Hitman Daddy by Aster Rae

6

Nikolai

"I expect him to come to the house next month for your cousin Michael's wedding. We'll assess him to see if he's a risk."

Anxiety thrums as I step into the cute ice cream parlor in the Bronx.

I'm not an anxious man.

I'm a hitman.

A devil who doesn't give a shit about the people he fucks with.

Anxiety isn't an emotion I experience.

I let out a snort. My present emotional state would be comical if the danger weren't so real.

Me. Nikolai Antonov. The most ruthless hitman for the Antonov crime family.

Worried about a boy I met at my nightclub.

But one look at the picture my father held up and I knew I couldn't throw Christian to the wolves.

That's the reason my heart is hammering in my chest today.

I must approach him.

I must convince him to be my fake boyfriend for my cousin Michael's wedding to save his life.

A small bell jingles as I walk in.

Christian’s wearing an apron with an ice cream cone embroidered next to his heart.

He's combed his blond hair to the side and his blue eyes sparkle in the parlor lights.

His skin is white and pale, as creamy as the delicious vanilla ice cream in the refrigerated containers.

All at once, every emotion I experienced in the club rushes back with a vengeance.

My cock turns to a fucking rod in my Giorgio Armani briefs and my heart starts hammering even harder.

I thought it would be easy waltzing in here and propositioning this perfect boy. Treat it like a business deal. Offer him five-thousand-dollars to enter into a fake relationship with me until the wedding.

But one look into his luminous eyes tells me he's too special to treat like anyone else.

This boy needs to be wooed. Hard. Now.

"Good. You're here," I growl.

Okay. That was a little intense.

What? I haven't dated in years.

Life in the Mafia means my wooing skills are rusty AF.

I clear a space on the counter and thrust my palms down as I stare into his eyes. “We need to talk."

"Oh God." Christian lets out a groan as his cheeks shade pink. "Is this about my fake ID? Because I can totally explain."

Lord Almighty, I can barely contain myself.

If I thought Christian looked good in the nightclub, up close is a sight for the gods.

A flush of pink travels up his little throat and I nearly explode when I see the rouge on his chin.

He looks like the type of sweet innocent angel I want to wrap in my scarred arms and protect from the world.

Pure. Innocent. Adorable.

Something stirs in me that I haven't felt in a long time.

Some primal instinct that makes me want to… Be his Daddy?

Focus.

"You came into my club with a fake ID and bought a drink. You put my establishment at risk. If the cops swung by for a raid, I'd lose my liquor license."

“Look,” Christian says. "I’m sorry. I was doing a social experiment with my friend to see if we could trick the bouncer into letting us in. We're twenty-two but we used fakes to see if we could sneak past the bouncer. Next time we’ll use real IDs."

I take another look at his angelic little face.

Yeah, there's no way in hell this boy is twenty-two.

"I discovered your real identity after my associate ran your ID,” I grunt. “Your name is Christian Price, you're nineteen, and you enjoy putting law-abiding business owners at risk."

"You're way off base." Christian lets out a sigh. "My friend Tristan dragged me to the club. I didn't even want to go."

Christian looks like he's about to say something else, but he nips it in the bud.

I use the silence to my advantage.

"So you agree you're not twenty-one?" I growl.

"Fine.” Christian stares at the counter. “You caught me. Are you going to arrest me now?"

This boy is too sweet to fathom.

But he's mistaken if he thinks I'm on that side of the law.

"The only type of arrest I can perform is a citizen's arrest. But seeing as you're not a clear and present danger to society I'll let that slide for now."

Christian blows out a breath of relief. "That's nice. But now I need to ask you something."

"I didn't come here to answer your questions."

"I don't care why you came here," he growls. "Why the hell did you look me up online?"

Christian's eyes meet mine. My heart stutters in my chest.

He has no idea how beautiful he is.

I hold his gaze for a moment too long until a spark erupts between us.

Christian's cheeks turn an even brighter shade of pink but he quickly looks away.

I pry my gaze away from his face and grab a free sugar cookie on the tray next to the cash. "I need the name of the man who made your fake to report him to the cops. We obviously need to improve our security measures if little brats like you can break through our systems."

Christian makes a face. "Why did you call him your bouncer? Don't act like you own him. Aren't you a security guard for Crave as well?"

"I own Crave."

It's sweet that Christian thinks I'm a security guard.

Crave is my baby. My pride and joy.

Christian's baby blue eyes bulge. "What?"

"Crave is a side project of mine."

"You own the hottest nightclub in New York?"

"The hottest LGBT nightclub in New York," I remind him. "We're expanding fast but we’re nowhere near as big as Thrust or Dirty Palm."

The Ricci family owns those two straight nightclubs.

Christian glares at me. "Why didn't you tell me that at the bar? I had no idea I was talking to the owner."

"You ran away."

He huffs. "I thought you were going to arrest me. You could’ve said you wanted the name of the man who made my fake ID."

"I'm telling you now."

This boy has a feisty side to him. I didn't expect that considering how fast he ran at the club.

But when push comes to shove, Christian prefers to fight rather than flight.

My mind races back to all the boys I used to have when I was still active in the kink community.

Did they ever put up a fight when I bossed them around?

The fire in my loins licks me harder.

Christian’s doing things to me I didn't think another man could do.

Maybe it's my father's influence or maybe it's my recent spell of chastity, but Christian's awakening things inside me I haven't felt in a long time.

I want him. In my bed. A bottle between his lips. His chest on my heart.

"Well, Tristan arranged everything and I don't want to throw his contact under the bus."

Time to play dirty.

I remove the ID from my pocket and set it on the counter. "It's illegal to possess a fake ID in this state. You'll go to prison for a long time."

"You're bluffing." Christian swats my hand away from the free cookies and glares at me.

Did he really just stop me from eating another cookie?

He's really being bratty now.

"I have contacts with detectives across the East Coast,” I bark. “They’ll lock you up and throw you into prison faster than you can say ‘buy me a drink.’”

I'm being a dick. There's no denying it.

A pang of guilt shoots across me but I remember my father's words and force it down.

Christian is a target because I approached him.

I’m doing this to protect him.

Christian lets out a snort. "Is that what you want to do? Buy me a drink?"

Yes.

God, is it fucked up that I even love the way he uses my own words against me?

This boy is a firecracker. He's not going to let me boss him around.

But I refuse to let him gain the upper hand.

"Unless I flew you to Canada — where it's legal for a nineteen-year-old to drink — I wouldn't dream of such a thing. The reason I came here today is to ask you something else altogether."

"I'm listening." Christian crosses his arms over his chest.

I glance around the shop. Even though it's empty besides Rowan, I can't afford to have anyone hear our conversation.

There's a delicious taco truck across town where we can speak without eavesdroppers.

"I'll buy you lunch for an hour of your time."

"I won't just eat anywhere."

"What about Taco Taxi?"