Deviant desires a daddy.., p.1
Deviant Desires: A Daddy Dom Mafia Book, page 1
DEVIANT DESIRES
A DADDY DOM MAFIA ROMANCE
CAMERON HART
Copyright © 2023 by Cameron Hart
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.
CONTENTS
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1. Massimo
2. Tempest
3. Massimo
4. Tempest
5. Massimo
6. Tempest
7. Massimo
8. Tempest
9. Massimo
10. Tempest
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Cameron Hart
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River: One look at the stunning waitress carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I’m a goner. I wasn’t looking for a sweet little thing with auburn hair and more baggage than I can fit on the back of my bike, but there’s no going back now. She’s mine. I’ll prove to her I’m more than capable of handling her past and making her feel safe again.
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DEVIANT DESIRES
I was checking in with the Marino crime family contacts at the shipping docks when little miss Tempest stormed in, much like her namesake. The curvy, five-foot-nothing woman has something to prove to everyone she meets, but she has no idea what criminal world she’s just gotten herself involved in.
When the too-tempting, sassy young woman demands a job and then disobeys a direct order, I have no choice but to discipline her. What I don’t expect is the possessive, protective rush I feel when she’s surrendering to my touch.
Tempest is a chaotic whirlwind of emotion and trauma, and the more I learn, the more I realize what she needs. My little girl is desperate for a Daddy. I hardly know what that means, but I’m certain I’m the only man for the job.
One wrong move, and our enemies discover my new weakness. I’ll burn New York City to the ground before I let another man lay their hands on my precious girl.
Hold on, little love. Daddy’s coming to save the day…
*As with all Cameron Hart books, Deviant Desires is a safe & steamy read with a guaranteed HEA!*
1
MASSIMO
“The next time I’m forced to come out here to locate a missing shipment, I’m going to tie an iron anchor around your neck and toss you off the nearest dock. Do you understand?”
I stare at Angelo, one of the hundreds of foot soldiers I have under me, waiting for his response. The twenty-something wannabe gangster is shaking slightly and can't seem to look me in the face. Good. Fear is usually the correct response when I'm speaking.
“Yes, Boss,” he says, his eyes trained on the ground.
“I don’t want your empty words,” I snap. Angelo tenses, then nods, never looking up. “I want action. Do you think I like coming all the way out here to the docks and checking each delivery to ensure everything has been handled properly?”
“No, Boss,” the defeated man mutters.
“Then it must be because I’m so damn pretty. You want to see more of me around here? Is that it?”
“No. I mean, um… well, it’s not that I don’t want to see you. I, uh, didn’t mean…”
I let the idiot squirm for a bit. I'm not going to put a bullet in his head, but it never hurts to let him question for a moment what I'm capable of. The difference between a thug and a leader is knowing when to pull the trigger and when to click the safety on.
I’m about to tell the kid to take a breath and not pass out on me, but then something strange catches my attention.
No, not something. Someone.
A woman’s voice rises above the soundtrack of choppy waves and hard manual labor that plays in an endless loop here on the docks of the Hudson.
“...will work twice as hard as anyone else,” the voice finishes.
I turn my head in that direction, trying to figure out what little lamb got lost and wandered straight to the slaughter. Angelo is about ready to hyperventilate, but I can't seem to give one single fuck about him or anyone else. Not when the air is being siphoned from my lungs by the short, curvy little siren with midnight black hair.
She’s talking to one of my captains, and something about that blurs my vision and makes me squeeze my hands into fists. A snarl rumbles up from deep in my chest, the sound rough and unhinged.
What is this… feeling?
My ribcage is shrinking, making my heart beat out of my chest.
Is this how I’m going to die? A heart attack at thirty-nine? What a lame way for a mob boss to meet his end.
My feet start moving before I even realize what I’m doing. I can’t seem to control my body anymore, all I can do is surrender to the pull.
What the fuck is she saying to my captain? Why is he talking to her? Why is he looking at her? More importantly, why do I care?
I’m barely aware of Angelo muttering that he’ll do better. I’ve all but forgotten my original reason for coming down here. Plans change. Right now, my mission is to make this woman go away. She’s clearly causing a disturbance, and for some reason, she makes my chest ache.
The closer I get to the conversation, the less I like what I hear. She wants a job on the docks, which is not going to happen. I just need to tell her that and send her on her way.
My eyes are trained directly on the mystery woman, taking note of the way she carries herself - with an air of stubbornness and determination she uses as a shield. And yet, I can see the way her shoulders tense as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.
As I step into the conversation, I’m aware of how strange this looks. The Boss coming to bring the hammer down on his delinquent foot soldiers only to peel off and awkwardly join a conversation I wasn’t invited to. I can’t seem to do anything about it, however.
My captain, Gregory, acknowledges me with a nod, though I see his slightly raised eyebrow. Yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing here, either.
“If you’re looking for a job, I’m the one to talk to,” I announce.
The woman gasps, just noticing me for the first time. She turns her full attention on me, and holy hell… those eyes. Deep blue and glowing with equal parts tenacity and vulnerability. This woman has a storm raging beneath the surface, and some dark, twisted part of my soul wants her to unleash her fury on me. I could take it. I could absorb it all. All of her anger and hurt. I don’t know how I know this about her, only that I feel it in my bones.
Whatever the fuck that means.
“Oh,” she finally says, blinking those mesmerizing eyes a few times as if just remembering the conversation. “Yes.”
The woman straightens her spine, standing to her full height of barely five feet. She sweeps her hand down her blouse, which I’m just noticing for the first time is wrinkled and stained. Her slacks are professional-looking, but they are too big for her and have a hole in the right knee. My eyes drop to her shoes, which, unsurprisingly, are in as bad of shape as the rest of her outfit.
I get that weird, tight feeling in my chest again, almost like I don’t want her to be in shabby, ill-fitting clothes. In fact, I feel the urge to buy a dozen new outfits for her made from the softest of materials that won’t scratch her delicate skin.
Jesus, get it together. You can’t be losing it over a woman. A young, lost, scrappy woman at that.
“I figured there would be an opportunity here at the docks to make some money under the table,” she starts, never breaking eye contact with me.
I recognize the stubborn streak in her gaze, the same as mine. And yet, I see something else beneath her bravado. There’s a desperate tint to her eyes. Something fragile lies in her soul. Something precious and pure. Something I have the strongest desire to protect.
“And you think you’re able to handle the kinds of tasks that pay cash, no questions asked?”
“Absolutely. Surely there’s some shady shit going on here that no one wants an official record of. I’ll do odd jobs and make enough to get on my feet. I’ll work sun up to sun down if that’s what it takes. I just need a job, and I’m a hard worker. I won’t let you down.”
I should tell her to fuck off. To go play somewhere else. Go bother another asshole for a sketchy job. That’s what I would do in any other situation. But this woman?
Who will protect her if she leaves?
My captain clears his throat next to me and I glance over at him. Gregory has a questioning look on his face, but I narrow my eyes at him in warning. He knows enough to back off. Yes, I’m aware this is crazy. Yes, I know it will end horribly. No, I can’t stop myself.
“I can start right now,” she continues. “How does fifteen dollars an hour sound? I can load, unload, dump bodies, clean up a crime scene…”
Gregory chokes out a laugh, covering it with a cough. I simply stare at her, trying to figure her out. Not only is fifteen dollars an hour a pathetic wage to ask for, especially here in New York
Shaking my head of those thoughts, I focus back on the woman standing in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest. Her ample chest that I’m not allowing myself to stare at.
“No dock work, bodies or otherwise,” I finally say, crossing my arms over my chest to mirror her stance. “But you can help keep the unofficial record of shady shit that happens here.” Again, my captain gives me a look, but I don’t acknowledge him. I have no idea what I’m saying. I don’t have a job for this woman. All I know is that I can’t let her leave here without knowing she’ll be taken care of in some way.
“Excuse me?” The sassiness in her voice should piss me off, but instead, I want to kiss the fight right out of her. Seriously, what is wrong with me today?
“Keeping an unofficial–”
“Yeah, no, I heard you. I just wanted to give you a chance to try again.” I stare at her, absolutely speechless for possibly the first time in my life. Did she just cut me off? And reprimand me? “This isn’t the nineteen twenties. Women can be more than secretaries, you know.”
The strangest fucking thing happens, which is saying something since this whole goddamn morning has been one insane thing after another. I smile. Well, it’s more of a smirk, but I can’t remember the last time someone elicited that response from me.
“Be that as it may, record-keeping is the only job I have available. Take it or leave it.”
I’ve negotiated with drug lords, criminal masterminds, dictators, and rebel leaders. I’ve made offers with the most intimidating and conniving men in the underworld, and yet this is the first time I’m anxious someone might not take the deal.
“Fine,” she finally says. “I’ll take it. I’m Tempest, by the way. I thought you might want to know the name of your new employee.”
“Tempest,” I repeat, mostly to myself. “Fitting.” Much like her namesake, Tempest came in like a whirlwind and turned everything upside down without even trying. “Massimo,” I grunt, not even sure if she heard my introduction.
She holds out her hand for me to shake, but I don’t take it. I can’t. I don’t know what I’d do if I touched her. She makes me… feel things. Think things. Things I don’t understand and don’t deserve.
“Be here tomorrow at eight,” I clip out before spinning on my heel and walking toward my driver. I don’t bother checking in with Angelo. I assume he’s off proving himself to be the best little soldier the Marino family has ever seen.
As I slip into the backseat and tell my driver our next destination, I can’t stop thinking about Tempest and her stormy blue eyes.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
2
TEMPEST
I roll up my sleeping bag, then gather the toiletries and the precious few items I brought with me when I ran away, shoving everything into my giant backpack. I frown as I look over the makeshift shelter I built for myself last week. Cardboard, cinder blocks, and a tarp with several large gashes in it. The saddest part is, this isn’t the worst place I’ve slept over the last six months.
All of that is in the past, I remind myself. Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Cliche, I know, but a girl has to cling to whatever hope she can find in this world, right? Besides, today really is different. I have a job.
After hoisting my backpack over my shoulders, I take one of the larger pieces of cardboard and cover my shelter, hoping it survives another day. If I’m able to work really hard and get extra hours, I bet I could stay in a hotel by the end of the week.
That thought brings a smile to my face and a bit more energy to my steps as I make my way to the Reinhold Office Plaza. I walk past the front of the building, turning right and following the little path that leads to the door of the building’s private corporate gym.
It requires a key card to enter, but luckily for me, I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out the workout schedule of some of the big wigs. They get here at six in the morning and stay for an hour. The place is mostly cleared out by seven-fifteen, which just so happens to be in two minutes.
I crouch behind a set of bushes right next to the door, lying in wait until the first generic businessman walks out. Two more follow, and that’s my cue. Right before the door closes, I shove a stick in the door jam, preventing it from shutting and locking.
Viola! I have access to the gym showers, warm towels, and clean bathrooms. Before rinsing off, I find one of the charging stations and plug in my phone. This place has everything except for food.
Honestly, this is the best set-up I’ve had in a while. The showers in the fancy corporate gym always have hot water, and the water pressure feels amazing on my sore neck and shoulders.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m looking somewhat presentable. At the very least, my face is clean and I’ve wrestled my long dark hair into a halfway decent braid. One last look in the mirror, and then I’m off to my first day on the job.
When I get to the docks, I’m not entirely sure what to do or where to go. I hid my backpack and sleeping bag in the alley behind two abandoned-looking cars, and now I don’t know what to do with myself.
All Massimo said was to show up here at eight. I’m a few minutes early, but that’s a good thing when it comes to making a good impression. Not that I’ve had much practice at that. Playing nice and putting on airs have never been my strong suits, but I’m trying.
The docks are mostly empty, aside from a handful of fishermen just getting back from a morning out on the water. I take a few steps forward, peering around several crates to see if Massimo is here somewhere.
I don't sense his presence, which is a crazy thought to even have. Massimo, however… he commands whatever space he's in. Yesterday, I was so focused on finding a job, that I started blabbing to the first person I saw that looked like they were in charge. And then the giant man in a three-piece suit walked up and overwhelmed every single one of my senses.
With dark hair, a closely-shaved beard, and deep, brown, endless eyes, how could I not notice him? His spicy leather scent was tinged with something metallic. I’m not sure if it was sweat or blood, but… I loved it. How fucked up does that make me?
That’s nothing new though, I suppose. I’m nothing but another trailer trash, no dad, druggie mom, small southern town sob story.
“Tempest,” someone says, making me jerk my head in that direction. I can tell instantly it’s not Massimo. His voice is deep, gritty, and yet somehow velvety, especially when he lets himself almost smile. This voice, however, is higher. Whinier. Nothing like the man I met yesterday.
“That’s me,” I respond, turning to see the man speaking to me. He’s tall and lanky, and to my surprise, he looks almost… afraid of me? That doesn’t make sense.
“Boss wanted me to show you your office and go over your new job.” The way he says it lets me know exactly how he feels about my employment.
I’m not sure what kind of organization I’m working for, but I get the sense people usually don’t just ask for a job here and get one. I can tell by his narrowed eyes and stiff demeanor that this man isn’t thrilled to be the one training me.
“Great,” I reply, giving him my best smile. He sneers at me and rolls his eyes. Fuck you, too, buddy. I’m just doing what I have to do to survive.
I move toward him and he backs away, spinning on his heel and briskly walking toward a warehouse-looking building off to the right and tucked away. I try catching up to him, but the cranky man keeps speeding up as if he doesn't want to be too close to me. I rinsed off under an hour ago, so I know I don't smell bad. What the hell is his problem?
