Blacklisted Read online

  BLACKLISTED

  By Maria Delaurentis

  Thank you for purchasing this book. For more information about my other titles, please visit my website at http://www.mariadelaurentis.com and consider joining my mailing list for notification of new releases and special offers for my valued readers.

  Independent writers can only survive and flourish with the help of readers. If you enjoy my stories, please consider leaving a review on Amazon.com or telling your friends about my work. Just a few sentences can make a huge difference. Thank you.

  BLACKLISTED is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Maria Delaurentis. All rights reserved.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Cover design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  one

  "Irregardless, Gabriella…" he started to say, my anger boiling to the surface faster than he could finish the sentence.

  "THAT'S NOT EVEN A FUCKING WORD!" I growled out and turned on my heel, slamming the shop door behind me. I had been fired again, this time the reasoning being that "they didn't have enough money to pay an extra employee". However I knew better; I worked the register and I was fully aware just how much business they did.

  The truth of the matter is that I was blacklisted by Giuseppe “Joey” Genovese, head of the city. Stupidly, I had turned down a man twice my age when he asked me to be his side piece after he saw me waitressing at a popular gentlemen's club nearby. I mean—the nerve of me to not want to sleep with some guy my father's age, for money, right? Turning him down had gotten me abruptly fired, and since then had lost me any job that fell under his radar. That's the unfortunate part about living in a city where most of the businesses are being "protected" by these no good wise guys. Everyone ends up falling dependent on them. If they don't do as they're told they end up robbed, or injured, or dead. If they do as they're told... well, you end up with situations like me.

  "Mr. Genovese would like to have a word with you."

  The suited stranger delivered his message, grabbing a hold of my arm. I arched a brow but followed behind him towards one of the private VIP areas. He finally stopped as we reached a middle-aged man with startling dark eyes. His hair was combed back tightly, peppered with gray. His suit was tailored perfectly, and his shoes probably cost more than my rent. His menacing smirk gleamed in the darkness of the room, as I was not so gently deposited in front of him. "What's your name, principessa?" he cooed, his hand reaching out to hold mine, his lips pressed firmly to my skin. I fought to roll my eyes and spoke quietly, hoping to control my tone. "It's Gabriella."

  "Ahhh, Gabriella? Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Sit, sit." He quickly pulled a chair out next to him, pulling me down abruptly. "Now, what is it you do here?" he asked thoughtfully, his hand still holding mine, though his grip had tightened.

  "I'm one of Alec's waitresses…?" I said, not able to bite back my attitude at the obvious question. Did he think I wore this hoochie uniform for fun? Did he normally see citizens strolling around the streets in tiny black shorts, heels and a fitted closed vest with nothing under it? He laughed at my response, clearly picking up on my attitude, though he seemed more amused than angry.

  "I can't imagine that pays very well, does it?"

  His thumb began to move in slow patterns across my hand, his eyes catching mine. It was then that I started to see where this conversation was going, and unfortunately his grasp wasn't going to allow me to run off.

  "Alec pays me a decent amount for what I do."

  This wasn’t a lie. Between my wages and tips, I made enough to pay for the studio apartment I lived in, food, the insurance for my car, and a very occasional trip to the hairdresser. I had given up the luxury of having a cellphone, just so that I didn't have to sport dead ends and fried hair.

  "You seem hesitant. And a woman that holds such beauty as you shouldn't be making "decent" money. You should be taken care of."

  He grinned and dropped my hand to his thigh, but held it there, clearly aware of my intention to pull it away. "I can change all of this for you. A beautiful apartment, clothes, jewelry, anything your heart desires. For this you will share a bed with me, when I please."

  My eyes bulged at his offer. Was this guy for real? I was a lot of things, but whore material was not one of them. My dignity took a big enough hit just by wearing this costume every night that I was here. The idea of being supported by spreading my legs literally sent a shiver through my bones.

  "Thank you for your… generous offer, but I'm not for sale," I spit out, standing up quickly. His grip tightened to the point that I knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of causing me pain.

  "You're making a very stupid mistake, bambina. I urge you to re-think what you're saying."

  His voice had darkened; something evil was rearing itself in front of me. I shook my head and gave my arm a hard tug, freeing myself from his grasp. Without answering I quickly turned around and made my way out of the VIP area, running directly to Alec's office.

  "ALEC!" I yelled, slamming the door open. He glanced up at me from behind his desk covered in carefully organized stacks of bills. He was handsome, though still a bit old for me. He had bright blue eyes, and perfectly chiseled features. He kept himself impeccably groomed and always wore a suit. He was tall, with a built form, but he wasn't bulky. His dark hair was slicked back, though one curl always dangled in his eyes.

  "What is it Brie?"

  He eyed me carefully, though I could only imagine what expression I was making.

  "This... this man, in the VIP, tried to buy me?!" I spit out, still amazed by the words even as they left my lips. However, Alec's expression told me this wasn't strange. He didn't even seem remotely surprised.

  "Ah... Mr. Genovese. So I assume you’ll be leaving us?" he said quietly, folding his arms on his desk.

  "Excuse me?!"

  I blinked rapidly, unsure of why we weren't calling the townsfolk and grabbing pitchforks to go after the monster.

  "Brie, when does he want you to start?" He tried to make the conversation as casual sounding as possible, but I could see the tight-lipped smile that held him together.

  "Uh, I'm not going? I'm not going to be his live-in prostitute, Alec, that's ridiculous."

  "Then, unfortunately Gabriella, I'll have to fire you."

  "WHAT?!"

  “Mr. Genovese is… he's a sponsor to this club. If you've upset him, he won't allow me to keep you. Please finish up your shift and come back after, I'll give you your pay for this week and then you'll be done."

  And with that I was dismissed, let go.

  That had been a month ago, and in that time period I had been hired and fired from now three different jobs. From what I could guess, I was getting hired because they had no idea who I was, then fired the second any of Genovese's guys saw me. I made my way out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk outside. The streetlights had come on but it was fairly dead. Tuesday nights didn't hold much appeal to anyone, and often when I got out at night there was no one around.

  I rarely drove to work since I only lived about half a mile from the shop, and it was the only exercise I really got. I sighed a little and pulled my windbreaker tighter around my form, irritated by the chilly air that teased my skin. I had been born and raised in Philadelphia, and when my parents had decided to move to East Greenwich, I had stayed behind. I was finished with school, and old enough to take care of myself. However, I hadn't counted on some middle-aged
lunatic making it impossible for me to work in the one town that I loved.

  Kicking at the ground, I continued to walk towards my apartment, unfazed by the sound of a vehicle coming up behind me, until I heard the breaks screeching. Even then, I didn't lift my head. It wasn't until I felt arms wrapping around me, covering my mouth that my eyes became wide. I began to kick and fuss, but the strength of my captor was astounding. Whimpering against the gloved hand I continued to fight as I was pulled into the back of a van. I was thrown against the floor, my head barely missing the pile of chain that was dangerously close. I looked up at the looming form that crouched above me, before swallowing slowly. Was this just another one of his antics? She won't sleep with me willingly so I'll kidnap her, drug her, and play house with her unconscious body? I shuddered and pulled my knees into my chest, burying my face in my arms.

  "Don't be scared, Gabriella, I don't have any intention of hurting you," a soft, yet deep voice tried to reassure me, though he kept his distance.

  "My name is Michael, and I'll be your kidnapper tonight."

  He chuckled before climbing up to the driver's seat and taking off.

  two

  I chose not to speak. I didn't want my voice to betray me, and I honestly didn't want to know where we were going. Instead I clung to my knees and rested my head against the wall of the van, trying to keep myself from the edge of a panic attack.

  I couldn't tell how much time had passed when the van finally came to a stop. I heard him climb out of his seat, shut his door, and then heard gravel beneath his feet. He slid the door in front of me open and reached in, grabbing me roughly. I flinched at his touch and held my head down, letting him pull me towards the door of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. I sighed a little, picturing the dirty single mattress he was going to throw me onto in the room with no windows and the occasional rat. I squeezed my eyes shut and let him direct me, knowing that putting up a fight would only result in me getting hurt.

  I didn't open my eyes again until I felt us moving. I looked around and quickly discovered that we were in a freight elevator, going down. Great, so I'll be in a dirty basement, probably shackled to a wall, with rats the size of cats chewing on my feet. I kept my gaze safely averted from him, not wanting him to see the fear on my face. As we reached the final floor he opened the door, pulling me out. We made our way down a dark hall to a single steel door. He let me go, but not without a mumbled "don't do anything you'll regret". He held up keys and slid them in, unlocking it and pushing the door open. He nudged me in and shut the door behind us, reaching around to flip a light on. My eyes widened at the site before me, suddenly thinking this was some twisted dream.

  Everything was completely remodelled. What once was a probably dirty cement floor and even dirtier walls had been turned into a large open loft. The cement floors remained but they were clean, polished even. A kitchen area boasting stainless steel and black glistening counter tops was to my right, and a large living area with plush black sofas, a fireplace, glass coffee table and large flat screen was dead ahead of us. I could see areas farther off that were closed off by built walls, my guess being bathrooms and bedrooms. I turned to my right only to see he had already made his way towards what looked to be his office. There were multiple computers, a large desk, and a small but professional sitting area. Tilting my head I raised an eyebrow, growing angry quickly.

  "Okay seriously? What the fuck is this? What kind of kidnapper are you?" I glared at his back, my hands finding my hips.

  That same chuckle from earlier spilled from his lips, and he turned smirking at me. "This was never about making you uncomfortable, or scared even, Gabriella. This was just about making it very apparent that you are no longer "on the radar"—so to speak." He shrugged a bit and slid his coat off.

  It was now that I finally got a chance to look at him, my eyes widening a bit as I fought the urge to run to him like a bitch in heat. He was probably no more than 3 or 4 years older than me, as I was 22 he couldn't be any older than 26. He had golden brown locks that were carved into the stereotypical cut you'd see in the 1950's, carefully shaped and meticulously placed. Now that his jacket was off I could see perfectly sculpted arms, and the shadow of a sculpted chest and stomach beneath his clingy black tee shirt. His face was almost too handsome, godly even. Deep brown eyes stared back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as if he could tell what I was thinking.

  I knew it was ridiculous to be eye-fucking my kidnapper. I was fully aware that this put me in a new category of crazy. By no means was I some ugly duckling that couldn't do any better than some mamaluke, as my mom used to say, trying to use me in whatever ridiculous scheme he had. I had dark brown hair that I had let grow past the middle of my back. The natural waves hung around my face, tickling my neck and shoulders and then went past my breast. I was curvy, but still had a relatively small frame. I had taken yoga for years, to help with my balance, and had become quite tone from it, not to mention flexible.

  And what I could do to this guy... I shook my head quickly, internally groaning at the butterflies I felt in my gut. Why the hell do you have to be so damn attractive? I finally broke my eye contact and looked away from him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  "What are you going to do with me?" I said flatly, deciding there was no point in avoiding it any longer. He sauntered towards me, his fingers reaching up to slide my coat off my frame, his skin meeting mine after.

  "I'm removing the queen from the king's board."

  He guided me towards the living area and plopped me down on one of the couches, taking the seat next to me.

  "You’re familiar with Mr. Genovese, correct? Genovese had my parents killed and burned down our business after a…disagreement we had. I know that isn’t your problem—but unfortunately for you, you have no other option but to help me. I've been keeping my eye on him and in the process you as well. He's spent countless hours, and an unbelievable amount of money keeping you right where he wants you. And if he wants you that badly, I’ve got to have you in my back pocket," he said darkly, an almost murderous look in his eye. I slid a little bit farther away from him, the arm of the couch against my back.

  "Relax, Gabriella. As I said, I have no plans on hurting you. I'm not a naturally violent man, though I am a vengeful one. You will cooperate with the things I need from you, or you will be very unhappy for the duration of your stay."

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I found this side of him strangely appealing.

  "Your bedroom is at the end, on the left. You'll find plenty of clothes in there for you. Otherwise you will stay in here, unless we leave together. Everything you need is down here. If at some point you feel that you need fresh air, you can ask, and I may let you go outside. Are we clear?" he said sternly, and all I could do is nod. There was something in his eyes, the way he looked at me as though I was the answer to his problems. I couldn't help but sympathize—apparently my life wasn’t the only one Genovese had his heart set on ruining.

  "Is it alright if I go change...?" I asked quietly, not wanting to set him off, as I could still hear bits of anger in his voice. Even if it wasn't directed at me, I wasn't looking to encourage it.

  "Of course, go ahead." He smiled, though I could see it was forced. I made my way towards what he deemed my room and opened the door slowly, flicking on the light. I smiled a little at the décor, wondering if he had really done this by himself. There was a large plush rug that covered most of the room, a royal blue color that matched the bed set of the queen size bed in the corner. There was a full-length mirror, which I found interesting; why did he think I would care about my appearance if I couldn’t leave the building? There was a hand built closet with sliding doors, a dresser across from the closet and a decent sized flat screen on top of the dresser.

  I walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, blushing as I saw lingerie sets and nightgowns. Picking up a bra I arched a brow, wondering how he had known to pick a 34C, and why he thought I wou
ld need lingerie sets in the basement of an old warehouse. Shaking my head, I pulled a simple, long and silky black nightgown out of the drawer. I shed all of my clothes, pulling on the nightgown, and then a fresh pair of panties. I pulled my hair up on top of my head and secured it with the hair tie that I kept around my wrist. I took a quick look at myself, wondering what his intentions were with all of these seductive outfits he had chosen for me. Shrugging a bit, I made my way out of my room and closed the door behind me, walking back towards him. I couldn't help but blush at the way his eyes slid over my body, as if devouring me in his mind. That half smirk tickled his features again and he stood up, moving towards me.

  He took my hand and led me to the couch, gesturing for me to sit. I did and met his eyes, my curiosity obvious.

  "Lie down and look at me as though you want me, Gabriella," he instructed, before pulling his phone out. My eyes widened and I immediately folded my arms over my chest. He rolled his eyes and leaned over, ripping my arms away from me.

  "Remember what I said about cooperating? Jesus, I'm not putting them on some soft core porn site—I'm sending them to Genovese, so he knows I have you." He tapped his foot impatiently, looking to me again. I sighed and moved my arms away, mustering up my best seductive glance.

  "Gabriella, I want desire, not constipation."

  He sighed and knelt down next to me, placing his phone on the table. Before I could ask what he was doing his hand caught my jaw, and his lips met mine. My breath hitched, the taste of his lips invading my senses quickly. He let his other hand slide down my shoulder, to my arm, and then to the side of my waist making me shiver. I answered his kiss slowly, my own lips meshing against his as my eyes slid shut. Before I could deepen it he pulled away and stood, taking a picture.

  "Perfect," he said gently before walking towards his office without another word.

  I lied there quietly, my mind replaying his touch, his lips, and his scent over and over. I felt dazed, and slightly embarrassed that I was acting like a 16 year old again. He had been gone about fifteen minutes before he returned with a smug look on his face.