Mafia's Captive Desire

The brunette gasped softly as another wave of pleasure hit her, making her body shake before she collapsed into the sheets, fast asleep.

Barry lay still for a moment, watching her. Then, he sighed and got out of bed. Moving smoothly, he stretched his arms and walked to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water wake him up as he washed away the sweat. His body relaxed, but his mind stayed sharp.

By the time he stepped out, drying his hair, two loud knocks came at the door. He was buttoning up his white shirt when he said, "Come in."

The girl stirred, pulling the sheets around her as the door opened. Barry didn't look at her. One of his men walked in, standing straight.

"Sir," the man said. "We found him."

Barry paused before finishing his last button. His eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"In the boroughs. He just left an apartment. He's with a woman."

Barry smirked. Predictable.

"We can go after him tonight," the man suggested.

Barry shot him a cold look. "No. Bring Carrick Depay to me in an hour. No delays." He grabbed his jacket, feeling the weight of his gun inside. "If he escapes, you'll regret it."

The man swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, boss."

Barry adjusted his cuffs and glanced in the mirror. The girl was awake now, staring at him with wide eyes. She flinched when he met her gaze. He just smirked and turned away.

His men would handle her.

Without another word, Barry left the hotel room, his man following behind him.

***

Lucy Depay groaned as she got off the bus. Another exhausting night. The air was cool, the sky pale blue, but all she cared about was getting home. She pulled her hoodie up, covering her blonde hair. She was used to the judging stares.

She didn't hate her job anymore. It paid the bills, and that was what mattered.

Yawning, she climbed the apartment steps, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Her stomach twisted when she saw the sink full of dirty dishes.

Her jaw tightened. "Seriously?"

She stomped toward the second bedroom, the one that had been hers alone until three days ago. She banged on the door. "Carrick!"

The door opened, and her older brother stood there, his hair messy, his eyes barely open. "What, Lucy?" he grumbled.

She pointed at the sink. "Clean it. Now."

Carrick groaned, rubbed his face, and slammed the door shut again.

Lucy exhaled sharply and went back to the kitchen. She shoved a frozen meal into the microwave, frustration bubbling inside her. She should have said no when he showed up. But he'd looked so tired, so desperate. She couldn't turn him away.

She never could.

A few minutes later, he dragged himself into the kitchen, shirtless, looking too comfortable. She rolled her eyes as she sat down with her food, watching him wash the dishes.

"You still won't tell me why you're here," she said casually.