Tied Down Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  Tied Down

  Vanessa Waltz

  Edited by Beverly Horne

  Cover art by Kevin McGrath

  Photography by Wander Aguiar

  Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Waltz

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Tied Down

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knocked Up by the Bad Boy

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Married to the Bad Boy

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Property of the Bad Boy

  Chapter One

  Also by Vanessa Waltz

  About the Author

  Tied Down

  Author’s Note

  This book is a full-length, standalone novel that builds off events from the Cravotta Crime Family books, but can be enjoyed without reading the series. Tied Down ends at the 29% mark and includes Married to the Bad Boy and Knocked Up by the Bad Boy, the first two books in the Cravotta Crime Family series.

  Chapter One

  Sébastien

  The boss’ daughter wants me. She keeps making eyes across this crowded bar. She twirls her paper umbrella. Plays with her lips. Turns in her seat to smile at me. The question blazes from her gaze: Why isn’t he talking to me?

  Eva sits at the bar top. Gorgeous, alone, and off-limits. Her pale skin shines in the darkness. Thick chestnut hair tied back reveals a face so beautiful that a brief flicker of shame hits me for violating her in my mind. She wears a simple black dress. An intricate tattoo crawls up her arm like the branches of a tree blooming with pink flowers. Tiny bluebirds perch among the cherry blossoms. Looks Japanese. I wouldn’t have expected that from a boss’ daughter. Jesus, the fit Vito must’ve had when she came home with that on her skin. Probably lost his fucking mind.

  It suits her just fine. She’s a stunning woman. I’d still find her hot if she had a tattoo of a giant smiley face, and, damn, she has curves. Her outfit is sexy even though she’s trying to be modest. The dress shows enough leg and tits to make my cock pulse. If she were mine, I’d flip that tight black thing over her ass as soon as I got her inside my apartment. Fuck her from behind and finish in her mouth. I have hours of filthy thoughts dedicated to her. If her father knew, he’d kill me.

  Eva is like a jewel. Easy to notice. Impossible to ignore.

  And she wants me.

  Henri digs his elbow into my side, laughing. “You going to do something about that?”

  Her gorgeous eyes keep flicking back with a stare so intense my blood churns. “She’s the boss’ daughter.”

  Her father ordered me to watch her this week. Make sure she did nothing stupid. Apart from that, I’m supposed to let her do “whatever.” What would he say if I told him his daughter wants to fuck me? Most likely he’d just shoot me in the heart.

  I’ve been in this bar twice this week. It’s called Horsefeather. Fleur-de-lis wallpaper wraps around the dimly lit room. Incandescent light bulbs hang from the ceiling, low enough to touch. Soft orange burns from the filaments, casting its paltry light on the hipster clientele. My back stiffens against the leather couch. It’s real leather—I checked. Surprising for a bar. It’s as though someone designed this place with moody and dark in mind.

  Eva tosses her shining hair over her shoulder, impatient with me. This woman is as subtle as a flying brick.

  Henri shrugs. “So?”

  From the coquettish glances sent my way, I have an idea what she wants from me. “Her fiancé is dead. She’s upset.”

  Two weeks ago Marc Tremblay died face-first in his cereal bowl. The gunshot zipped through his window from an apartment across the street. One bullet to the head. He went out like a light. Frankly it’s a death he didn’t deserve. He was overzealous. Not too bright. The best that can be said was he died defending a family that already has a foot in the grave.

  “Maybe she’s looking for a good time.” Henri grins, elbowing me again. “Go talk to her. The longer you wait, the more fucking rude it is.”

  I’m a man of impulse and excess. Give me a glass of wine, and I’ll have three. Bring me to a buffet, and I’ll eat my goddamn weight. Once in a while, though, I come across a situation where I need to restrain myself. My self-control is better than most men in this business, except when it comes to her. With Eva, I’d never be content with a one-night stand. No way I’d be able to walk away. A few hours isn’t enough. Eva has no idea how long I’ve wanted her—six months—when she was tied to another man. Making a move on her then would’ve been a death sentence.

  Now he’s gone. Eva’s free. And I’m still trapped.

  The leather squeaks as I get up. The hipster lounge is cavernous and loud, decorated with wooden wall
s and a steel countertop. Eva sits at the bar, pretending to scan the menu of overpriced cocktails as I approach.

  I take the seat next and face her. “How’s your night going?”

  “Took you long enough,” she says by way of greeting.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She jabs my chest. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Eva’s wandering, bloodshot gaze and her fumbling movements fill me with dread. She’s wasted. I’m talking falling on her ass, blasted out of her mind drunk. Too bewildered to know where to put the menu. I take it from her and set it aside. I shouldn’t have let her get like this, but what was I supposed to do? Her fiancé died.

  Her cheeks flush with pink, the rosy color spreading down to her chest.

  Jesus Christ, do not look at her tits.

  I don’t. I flag the bartender. “About what?”

  “You.” Her smile tugs at my heart. “I’ve never seen you before this week. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  When she meets my gaze, my breath catches. It’s hard to come up with a single coherent thought, except that I want her. “I’m the new guy. Been working for your dad for six months. No, I’m not in a relationship.”

  I grasp the cocktail menu and read the list of drinks and their incoherent ingredients—what the fuck is an elderflower shrub? I set it aside, sighing.

  “Good.” Eva hooks her feet on the bottom rung of my stool. She brushes a strand of hair from her tits, and the blood drains from my head.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never know where the night will take us.”

  I grin, tapping the empty glass in her hand. “I think you’ve had too many of these.”

  She observes it. “No, I haven’t. Only three—maybe four.”

  “Lightweight.”

  “Please, I could drink you under the table. Or over it. I’m not picky on positions.”

  Eva Romano, are you flirting with me? I play dumb. “I doubt that, hon.”

  “You haven’t seen my wild side,” she purrs.

  “I’ve watched you for a week.”

  “So have I,” Eva says, her gaze steady. “You’re hot. There’s no way you’re single.”

  I’d bend her over this bar if this wasn’t the booze talking. I don’t trust a word she says.

  Eva looks at me under her lashes, wearing a tempting smirk. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I would if you hadn't knocked back four drinks.”

  Her bare leg grazes my slacks. The black dress lifts up her thigh. I watch it snag her skin, and I want to stroke the curves dragging my gaze.

  She’s drunk. Boss’ daughter. Off-limits.

  “I guess I’ll need to sober up then,” she says with a shrug.

  “If this is typical for when you drink, thank God I’m here.”

  “So you can save me or take advantage?”

  “Hmm. Can’t I do both?”

  “Nope. Have to pick one.”

  I laugh, and the bartender arrives with my manhattan. I grab it before she can. Alcohol wets my lips, and I sink into the comfortable haze. Everything disappears except her smoky eyes. I prepare myself for an evening of pretending her advances don’t flood my cock with heat.

  She touches my thigh. The warmth of her hand blazes through my slacks.

  Not being able to reciprocate is fucking torture. “Don’t tease me, Eva.”

  “I’m not trying to,” she says with a grin, implying the opposite. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  Alcohol and desire swirl together, rushing through my blood. Be polite. Be polite. Eva’s making that hard. Her fingers splay over my leg. “Haven’t met a girl like you, I guess.”

  Eva’s face splits with a wide smirk. “Am I your type?”

  The hand. I can’t fucking think. “You’re every guy’s type.”

  “Definitely not true, but sweet of you.” Her eyes rake me up and down. “What’s yours? Describe your perfect woman.”

  Her touch inches up my slacks, spreading its warmth higher. My breath catches. I snatch her hand from my thigh.

  I don’t know what to say.

  I know what I want to do. Drag her over my lap. Slip my hands under her dress. Taste her lips. Take her home. Feel her clench around my cock. If she weren’t so wasted, I would.

  “My dream girl is confident, I guess. She loves sex. She’s devoted to me.”

  “Oh, Bastien. That isn’t much to go on.” She grabs my tie, letting the silk slide between her fingers. “You’re supposed to do whatever I please.”

  “I’m trying to be polite, hon.”

  “Stop being so respectful and talk. Don’t give me that boss’ daughter bullshit. I want a real conversation. A connection.”

  And I want to lick your tits. “Fine. I’ll try again.”

  “And this time tell me the truth,” she says.

  I mull the question. What answer should I give her? “My perfect woman loves blowjobs.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on.”

  “You said to be honest.” I smirk at her. “I told you one thing. Now it’s your turn.”

  Eva grins. “He has to be a family man.”

  “Yeah, that’s important. She has to be a good mother.”

  Eva’s lipstick smears the paper umbrella as she stares at me, openmouthed. “You want kids?” she says quietly.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Grief shines in her eyes. “Me too. I was supposed to build a life—husband, kids, a family.” Hurt grows in her voice. “It keeps getting taken away from me.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I mean it.

  The playful energy between us disappears like smoke. I take Eva’s hand, and she stares at me, desperately unhappy. I expect her to tell me to fuck off. Instead she holds tight as if she craves my touch.

  Don’t go there. “You’ll find another man.”

  “Yeah, right.” Her tone is dismissive, but she clings to the first honest words I’ve said in months.

  “It’ll happen. I promise. You won’t spend the rest of your days alone.”

  “How? I can’t date anyone. As soon as they realize who my father is, they’re gone.”

  I let that roll through my head. “Why not just leave?

  “My dad’s sick. I couldn’t do that.” Her eyes glaze over with pain. “There’s no easy way out of this world, Bastien. I have to make do with what I have.”

  “I get it.”

  Eva’s smile flattens. “Sure.”

  “I know what it’s like to want someone I can’t have.”

  You shouldn’t have said that.

  She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the opportunity to ask questions. I unlink my hand from hers and stand. “We should go. It’s late.”

  Mutinous, she glares at me. “Only eight-thirty.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve had enough for tonight.”

  Eva knows to obey me when I have an edge in my voice. Sighing, she slides from the stool. She takes a step forward, stumbles. I grab her before she falls. She giggles into my chest.

  I grasp her chin, searching her bloodshot gaze. “Eva, how many did you really have?”

  “I-I lost count,” she sighs. “You have lovely eyes.”

  “So do you, beautiful.” She’s still wasted. Vito will be pissed. “Let’s go.”

  Eva won’t move. She slides her arms inside my jacket, encircling my waist. I hold her, her warmth burning through the holes in the lace. She moves. Her hips rub against my cock.

  “I like you, Bastien.”

  God. This is not the shit I need to hear. Blood roars in my ear. “Babe, you’re drunk. You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  There’s a reason I keep pushing her away, besides the fact she’s tripping over herself. A reason that shrinks into a feeble whisper the more she throws herself at me. Eva laughs as I grab her arm, guiding her outside. I lead her from the crowd at the door and down the street where there’s privacy. She buries her face in my neck. Her breath h
isses across my throat.

  “I know what I want,” Eva says. “Fun.”

  My mouth goes dry. “You’re playing a dangerous game, drunk girl.”

  “I am not!”

  “Don’t think, just answer. What’s ten times six?”

  She blinks. “What?”

  “Exactly,” I say. “Come on.”

  We walk along the busy sidewalk packed with couples ready for a night out. My Audi is parked around the corner, but first I haul Eva into the nearest convenience store and buy a giant water bottle. I press it into her hands. “Drink this or your dad will kill me.”

  She uncaps the lid and misses her mouth. Guess her depth perception is shot. “Damn it. I swear to God I’m not tipsy.”

  “I’ll repeat what you said when you’re sober. I want that bottle gone by the time we get to your house.”

  “So bossy.” She drinks, wiping the sheen of moisture off her lips. “Do your worst. I remember everything and I don’t care.”

  Yeah, yeah.

  It could be a lot worse. She could be a mean drunk. Instead she’s hot for me, which digs a knife in my chest as much as it thrills me. Even with a quarter of the water gone her cheeks go pink when I smile at her.

  She slides into the car, her dress hiked halfway up her thighs. I get into the driver’s seat. I force my gaze to stay on the road as blood rushes to my cock. The twenty-minute drive to her dad’s house is quiet, but I feel her eyes. She’s like a furnace heating my skin. It’s nine when I pull onto her street and park in the driveway. The boss’ house is a six-bedroom McMansion falling apart from neglect.