Tame me daddy a dark rus.., p.1
Tame Me, Daddy: A Dark Russian Mafia Romance (Boston Kings Book 6), page 1
TAME ME, DADDY
SARA FIELDS
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Afterword
About Sara Fields
Paranormal, Sci-Fi, and Fantasy Romance by Sara Fields
Mafia and Billionaire Romances by Sara Fields
More Stormy Night Books by Sara Fields
Copyright © 2024 by Stormy Night Publications and Sara Fields
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Fields, Sara
Tame Me, Daddy
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Have you told him about our secret? How you caress
these pages while thinking about taking it
like a good girl for Daddy?
Sincerely,
Your Book Boyfriend
CHAPTER 1
Riley Murphy
Tricking Gregor Orlov was simple.
Honestly, he was just a six-foot-five Russian troglodyte that saw a little cleavage and lost his fucking mind.
Like I said. Simple.
Men were so easy to figure out. Show a little boob and they follow you around like a donkey running along to catch a damn carrot on a string. It was always truly something to behold.
I wasn’t going to give him anything, not even a little nip, but he didn’t know that. I wasn’t going to take away his hope. If I did that, it would be a catastrophe.
I needed to get to America, and he was going to help me do it. There was nothing for me here in Dublin. Fuck, there hadn’t been anything for me in more than ten years, not when the Gallaghers killed my parents back in the turf war that decimated the Irish branch of the Murphy family and everything that I held dear.
I’d been only eight at the time, but I remembered every bloody moment from my mother screaming at me to hide as the enemy dragged her away to the bullet between the eyes that ended my father. My aunt Nora and my uncle Cormac had come to a similar end, but I’d been lucky enough not to witness that too.
My whole world changed that day.
Ever since my cousins left the country, there had been nothing but orphanages and foster homes for me. I’d become a ward of the state, but I had just turned eighteen and now I had a taste of sweet, sweet freedom.
I wasn’t going to waste it in Ireland. There was too much history for me here. I’d gotten in more than my fair share of trouble over the years, and I needed a clean slate. I wanted nothing more than to leave my past behind.
That was where Gregor came in. It wasn’t the first time that I’d had to trick a man into giving me what I wanted. It probably wouldn’t be the last time either.
I was just the kind of girl that did what was needed to get the job done.
Some might call me a hustler. I just called myself an entrepreneur. Sometimes that meant I had to be a little tease to get what I wanted, but a girl needed to do what she needed to do, right?
Either way, my resourcefulness had gotten me out of several hellish situations and now, I was ready to move forward with my life.
Away from Dublin. Away from my past and all the bad memories that plagued my nightmares.
I shook my head, trying to shake off whatever bad juju was lingering over me today and focused on the man in front of me. With a smile, I softened my features and cocked my head.
Gregor passed me a very full glass of vodka and I traced my fingers around the rim.
“To our success,” I said.
He grinned down at me, his dark eyes roving over my body like he hadn’t had a drop of water to drink in weeks. His fingers brushed against mine as he lifted his glass and drank down his vodka. I did the same, barely suppressing the grimace that wanted to paint my lips at both his touch and the god-awful taste of the alcohol.
Vodka was gross. Whiskey was so much better. Truly, nothing beat a glass of good ole Irish whiskey, but he’d bought me a drink and I wanted him to think he was getting somewhere.
He wasn’t, not ever, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I knew we were going to be great together,” he said. “I told my associates you were going to make us a lot of money.”
I bit my lip and batted my eyelashes, trying to play the seductress all while feeling like a fraud, which I was, but I wasn’t going to let him know that either.
“When we get to America, we’ll make a killing. Pairing up with you was the best decision I ever made, Riley. We’re going to make so much money together.”
His gray eyes searched mine, greedy and wanting and far too probing for my liking. I leaned back, putting a little bit of distance between us.
“When do we leave for Boston?” I asked demurely, remembering myself and reaching for his hand. With a coy smile, I traced my finger along his and his smile expanded exponentially.
I couldn’t wait to be free of this creepy bastard.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, dumb usually played hand in hand with creepy and Gregor had both of those down pat.
“Soon,” he answered, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Soon, you’ll be right by my side, ruling Boston with me. You’re so beautiful, Riley. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I swallowed back a grimace and threw another shot of vodka down my throat. When I looked back at him, his smile had grown. Apparently, he liked what he saw.
I was playing with fire, and I knew it.
I just hoped I didn’t get burned.
His breath was laced with vodka, heavy enough to paint the air between us. As he leaned in, I met his gaze, my own feigned interest hiding the calculations running through my mind.
I wanted to vomit.
“So, about our plan for Boston…” I started, tracing the rim of my glass with a finger, watching his eyes follow my every subtle movement. “I’ve been putting in some thought as to how we can really make our mark.”
Gregor perked up, his bulky frame edging closer. “Yes? I’m all ears.”
“Well,” I paused, ensuring I had his undivided attention, “I believe we could expand beyond just traditional routes. We’re in a digital age now, right? Money laundering doesn’t have to be all grimy cash and shady backroom deals. What about cryptocurrency?”
“Crypto?” he echoed, his thick accent wrapping around the word strangely. His confusion was almost comical.
I held back a laugh and covered it up with another sip of vodka.
Fuck. I hated this stuff, but I swallowed it down because I had to.
“Yes, crypto,” I confirmed with a nod. “It’s perfect for us. Untraceable, fast, and it crosses borders without any fuss. We could set up an entire operation, funneling money through digital currencies and washing it clean as spring water.”
Gregor’s eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but with the monumental effort he was making to try to understand me. “And you know how to set this up?” he asked, his interest now piqued. I imagined that he was envisioning the possibilities.
As far as I knew, Gregor was a nobody in something like a gang. He’d been vying for leverage for a long time and through me, he hoped to get an in with someone in Boston to strengthen both his name and his reputation.
I’d convinced him that money was power.
Which was probably one of the only true things I’d told him.
Fuck it. I had no regrets.
“Absolutely,” I lied smoothly. The truth was I knew just enough to be dangerous, but that was more than Gregor knew, and it was enough to keep him hooked. “I have contacts in New York. Tech geniuses who eat this kind of work for breakfast.”
He was practically salivating at the idea, the scent of power and money too intoxicating for him to ignore. “And what do you need from me?”
“With the right initial funding, I can get us the tech we need, pay off the right people, and ensure the infrastructure is set up. You’ll just watch the money roll in. You won’t regret this.”
He would. Eventually.
Gregor leaned back, his gaze assessing, then softened into a smile that was meant to be charming.
It missed the mark.
“I knew there was something special about you, Riley. From the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes and throw up in my mouth.
“And I know a good opportunity when I see o
“To us.” He raised his glass, toasting to our ‘bright future.’
“To us,” I echoed, clinking his glass with mine.
I was playing him for a fool, but I just needed him until we got to Boston.
Then I was going to disappear.
It was a simple plan, but the best ones always were.
The only problem was plans were rarely simple when they came to fruition.
Especially when they involved a man like Gregor.
CHAPTER 2
Maxim Morozov
The vodka slid down my throat so smoothly that I tipped my head back and groaned softly with my approval. It was rare to find really good Russian vodka in a bar here in Boston, but in my bar, I shipped in all the best stuff.
The Iron Wolf Tavern was mine and I served what I wanted when I wanted simply because I could.
Nestled in a dimly lit corner of Boston’s bustling North End, the Iron Wolf Tavern was frequented by me, my brothers, my men, and all manner of Russians alike.
We had a reputation for being one of the best and I fully intended on keeping it that way.
I was especially proud of the interior. It was draped in deep red velvet fabrics and decorated with gold accents that shimmered under subdued amber lighting. Heavy, dark wood paneling lined the walls. The bar itself was a massive, ornate piece of mahogany, behind which rows of the absolute best bottles of premium Russian vodka were displayed like trophies.
Honestly, the place reminded me of home.
I sat in my booth in the back, watching as the regulars mingled, their voices a low hum of Russian and English words. The front door swung open, letting in a burst of chilly autumn air, and my brother Sergei walked in, scanning the room with his usual assessing gaze. With a wry grin on my lips, I lifted my glass toward him in greeting.
“Ah, the fortress stands strong,” Sergei commented dryly as he approached, nodding at the robust security at the door. His green eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he clapped me on the shoulder before sliding into the booth.
“Only the best for us,” I replied, pouring him a shot from the bottle I reserved for family only.
No sooner had Sergei settled than Ivan strolled in, his phone in hand, likely closing another lucrative deal or hacking into something he shouldn’t. His distracted demeanor changed as he noticed us, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Brothers!” Ivan exclaimed, pocketing his device as he slid next to Sergei. “You started without me?”
“Nonsense,” Sergei shot back with a smirk. “We were merely prepping the stage for your grand entrance.”
Before they could say anything else, Aleksei made his appearance. Always the most stylish among us, his tailored black suit was impeccable, which only added to his ruggedly handsome looks and well-groomed beard.
“Did someone mention starting already?” Aleksei remarked, his eyes scanning the shots of vodka lined up as he joined us. “Don’t worry, I come bearing gifts from the latest art auction. Spoils fit for kings,” he added, setting down a small, exquisitely wrapped package at the center of the table.
“Only Aleksei would bring art to a vodka party.” Nikolai’s booming voice filled the tavern as he entered last, his massive frame barely fitting through the doorway. He ruffled Aleksei’s hair as he passed.
I shook my head.
“You call this a family gathering? Looks more like a somber council of war,” Nikolai joked, enveloping Ivan in a brief, bone-crushing hug before turning to me.
“Maxim, you look like you’ve swallowed a bear,” Nikolai teased, his eyes twinkling as he took the seat opposite us.
“Perhaps he’s just savoring the vodka,” Ivan suggested, raising his glass.
“Or perhaps,” I began, raising my own glass, “I’m contemplating the empire we’re building.” I proposed a toast, and as our glasses clinked, the warmth of family and vodka filled me with fierce pride.
We were the Morozovs.
Since arriving in Boston only recently, my family and I have carved out our own niche in this bustling city. Coming from Russia, where life often felt like a high-stakes chess game, we brought with us a fierce loyalty to family and a robust sense of responsibility to our community.
I opened the Iron Wolf Tavern not long after we settled here as a discreet base for my family’s operations.
It hadn’t taken long, but Boston was our city.
“Speaking of empires,” I said as my brother’s laughter died down, “I called you all here for a reason. Let’s move this to the back room. We have serious matters to discuss, and they’re not for the ears of every Tom, Dick, and Harry in this place.”
My brothers nodded with their understanding and then we all stood up and headed toward the door in the back. The back room of the Iron Wolf Tavern was our usual meeting place. Lined with the same dark woods and rich textures as the main bar, it held a round table that seemed more suited to a band of medieval war strategists than modern-day businessmen, but it worked for us.
As we settled around the table, I cleared my throat as I took my seat.
“Brothers,” I began, my voice low and steady, “we’re at a turning point. It’s time we expanded further than these walls and this city. Boston is just the beginning. I think there’s potential in New York.”
Sergei leaned forward, his fingers tracing the interstate lines on the map. “New York is extremely competitive. It’s teeming with others who won’t welcome us. We’ll need a solid plan before we even step foot in the place.” His voice was cautious, always the strategist among us.
“Think about the new tech opportunities, Sergei. It could give us the edge we need,” Ivan chimed in, his voice filled with excitement. I could always count on his optimism to lift the mood.
“And here I was thinking Ivan would want to set up a server farm in Times Square.” Sergei gave Ivan a playful shove before turning serious. “But he’s right. New York offers more than just new ground—it’s a hub for innovation, something that could benefit our entire operation.”
Aleksei, who had been quietly listening for much of the conversation, finally spoke up. “We could blend in, maybe even start some cultural initiatives to garner community support. Art exhibitions, perhaps, bridging the old and the new.”
I nodded. “That’s a really good point. Winning over hearts and minds could be just as important as any tech-savvy business strategy.”
The room fell silent for a moment as we all considered the possibilities.
“Let’s put it to a vote then. All in favor of expanding our operations into New York, say ‘aye,’” I declared.
“Aye,” came the chorus, each voice firm and resolute.
“And those opposed?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Silence answered me, and I grinned, meeting the eyes of my brothers one by one.
“Then it’s settled. We move on New York,” I announced, a sense of pride and excitement swelling in my chest.
We all stood up, gathering in close. Sergei clapped me on the back, Ivan raised his glass in a toast, Nikolai’s booming laugh filled the room, and Aleksei’s quiet, knowing smile spread over his face. Together, as a unit, we were going to make our name even bigger and more powerful than it already was.
“Let’s make this the beginning of a new chapter for us,” I concluded, and the five of us smiled at one another, the anticipation written all over our faces.
A sudden shout cut through the wooden doors of our private room. Then, more yelling echoed throughout the room, the distinct sound of a chair scraped violently against the floor, and the unmistakable grunt of men clamoring for a brawl soon followed.
In an instant, all five of us were moving.
Sergei reached the door first, pushing it open with a force that made it slam against the wall. We spilled into the main area of the bar, immediately scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.
Through the crowd of shifting bodies, a towering figure emerged. He was a massive man, easily six-foot-six, his fists clenched as he shouted in thickly accented Russian at a considerably smaller man who was trying to, quite unsuccessfully, calm the giant down. Beside the giant stood a young woman, her expression one of both annoyance and sheer embarrassment.
