His Property 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 Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  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

  Epilogue

  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 Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  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 Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  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 Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  © Copyright 2018 - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18.

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  EXCLUSIVE – Baby 4 the Brothers

  Becoming Daddy

  Saving Her

  Hot Daddy

  Redemption (Sample)

  Damaged (Sample)

  About the Author

  HIS PROPERTY

  R.R. Banks

  Brutal Billionaire. Vengeful Kingpin. Fierce Protector.

  The mafia made me what I am.

  I take. I destroy. But it’s time to go legit.

  I’m the one in charge now.

  Men bow down to me.

  Women submit to me.

  Harper was supposed to be collateral.

  Now she’s my property.

  A strawberry blonde virgin with curves that could kill.

  If my enemies aren’t careful, I’ll do just that.

  They want to sell her, but I already own her.

  They said they’re coming for me.

  Well, let them come.

  I can lose my life.

  But I won’t lose her.

  When I’m through with them, they’ll wish they were dead.

  Who will still be standing when the bullets fall?

  Chapter One

  Rob

  Los Angeles

  The car pulls to a stop and Miguel Nunez, my driver and one of the two bodyguards I'd brought along with me, lets me out of the back of the SUV. I step onto the curb and look around at the dirty, dingy neighborhood. Large apartment buildings looked more derelict than inhabitable, with all the broken windows, broken security bars, graffiti, and holes in the walls.

  In my well-tailored designer suit, I stand out in this place like a sore thumb. I see people on their porches staring at me – some curiously, some with open hostility. I do my best to ignore them and shut them out. They don't interest me and aren't why I'm here.

  There are small houses mixed in with the apartment buildings – but they look just as shabby. Lawns, if they have them at all, are overgrown with what's now, dry, dead grass. There are rusted out cars on blocks in every other driveway it seems, and large appliances, like refrigerators, sit on the sidewalks.

  The area bills itself as a working-class neighborhood but given the amount of poverty I see around me, I doubt there's a lot of work being done in the area. At leas
t, legal work. I have no doubt that if I want drugs of any flavor, I can find them in this neighborhood.

  The darkness of night might be able to mask some of the warts and scars of this neighborhood, but standing here in broad daylight seems to amplify them.

  “You okay, boss?” Miguel asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, fine,” I reply. “I was just thinking that this neighborhood could use a remodel.”

  “That's a nice way to put it,” Miguel says. “I grew up around here and can tell you the whole area needs to be burned to the ground. The trash and the thugs need to be driven out and this place needs a complete do-over.”

  “I didn't know you were a local boy,” I say.

  He nods. “Not somethin' I'm proud of.”

  I step up and look Miguel in the eye. He's one of the first people I hired when I came to LA, and at twenty-eight years old, he's seen and done a lot. Grew up rough and then did a stint in the military that included combat overseas. He's my right hand. My most trusted lieutenant. He's tough and rugged, knows how to handle himself in a fight, speaks plainly, and never fails to give it to me straight. It's something I appreciate about him.

  Miguel is a good man and I rely on him for a lot. He never lets me down.

  “Nothing you need to be ashamed of either,” I say.

  He looks at me and even though he tries to hide it, I can see that look in his eye. Yeah, that's easy for me to say, he's undoubtedly thinking. I grew up filthy rich. A child of privilege who wanted for nothing. I didn't grow up in a neighborhood that literally stinks of poverty, filth, and desperation.

  No, I can't relate. But I can at least try to empathize with him. I see something in his face though and can tell that being in the area bothers him. It's like me seeing where he came from is a source of embarrassment for him or something.

  Maybe it's best to do what we came here to do and get out of here. I clap him on the shoulder and give him a nod.

  “Let's get this done,” I say.

  My other guard, Don, holds the door of the building open and I follow Miguel through it. Don's close behind as we walk down a hallway that's got cracks in the walls, light fixtures that are busted, graffiti and trash everywhere. Not that I expected any less, but it's as run down and trashy on the inside as it is on the outside.

  Which brings a very relevant question to my mind.

  “How in the hell did this clown get fifty grand in debt to me?” I ask.

  “Likes to gamble,” Miguel says. “Unfortunately for him, he's not very good at it.”

  This is one of the aspects of the job I hate the most – debt collection. It's a holdover from when my father ran the family business and unfortunately, a necessary evil at the moment. Once I have my casinos built, this will cease to be a problem. Until then though, I have to rely on my army of bookies and my betting websites to generate revenue.

  Though I'd prefer going online only and utilize just the betting websites, not everybody is that tech savvy. There are a lot of folks out there with those old-school sensibilities and bookies bring in a lot of money. And if I want to build the Rossi family empire that I envision, I'm going to need to keep the fountains of cash flowing.

  “This is it,” Miguel says, stopping at a door.

  I sigh and nod. Miguel knocks loudly on the door and we wait. The music inside is loud and I can definitely smell pot in the air. When Miguel knocks again – a little harder this time – I hear a glass break and a woman giggle inside.

  “This is ridiculous,” I say.

  Reaching down, I turn the doorknob and find that it's unlocked. Miguel quickly draws his gun and steps between the door and me, pushing his way into the apartment first. Don is right beside me, his gun drawn, and his face pinched with tension as we step inside. He closes the door, holding his gun down at his side.

  I look around the place and almost gag at the condition. Old pizza boxes are everywhere – some of them still containing moldy, half-eaten slices. Dirty dishes cover every conceivable surface and there is trash everywhere. Something crunches beneath my feet and I see that I'm standing on an open box of cereal – and watch several large cockroaches scurry out and away, further into the mess.

  A man and a woman, in nothing but their underwear, are sitting on a couch so dirty and stained, I can't tell you what the original color was. He's got a large, protruding belly, dark, greasy hair, pale skin, and an oddly shaped nose that gives him a porcine look. The woman is skeletal with dry, dirty hair, and judging by the sores around her mouth, a pretty bad meth habit.

  When we walk in, she has her hand in his boxers, giving him a furious handjob. And when she sees us, she smiles a nearly toothless smile. Definitely meth. Miguel walks over and viciously yanks the cord for the stereo out of the wall, letting a blissful silence descend over the room.

  The fat man on the couch squirms away from the woman, yanking her hand out of his shorts and pushing her away. She looks at him as if she's offended, but then spots the joint on the coffee table, looking at it like it's some lost treasure before she snaps it up and happily goes back to puffing away.

  The man's eyes are wide, and he starts to breathe heavily – and not from the handjob. It's because I see the light of recognition in his eyes. He knows exactly who I am and what I'm there for.

  “Be with you boys in a second,” she says, clearly not noticing the two large men with guns drawn standing in the trash heap she calls a living room. “Twenty bucks a tug. Have your cash ready.”

  “Charming,” I say. “But I'm going to have to take a pass. Don? Miguel? We've got a few minutes if you care to spend a little cash?”

  “No, sir,” Don says.

  “Not without a tetanus shot, boss,” Miguel chimes in.

  I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “Perhaps, next time.”

  I turn and look at the man on the couch, giving him a slow, predatory smile. He opens his mouth to speak and I hold up a finger and shake my head, silencing him before he can start babbling. I have to remind myself that I'm playing a part. That this really isn't me. This is my job, and this is simply a role I'm playing.

  I have to remind myself because sometimes, that line blurs and it seems like a little bit more than just a part I'm playing. Like maybe, I'm more like my father than I care to admit.

  “Do you know who I am?” I ask.

  The man nods. “Rossi,” he says. “R - Roberto Rossi.”

  “Correct,” I say. “And do you know why my associates and I are here?”

  The man clears his throat, sweat freely running down his greasy face. He stammers and sputters, obviously nervous – obviously looking for an angle he can exploit to try and talk his way out of his predicament.

  “Sit?” he asks. “W – would you like to have a seat?”

  I look around the filthy apartment, feeling nothing but disgust. “No,” I say. “I can't think of anything I'd like less, actually. What I do want though, is the fifty grand you owe me.”

  “Yeah, I – I know,” the guy stammers. “But there was a pro –”

  “The problem is, that you have a nasty habit of picking the teams that lose,” I say, my voice cold. “And because you suck so very much at picking winners, you're now into me for fifty grand. Fifty thousand dollars I very much want back.”

  “I – I don't have it,” he says, his eyes growing so wide I think they might actually pop out of his head.

  “Well, that's a problem then,” I say. “A very big problem, in fact.”

  The man looks from me to the woman on the end of the couch. She's sitting back, eyes closed, completely oblivious to everything but the joint she's merrily puffing away on. I see the wheels turning in his head and he smiles like he's just thought of the greatest idea ever.

  “Tell you what,” the man says. “W – we can work out some sort of alternative arrangement. Yeah. We can do that. How about Annie here blows you or your guys whenever you want? Yeah. You can also screw her if you want. Say, fifty bucks a pop? We can work down the debt that way? What do you think?”

  I glance over at Miguel who has an expression on his face that looks as disgusted as I feel.

  “Yeah, that's not going to work,” I say. “I'd be more likely to ask you to make me dinner here than accept that offer.”

  “C'mon, fellas,” he says. “You ain't even tried her out yet. She gives the best blowjobs around, I'm tellin' ya. She'll get your rocks off for ya in thirty seconds flat. Take her for a test spin. First one's on me.”

  “I ain't gonna blow him,” Annie says, coming out of her stupor – sort of. “He ain't my type.”

  “You're gonna do what I tell you to do, bitch,” the man snaps. “Now, shut up.”

  “You shouldn't be so disrespectful,” I say. “Trust me, you really, really shouldn't be so disrespectful. She's a lady. Treat her like one.”