Come and get me?

I chuckle to myself.

Elena looks like the purest, most innocent angel that exists, but the more I get to know her, the more I suspect there’s something more hiding beneath the placid surface.

I’m enjoying this a little more than I’d like. Normally, I prefer to keep things either strictly business or strictly personal. That’s why I never use my own supplies or indulge in drugs at all.

This whole Elena thing is supposed to be all about business, but the lines are starting to blur together.

Just don’t get the feels, I tell myself. Fun is fine. Hell, Enzo probably had fun himself when he destroyed my parents and killed them.

As that familiar heat burns in my chest, I grab my keys and walk out of my apartment.

Yes. My anger will be my salvation. Remember why I’m doing this. It’ll keep me safe from making deadly mistakes, like falling for the enemy’s daughter.

I get on my bike and turn on the engine.

I’m coming to get you, Elena. And once I do, there’s no escape.

* * *

“Hello, princess.” I take Elena’s hand and kiss the back of it. She smells like vanilla and cream.

She smiles and her cheeks fill with color, almost matching the red, flimsy dress she’s wearing underneath her black, studded jacket. “Hi, Damon.”

Precious. She’s adorable.

There’s something morbidly attractive about ruining something beautiful. I’ll enjoy destroying her.

I hand her the helmet. “So, why the airport?”

She hesitates, her fingers fumbling with the chin strap of the helmet. “I, uh, told my parents I was going on a business trip.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You continue to surprise me, princess. So, they bought it?”

“Yeah.” The flash of guilt in her green eyes is unmistakable. She’s telling the truth.

“You’re not as innocent as you look, Elena Guerriero.”

A naughty smile plays on her lips. “That’s right. You should be careful.”

“I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you.” I reach out and pull her close, then smile as I gaze into her eyes. I know girls dig this shit.

When she shyly looks up at me from underneath her thick lashes, I take the chin strap of her helmet and snap it on for her, letting my fingers graze and linger on her skin.

“Thank you,” Elena says softly. She’s fucking cute when she gets embarrassed.

“Ready to go?” I ask, patting the seat behind me, inviting her onto my bike.

“Yeah. Just stop in about an hour so I can quickly text my mom.”

“Why is that?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

Enzo doesn’t know his daughter is with me, right? That’s a pretty essential part of the plan. It’s supposed to buy me some time while I get all my ducks in a row.

“Oh, I told her I’d text her when I board the plane.’” Elena makes air quotes with her fingers. “I also have to tell her when I arrive at the destination.”

“Where is that?”

“Vancouver.” Elena climbs onto my bike, spreading her legs. I can’t help but stare at the smooth, creamy skin above her boots that’s revealed when the hem of her dress rides up.

She’s so light I barely need to do anything to maintain my balance. She’ll be so fun to throw around and manhandle in bed.

“How long is that from here?” I ask, forcing myself to focus on the logistics of my plan.

“Two hours and fifteen minutes exactly. So, after the initial text about having boarded the plane, I have to call her again three hours later.”

“Three hours?”

“Yeah. I need to get through immigration and claim my luggage.”

I let out an impressed whistle. “You’ve got everything under control.”

“Attention to detail is really important in my job.” Elena zips up her jacket.

“As the daughter of a mafia boss?” I tease her.

Elena lightly hits my back. “As a tax consultant. I have a real job, you know.”

“Sorry. When I hear the words ‘tax consultant,’ I think of a middle-aged guy with a balding head and a protruding belly.”

“You’ve just described my boss pretty accurately.” Elena laughs. “So, where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want to go?” I ask.

I know where I want to go. I was planning to take her straight to my apartment where I can tear her clothes off, spread her legs, and bury myself balls-deep inside her. But her little schedule to call her mom is putting a wrench in my plan.

Elena pauses to think. “Take me anywhere. I’d never been on a bike before you took me to the diner, so even just a ride around the city sounds exciting.”

“Hold on tight.”

Elena squeals as I take her speeding along the highways, swerving between the cars.

At least she’s easy to please. Seeing as she’s a spoiled mafia princess, I thought she’d want to be taken to some fancy brunch place with a name I can’t pronounce.

She wraps her arms tightly around my waist. At a traffic light, I jerk the bike to a stop so she’s thrown forward and her tits squish against my back. They feel great. I’d bet they’ll feel even better when I grab them with my hands.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“No. I’ve had breakfast.”

I check the time on my watch. “Better make a stop soon anyway. It’s almost one hour since I picked you up.”

“Okay,” Elena says as the light turns green.

I drive down unfamiliar roads until I find a quiet restaurant.

I could really go for a greasy plate of breakfast from the place near my apartment, but I can’t risk going to any of my usual places because I might run into someone I know there—someone who also works for Enzo, if I get real unlucky.

Someone might recognize me too when I’m on my bike because there aren’t too many bikers in the city. But at least Elena is wearing a helmet, and it’s unlikely someone will think she’s anything other than just some random girl.

“That was a rush!” Elena exclaims as she hops off my bike and takes off her helmet.

She shakes her head to loosen up her curls, and I swear it feels like one of those slow-motion moments in cheesy movies.

Her eyes still twinkle with exhilaration as she hands the helmet back to me. She reminds me of my first rides. I could taste the freedom in the air and get high off that sensation for hours.

We enter the restaurant and take our seats at a table with an old, cracking laminate top. There are dust particles suspended in the rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows—the way they float in the air makes it feel like time has stopped.

A plump, middle-aged woman, wearing a faded floral apron, throws two laminated binders on the table and leaves without a word. It doesn’t seem like they care much about service here.

I wonder if they used to, back when that woman was younger, the print on her apron was fresh, and she had just opened the restaurant of her dreams.

After I make my order, I tell Elena, “You should call your mom now.”

She checks her phone. “I still have time.”

“This place won’t sound enough like the inside of a plane. Call her early and tell her you’re at one of the coffee shops inside the terminal, about to make your way to the gate.”

Elena stares at me. “Wow. I didn’t even think of that. You’re good.”

“Attention to detail is really important in my job,” I say, repeating her own line back to her. “You know, as a guy who works for the mafia.”

Elena laughs, and adorable dimples appear in her cheeks as she takes off her jacket and leaves it on the chair next to her.

“It’s true, though. The smallest mistake can get a guy killed,” I say.

I know the things a good girl likes, and they don’t often include good guys. There’s something self-destructive in most good girls I know—a biased sample, for sure, because not many of them associate with guys like me.

I can tell even Elena isn’t immune to that destructive force because every time I say something dangerous, her eyes flash with excitement like she can’t wait to immerse herself in my world and become a different person.

As Elena makes her phone call, she walks toward the bright window where she becomes a dark silhouette with a glowing outline. The thin fabric of her dress moves fluidly with her and lets me see her shape clearly.

That’s not the kind of outfit a girl would wear to an office, or even a business trip. Did she change before she met me at the airport? Did she think I’d like those clothes on her?

Because if she’s that good at guessing what I’m into, I might be in trouble. For fuck’s sake, just watching her stand by a bright window is making my cock twitch in my jeans.

Elena may have walked straight into my trap. Still, I can’t help but wonder if she’s laying a trap of her own.