebook reader 7 inch .TXT] 📗

“Until you showed up, my plans consisted of sitting around that bed and breakfast all week, watching Maureen to figure out how she runs the place. Remember my dream to possess her someday?”

He chuckled. “I have a better plan if you’re interested.”

“What’s that?” She leaned forward.

“Accompany me on all my touristy excursions, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the hotel industry. B&Bs are a little different in how they market, but the general concept is the same: provide a clean, comfortable space for guests to use as a base of activity when they are away from home.”

He shrugged, as if admitting what he did for a living were of no consequence. And, truthfully, that in itself wasn’t an issue; it was his original determination not to let work—or his family, and the two were very much entwined—intrude on this brief respite.

But this was different. He was helping Shannon, and not because she’d asked but because he wanted to.

Her eyes widened. “You work in hotels? Where?”

“Our flagship hotel, which is where my office is located, is in downtown Detroit. But our hotels are all over. The family business is a hotel management company. Which my dad took over from my grandfather when I was a toddler, so I pretty much grew up in and around hotels.”

“Wow,” she said, but then she shook her head. “I don’t want you to talk business while you’re on vacation. That totally defeats the purpose.”

“Aren’t you on vacation? And isn’t your vacation to study a business you intend to start someday?”

“It’s different,” she insisted. “I made these plans with that purpose in mind. You expected to come here to get away from business. So no, we are not talking hotels while we are here. But if you want to take me to that distillery, I will not object.” Her tone went from serious to playful in an instant, and, suddenly, he wanted to keep the playful edge.

“Your wish is my command,” he said as he began to load their leftovers back into the picnic basket. It was a term he’d once upon a time loathed because it was true about his life: He always did whatever everyone else wanted him to do, regardless of his own opinion in the matter.

Except this time it took on a whole different meaning. Whatever Shannon wanted to do, so did he. Especially if she wanted to do it with him.

Chapter Six

Well, that had been a brief but potent near heart attack moment.

The minute Leo had said he worked in hotels, Shannon immediately feared that he owned one of the properties where she met her clients. Sure, she was discrete, but she knew damn well that hotel employees were far more aware of their environment than anyone gave them credit for, and if Leo made the connection, realized he’d seen her at what was essentially her place of business, he’d surely ask the inevitable question.

What do you do for a living?

And she had no illusions that he would appreciate the answer. Men of his station in life did not hang out with call girls, unless of course they were paying for services rendered. And no way in hell would she ever offer that to Leo. If something were to happen between them, it definitely wouldn’t be a business fuck.

She would be all in, on an entirely personal level. She would let go, strive for her own pleasure, maybe even demand he give it to her. She would not blow him because it was part of their contract; she would do it because she wanted to, because she knew she’d get as much of a thrill out of it as he would.

God, how she’d dreamed over the years of having sex for the pure pleasure of having sex, because she was attracted to a guy and he was to her and there were no other underlying reasons.

The first time she’d ever had sex was at the tender age of twenty after being kept a prisoner for nearly a year in his basement, her captor wooing her even as he refused to let her free. She knew what Stockholm Syndrome was because she’d lived it.

And she’d been repulsed by herself, even more so when she moved into his master suite and for a moment, they played house. She’d thought that was what she wanted, to be a mafia don’s far- too-young bride.

Yes, even though he was thirty-six years her senior, her captor wanted her to give him another child.

She’d thought about that conversation the first time she’d had sex with Davit when he returned home from college and declared her “his” now.

As soon as Davit climaxed and rolled off her, she rushed to the bathroom and retched, puking up all her despair and humility and frustration because she’d let it all happen, and she hated herself more with each passing day.

“Here we go,” Leo said, guiding his SUV into a small parking lot next to a long, one-story building situated on the main drag through the small town of Lake Leelanau. “Ready to get your tasting on?”

He was so upbeat, so relaxed, so friendly—so very different from any man she’d ever spent significant time with. All she’d known were men who were hard, spoke mostly of business, and always took what they wanted, with no care for the consequences.

Because there rarely were consequences. Any potential for that was eliminated. Her captor had appropriately compensated her father and they were still business associates, on friendly terms. That’s why her father never looked for her, never found her. Shannon had been afraid to ask what sort of compensation he’d given, mostly because she did not want to know how much her father believed she was worth. Even when she’d been freed from the basement, given a smart phone and told she could