Page 1 of Submitting to Daddy
TWELVE WEEKS AND ONE DAY AGO
“Where the fuck have you been?” Enzo shouts, the second I push the front door open. His shoes slap against the hardwood floor as he angrily storms toward me from the kitchen. “The meeting is in twenty fucking minutes. We were supposed to leave five minutes ag?—”
Eavan’s shrill scream slices through the air, interrupting him. “Put me down, Cian!” She writhes on my shoulder, her fists pounding against my back and her feet flailing, as Enzo steps into the front hall.
She kicks, and her foot slams against my balls so hard that my knees buckle and nearly give out beneath me. Gritting my teeth, I snarl, “For fuck’s sake! Would you fucking stop? I’mnot going to hurt you.” Eavan is fucking relentless, trying desperately to remove herself from my shoulder as I shove past Enzo and carry her into the apartment. She fights me with every step, her fists slamming on my back, and her legs struggling against my firm hold—ensuring she doesn’t get the opportunity to kick me in the groin again.
“What the actual fuck?” Nikolai huffs the second I step into the kitchen. “We’re bringing women here now? Oranyonefor that fucking matter?”
I know I shouldn’t have.This place is our secret, and we don’t share it with anyone. But I had to. Outside of Enzo and Nikolai—my brothers, not from blood—Eavan is the only person I have left in this world who I care about. She’s my little sister, and it’s my job as her big brother to protect her. And after tonight, when these men become my family, she’s going to need all the protection the three of us can give her.
“If she’s for later, Cian, I’m gonna pass.” Nikolai disapprovingly shakes his head as I walk past him. “I like my women feisty as fuck, but I also like them willing.”
Nikolia’s words hit a nerve, and I see fucking red—I feel it creeping up my neck and spreading over my face as I spin on my heel to fist the front of his crisp, white shirt. My nostrils flare from angered breaths as my gaze flits between him and Enzo. “Even if she were fucking willing, I’d fucking end you for trying to put yourmankycocks anywhere near her. Either of you.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Releasing my hold of him, I mutter, “She’s my little sister.”
“I’m sorry? Your fucking what?” Enzo exclaims with a mixture of anger and curiosity. Matching my brisk steps as I cross the open space to the adjoining living room, he huffs, “We’re about to… And you brought your fucking sister here?”
“We’re late. We can talk about this later,” I gruff, dropping Eavan to the couch. Her messy red hair still tousled over her face, she clambers to her feet. I press my hand to her shoulder and lightly shove her back into the cushions I dropped her on. Staring down at her, I gruffly demand, “Stay. We’ll be back in a few hours.”
I don’t give her a chance to complain or argue. She grumbles as the three of us leave her behind, briskly walking to the elevator. Waiting for the cab to arrive, I anxiously glance over my shoulder at the door to the apartment.This is for the best… her best.We step into the cab when it arrives, and Nikolai grouses, “Really? Your fucking sister?”
“Later,” Enzo grunts, not even remotely trying to mask his displeasure with my sudden, undiscussed change to our previously well-defined plan. He shakes his head. “We don’t need the fucking distraction. Not tonight.”Knowing she wasn’t safe would’ve been a far bigger distraction.
Our heavy footsteps slap against the concrete and echo through the parking garage as we make our way toward Enzo’s G-Class. He turns over the engine, and I meet his narrow eyes in the rearview mirror.This upset him more than I expected it would.Letting out a heavy sigh, I grumble, “I know I fucked up. I had no cho?—”
“Fucking later!” Enzo shouts, pulling into traffic. “We have twenty minutes until the biggest meeting of our family’s lives. Your sister isn’t what any of us need to be thinking about.” Fighting my need to explain myself, I listen intently as we verify tonight’s plan.
By the time we reach the meatpacking district of Chelsea, the SUV falls silent. Enzo makes a sharp left toward the abandoned warehouse, and my eyes roam over the four veryout-of-place cars parked before the meeting spot. My father’s Bentayga, a black Tahoe, a Rolls Royce Ghost, and a BMW Z4—the latter likely belonging to the other people attending tonight’s meeting.
“They’re all here,” Enzo mutters, almost underneath his breath. I’m as surprised as he is that everyone actually showed up to this meeting. Irish, Bratva, and Italian sitting down at one table—a meeting like this is practically unheard of. The three of them coming together to discuss a joint business venture—like tonight—is even more ludicrous. Apparently, to the three of them—especially my father—money matters more than anything.
Enzo, Nikolai, and I have talked for what seems like forever about how great it would be to merge our families. We would be practically unstoppable with how strong and powerful we’d be if we were all working together. On the surface, tonight seems like everything we’ve wanted—but I can’t take it like that. As if their decision to delve into the deplorable world of human trafficking isn’t bad enough, there isn’t a part of me that is okay with the cost we’re paying to forge this deal—my sister.
“This is her role,” my father spat when I shared how much I was against this deal. “She’ll be a good little wife for whoever I promise her to.”Translation: A good little whore.With the family he’s promising her to, she’d be lucky to only be subjected to the bastard she’s being married off to. And that isn’t something I’m willing to make her endure.
The three of us pause at the front door to the warehouse, our gazes meeting.
Both their faces are stoic, but there’s faint hesitation hiding behind their eyes. I’m sure they can see the same tinge in mine. “My brothers,” I exhale with a slight nod. Nikolai and Enzo echo my sentiment, and Enzo pulls open the door.
It creaks loudly on the hinges, alerting our fathers to our arrival. The three of them—Tazio Roseti, Rian O’Brien, and Rurik Romanov—are seated around a dimly lit table with the fourth in their business plan—an Armenian who is going to supply the women from overseas—and all their eyes lift to us into the dark space. The four of them rise from their seats as we approach, but I’m unable to pull my eyes from my father and the Armenian—both clearly displaced by the lack of Eavan on my arm. The Armenian leans toward my father and grumbles, “I thought you were bringing your daughter.”
“Where is your fucking sister?” my father grouses as I approach him, only furthering the rage coursing through my veins.
I shake my head, mostly in displeasure. The deafening bang of Enzo’s gunshot reverberates off the metal walls and through the massive space. By the time my father’s gaze snaps from Tazio Roseti to me, my gun is aimed at his chest. Without hesitation, I pull the trigger and pump three rounds into my father, muttering, “She’s your fucking daughter.”
Tazio Rosetti falls at my feet, his hand clutched firmly to his bleeding abdomen, desperately trying to pull the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. I turn my aim to him from my father and put another round into his chest. Finalizing the plan—each of us putting a bullet into each man—I squeeze a slug into Rurik, the light in his eyes immediately dimming.
Rounding the table, I step over the men who have ruled this city toward the Armenian, clinging to life in a puddle of blood on the concrete floor. “You don’t deserve to live. And your family sure as fuck doesn’t deserve my sister.” His gaze is fixedon mine, silently pleading for his life, and I empty the rest of my clip into him. The echo of my final gunshot fades, and the warehouse grows quiet.
“To my brothers.” Nikolai’s toast cuts through the silence that has filled the room. I turn to find him raising a bottle of vodka from the table into the air. He takes a swig and passes it to me.
Taking the bottle from him, I swallow back a couple of gulps. It burns the back of my throat, and I choke, “Ugh… fucking vodka… To my brothers.”
“To my brothers…” Enzo repeats, taking the bottle when I pass it to him. He throws back a shot and shouts, “The Kings of New York City.”
Tonight is just beginning.
ONE WEEK AGO
