Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Book Introduction: Yes, Daddy

Blurb:Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Driving down a dark street in blinding rain, I hit something.

That something turns out to be Esme Tremain. She’s running from someone, but I’m going to be sure she doesn’t run from me.

With one look at those red lips and mouthwatering curves, I’m instantly obsessed. When I tell her she belongs to me and she answers with, ‘Yes, Daddy’, her fate is sealed.

I’ll protect her.

I’ll possess her.

I’ll do anything for her.

Only, this sweet, smart intern at the DA’s office doesn’t know who I really am. I walk on the other side of the law and our differences may be the fire that burns the bridge between us. What she doesn’t know is, once I take all of her, I’m never letting her go.

1

Vito

I WATCH AS THE AUTO shop owner counts the stacks of hundred-dollar bills. He’s nervous. I’m not like his typical customers, and my requests for the customizations on my new black Suburban were unique to say the least.

“We square?” I grumble as I stare at my phone, answering texts and emails while he opens a safe behind his desk and stacks the money inside.

“Y-yes,” he stutters, taking the last of the cash and securing it in the little black box, unaware that I could break his safe in less than thirty seconds if I wanted to.

I paid nearly double the quote for the upgrades on my new ride under the condition that he would get it done off the books and in less than a week.

He did both, so I’m pleased, and I’ll send him more business from people like me who need services like his. He may be nervous, but I have a sixth sense for people, and I’m betting he understands what loyalty means.

He rustles through a stack of papers on his desk, pushing empty coffee cups, screwdrivers and other shit around that looks like it’s been sitting there for years. Every few seconds he glances my way with an apologetic nod, but all I want is for him to calm the fuck down.

I don’t think he knows exactly who I am, but he has an idea of what I am. We didn’t exchange names. Most people wouldn’t know me on sight, but they would know my name. My family has a history in Detroit, and I’ll admit not all of it is good.

In fact, most of it isn’t good.

But even without knowing my name, I’m intimidating. Both in looks and presence. Add to that, the bulletproof glass, reinforced-steel roll cage and other customizations, I think he’s got some idea I could be a problem for anyone I found didn’t serve me.

“Here. Your receipt.” He raises the piece of paper from the desk with a shaky hand.

I scowl. “I don’t want a fucking receipt.” My brows draw together. “What part of ‘no records’ did you not understand?”

“I’m sorry.” He slowly pulls the paper back to him. “I just thought you might want a… list of everything we did. I don’t know how this works…” He rubs the center of his forehead with his other hand.

“Did you do everything I asked?”

He nods.

“Then I know what you did. I don’t forget things. Or people.”

I see him swallow hard as he tears the receipt into tiny pieces and throws them into a trash can. I hold out my hand, and he takes it in a limp shake that has me fighting off the urge to squeeze harder and give him a speech about being a man. Instead, I opt to get on with my evening. I’ve got some uncomfortable business to take care of, and I don’t like to put things off just because they’re unpleasant.

If I did, I’d never get anything done.

He raises the shop door as I hop in the Suburban and start it up. It rumbles under me, then the noise disappears completely as I shut the door-the stone silence of the interior is just what I requested.

The first flash of lightning brightens the dark sky as I pull out of the garage and make my turn toward my former business partner’s office.

My former office.

But things change. Even in my somewhat shady business, people draw lines and have their own limits. There are things I won’t do. I’m no saint-I’ve done things that would make most mothers cry. But it’s how I grew up, and the truth is, my mother was proud of me.

God rest her soul. She passed away three years ago from complications of pneumonia. My dad preceded her by ten years, taking a slug from a rival family while he was having dinner at a now closed business-friendly restaurant downtown.

He was eating spaghetti with my former partner’s father one second and taking a bullet between the eyes the next. The other guy got a bullet into the shooter, but it was too late for my father. Our families have been friends and partners of one sort or another for three generations. Salvatore and I grew up together, got in scrapes together, and always had each other’s back.

Unfortunately, when Sal started to branch off into sex work with girls barely old enough to drive, I drew my line in the sand and made it clear we were going to part ways.

I’m willing to take a financial hit to distance myself as quickly as possible from that shit, and honestly, I’m seeing a side of him that makes me glad we’re dissolving our business relationship.

I’ll still manage a lot of the weapons sales. That’s been under my supervision primarily, and Sal doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to make it work. Trying to persuade a buyer that you know what you’re talking about, when all you really know is how to point a gun, is liable to get you killed.

As for me, I know what I’m talking about, and I can hold my own if it comes to it, but I don’t pull the trigger these days unless it’s personal. The liquor and protection will be split evenly, as well as some of the enforcement. I have taken to contracting most of the hands-on work in that department over the years, so if that’s the price of leaving, I’m willing to let it go.

Truth is, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. Going solo suits me right now, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given my philosophy when it comes to my personal life. I watched my parents love story crumble around them when my father took up with some side action, watched it break my mother’s heart. She stuck with him; why, I don’t know. Tradition, I guess. But I lost all respect for him and any drive to have a happily ever after of my own.

Because it doesn’t exist.

My phone lights up as I sit at a red light, and I see it’s my sister, Maria.

“Hello,” I answer, putting her on speaker.

“What are you so grumpy about?” Her light voice takes a bit of the darkness from inside the car. She looks, sounds, and has a lot of mannerisms like my mother-both of them perpetual optimists with kind hearts but steel backbones.

“I’m not grumpy, just on my way to a meeting I don’t particularly want to have. What’s up?” I’m within a few minutes of my destination, but I always answer when she calls if at all possible. She’s my only family left, and while she may be a pain in my ass, I love her with every inch of my heart. Even if she does ride my ass like Zorro trying to get me to go legit, have a wife, family, picket fence and some hairy mutt to trip over.

“Just wanted to remind you about dinner Monday. Rebecca will be there.” There’s a sing-song lilt to her voice, and I roll my eyes and try to hold back my irritation.

She’s been trying to set me up for years, but she’s leveled up her push the last few months. I’ve dated, if you can call it that, but found that most of the women weren’t all that interested in me. They wanted the lifestyle and the pocketbook that came with it.

Or it could just be that I’m a grouchy fuck. Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t all that interested in them, to tell the truth. Something just never clicked, and love has never been a priority to me.

It’s not just the lack of belief that love is real, that it can last or is worth the effort. It’s also that my life is non-stop, 24/7 work. Dangerous work. And I could never have someone attached to me who could be used as a weakness. So, love, relationships, kids… it’s just not on my radar.

“Yeah, probably not going to make it, sis.”

“Please, Vito. You need to have some life other than business. You’re going to wake up one day and look back and see that’s not what matters.”

The family business never did sit right with Maria. She took her own track, going to nursing school, but she still lives in our family home, which is just fine with me. It’s big. Bigger than she needs, with lots of upkeep necessary, but I help out with all the expenses because despite my grumpy nature, family sticks together.

Even with my father’s indiscretions, we had a happy life mainly due to our mother and her unwillingness to have their marital troubles intrude on her children’s lives. Then, as we grew older, my father’s frequent business trips and the times we would find our mother crying started to make more sense.

“Now is not the time for a lecture. I’ll let you know if I can come, but I’m busy now.”

“Fine. You’re always busy,” she grouses. “I love you, you big idiot. I’ll bother you tomorrow.”

We sign off, and I take the last turn toward Salvatore’s office as a bolt of lightning flashes and torrents of rain suddenly start to soak the streets and the car.

Thunder claps so loud I can hear it in the silence of the car, and lightning fills the sky as I move down the nearly abandoned downtown street. No one is out in this neighborhood at night, even when the weather is nice; add a storm like this, and it looks like a ghost town of old warehouses and boarded-up storefronts.

I pass a few glowing neon ‘Open’ signs in some dumpy bar windows, but other than that there is little sign of life tonight.

I slow the SUV as rain splashes across the windshield, making visibility near zero. Then another bolt of lightning flashes. It strikes a streetlamp just in front of me, lighting up the night for a split second with a cascade of sparks, and I’m momentarily blinded. Thunder follows loud enough to shake the car.