Say Daddy A Mafia Billionaire Romance - Shanna Handel Page 0,2

though we are the only two around, “She says... Gotcha.”

I laugh at the silly message. “I guess Charlotte pulled a few strings for me with Rockland?”

Charlie nods eagerly, excited to be in on the delivery. “Yes. She felt terrible about you being fired because of her. She wanted to be sure Rockland would find you a job somewhere—and these are her words, not mine—somewhere that you’d still have access to Bachman man meat, in the hopes that with a bit of luck maybe you’ll be neighbors one day.”

I allow myself to picture it, me and Charlotte with the other Beauties, visiting one another in the spacious row homes that line the perfectly manicured streets of their secret world. It’s a world within a world, hidden behind the walls of the shops they own.

I breathe the name like a prayer. “The Village.”

“Isn’t a home in the Village the ultimate goal of every girl in New York?” Charlie asks.

“Every girl that’s got the Bachman bug running through her blood,” I say.

She laughs. “The Bachman bug—I like that. I had it once and now I’m one of the lucky ones.”

I admit, “I may have my own case.”

A bad one.

On the scale of severity, I think my case might be dire. The Bachman bug runs strong through my veins, my blood coursing with desire for camaraderie, couture, and class.

My heart beats to the steady hymn, Bachman Beauty, Bachman Beauty.

My case is special, different from those of the other, desperate girls like me, the ones that want in those walls more than they want breath in their lungs.

There’s one strange thing setting me apart.

I don’t want the man.

I’ve seen my mother trudge her way through too many assholes to desire one of my own.

In my experience, love is for fools. Play with the fires of the heart and you’re going to get a third-degree burn.

I don’t want to fall in love.

And marriage—I wish there was a way to infiltrate the Bachmans without it. I’ll play the part to get what I want but it’s not the wedding I’m after.

Or the money.

Or the prestige that comes with being a member of the world’s most powerful mafia.

There is only one reason I want to be a Bachman.

I simply long to be a Beauty.

Just watching those lucky women walk by the store makes an aching loneliness throb deep within my chest. They breeze by my window in flocks, shopping bags by their sides, smiles on their faces. Arms slung around shoulders. They are so happy, so confident in one another’s company that I can’t help but picture myself among them.

They come into the jewelers together, huddled in little packs, laughing and giggling over silly inside jokes. They smile at me, speak politely, ask how my day is going. Then turn their attentions back within their tribe, holding earrings up to each other’s lobes, complimenting one another’s purchases.

They are the ultimate picture of a strong woman. Once you are in their fold, you are instantly accepted as one of them.

For life.

There is no room for jealousy between them; they’re too close to make room for the ugly green-eyed monster to squeeze into their ranks.

Growing up, I always had a close circle of girlfriends. We keep in touch, but life has scattered us our separate ways. I miss that closeness you can only have in the presence of your very best girls.

My mother was indifferent toward me, often leaving me with a babysitter so she could go out with her latest man. I think she loved me, at least until I grew curves and her boyfriends suddenly began giving me their unwanted attentions.

Which sparked a gross jealousy in her. No mother should envy her daughter in that way.

To this day I still think the main reason that she kicked me out at eighteen was because she didn’t want any competition around. Not that I tried to compete, even for a second.

I never wanted what she had.

If I ever have a daughter, I promise myself things will be different. That I will adore her, love her, and above all else, protect her. No man will ever come between us.

The Bachmans value their strong family ties above all else. And the women are the ties that bind. I crave their lives and the fierce and total loyalty and devotion they offer one another.

The camaraderie of these women, to belong to their tight-knit pack is my only dream. And I know in order to get what I want, I must catch a Bachman