Deeper [The Underground 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  The Underground 3

  Deeper

  When Stella Vincent's father gambles away her childhood home, it is up to her to get it back, but when she finally meets the man who holds the deed, she realizes just how dangerous he really is. He is tall, dark, and gorgeous, and so very bad for her.

  Tate Wessen knows he is dangerous, and he counts on others realizing the same thing in order for him get what he wants. Running an illegal underground fight club isn't the worst he has ever done.

  When Stella walks into his office the attraction is instant. She'll do anything to get her father's house back, and he knows that he can use this to his advantage. What he offers her is very simple. She must submit her body to him for the next two weeks. After that her father's debt is absolved.

  The only problem is he finds himself falling hard for the woman who was only supposed to warm his bed.

  Genre: Contemporary

  Length: 49,027 words

  DEEPER

  The Underground 3

  Jenika Snow

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  DEEPER

  Copyright © 2013 by Jenika Snow

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-999-8

  First E-book Publication: May 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Deeper by Jenika Snow from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Jenika Snow’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Snow’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This is dedicated to everyone who gave me their encouragement and support. You have no idea how much it means to me to know you're in my corner.

  DEEPER

  The Underground 3

  JENIKA SNOW

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  When Stella prayed for a way out of her blind date, she wasn’t talking about picking up her drunk father, once again. The drive to the Horseshoe, the new casino that just opened up off of Sunset and Broadview, was slow going given the fact it was a Saturday night and prime time for the partiers to be out.

  When she pulled up to the curb, a line of people wrapped around the building. The casino had only been open for a few months, but every day she drove by there was always a line. There was no disputing the fact that the casino increased the revenue in their town, but there was a part of her that loathed the idea of it being built just three blocks from her apartment building. It also didn’t help her disposition that her once-recovering addict of a father had fallen off…or gotten on the wagon, whatever the hell the saying was, and could be found at either the casino or the twenty-four-hour bar.

  It didn’t take long for her to spot her father, seeing as he was sandwiched between two burly-looking men in suit jackets and white tees underneath. The men had a hand under each of her dad’s arms, whether it was to support his drunken ass or keep him from running off was still left to be decided, but Stella knew it was probably a little bit of both.

  The burly guys saw her get out of her car and made their way toward her, her father in tow. Each time she had to pick up Henry Vincent it was always the same scene. Her father had been a great man at one time, a celebrated contractor that built many of the homes in their town, but when her mother died of breast cancer when she was twelve that was when Henry Vincent’s life went down the drain to addiction. Now, ten years later, Stella was still making sure he was home and in bed, just to wake up the next morning to start the whole vicious cycle again. Oh, he had tried rehab, had even been sober for a year, but there was always something that life threw at him that would make him pick up the bottle.

  It didn’t matter what Stella told him. She had learned that early on, because when Henry wanted something there wasn’t anything or anyone that could stop him. His years building houses had made him a big man, and that and all of his pent-up emotions from her mother passing made him a scary man at times. There was never any abuse, but she had walked in on enough of his bar fights to know how that aggression could become flying fists at the drop of a hat.

  The men brought her father right up to the passenger door and she opened it while they folded him in. He groaned and grunted and the smell of liquor that came from him was so strong she feared she might get drunk just from being in the same vehicle with him.

  “Um, thanks.” It was always awkward talking to the men that had to drag her father to her car. She shut the door and started rounding the front bumper when one of the men’s deep voices stopped her.

  “Mr. Wessen would like a word with you, Miss Vincent.” They came closer to her and she wondered if they would take her to him by force. They certainly were big enough to.

  “Okay, but can I maybe come back tomorrow? I can’t just leave my father in the car passed out.”

  “Not to worry, ma’am.” The one with a bald head and dark trimmed goatee took a step toward the passenger door. “While you are speaking with Mr. Wessen I have been instructed to wait here. I’ll keep an eye on your father and belongings.”

  A glance at her father showed he was blissfully unaware of the trouble she was no doubt in because of him. She could only imagine what the owner of the majority of the prop
erties in their town wanted to speak to her about. “Okay.” She was led through the main doors of the casino and instantly the sound of slot machines and bells ringing surrounded her. The vestibule was gorgeous with white marble and an impressive crystal chandelier hanging from the cathedral-style ceiling. If she was being honest, the casino looked a little out of place in their small town, but since opening it had become an instant attraction.

  The main part of the casino was straight ahead, but she was led to the left, down a long hallway with bright red carpet with a gold ivy pattern inlaid through it. The walls were a muted cream, but the bland color didn’t take away from the fact that it was clearly expensively decorated. Double doors stood to her right, the wood dark and glossy. Her escort rapped on the door twice before a deep voice called for them to enter from the other side. She expected him to walk in first, but he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. For some reason the hair on her arms stood up and her heart pounded hard. There were a lot of reasons why she was nervous, but the main reason was sitting behind a chrome and glass desk looking at her like he could see every one of her secrets.

  He crooked his finger for her to enter further. The door shut firmly behind her and it was like the air in the room shot up ten degrees. Palms sweaty and mouth gone dry, Stella sat in the chair in front of his desk. He held a phone to his ear and she tried not to take note of his presence, but there was no denying that trying to ignore anything about Tate Wessen was a lost cause.

  “I am not going to argue this, McIntyre. You will fix those numbers and redistribute or I will take my business elsewhere.” A beat of silence passed and then he said in a deadly calm voice, “Just make it happen.” When he hung up the phone he stared at her for a suspended moment. The tension started to escalate and Stella found herself shifting in her seat.

  He steepled his fingers in front of her, his amber-colored eyes watching her intently. Was she supposed to say something? If he expected that he was going to be waiting for like…ever.

  “Miss Vincent, thank you for speaking with me on such short notice.” When he leaned back in his seat the leather creaked from his weight. Like she really had a choice in the matter. She wisely kept that to herself, though. “Do you know why I asked to speak with you this evening?” The way he watched her made her feel naked despite the cotton skirt and white blouse she wore. She ran her palms over her thighs, thankful the black material would hide the sweat that was rapidly forming on her palms.

  “I’m sure it has something to do with my father.” She wanted to say she would kill her dad for putting her in this situation, but the truth was Henry Vincent was a shell of a man now. There was nothing that she could say or do that would make him the dad she remembered from her childhood. She had tried, desperately.

  He started loosening his tie until he could undo the first few buttons of his crisp gray shirt. His black tie hung lopsided and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The man in front of her was always in control. But seeing his attire slightly disheveled made him seem more…human and less invincible.

  “I’m afraid it does have to do with your father.” He pushed away from his desk and stood. “Would you like something to drink, Miss Vincent?” She followed his movements to the bar on the far side of the wall.

  “No thank you, Mr. Wessen.”

  The click of ice dropping into a glass filled the room. “Please, call me Tate.”

  She assumed the easygoing smile he gave her was no doubt an attempt to make her feel comfortable or lessen the blow he was about to deliver. He didn’t go back behind his desk, instead sitting on the edge of it, facing her. She was acutely aware of how close he was. The smell of his cologne filled her nose. It smelled rich, masculine, and very expensive. When sitting this close to him she felt extremely feminine. Tate Wessen was a large man, with wide shoulders and massive arms. The shirt he wore stretched across his broad chest, the muscles underneath the material obscenely evident. It was plainly obvious Mr. Wessen worked out. A lot.

  Her gaze dropped to his hand, the one that held the square-cut tumbler filled with caramel-colored liquid. He brought the glass to his lips, his long fingers encompassing the perimeter. When he took a deep drink, she watched his throat work as he swallowed. She let her eyes travel up his tanned, thick throat, over his square jaw and full lips, across the sharp angles of his cheeks, and finally settled on his eyes. The way he watched her let her know he was very aware of the way she had been looking at him. Her cheeks heated to the point she knew they had to be red as tomatoes. Clearing her throat just proved to make her even more uncomfortable because it caused Tate to smirk at her.

  “Has my father done something wrong, Mr. Wessen?” She desperately wanted to change the subject because his gaze was too intent, too knowing. Just like a light switch turning off, a composed mask slid over Tate’s face. He slid off the desk and made his way back to his chair behind the desk.

  “I’m afraid your father is in quite a bit of trouble, Miss Vincent.”

  “What kind of trouble, Mr. Wessen?”

  He still gripped his tumbler, his fingers running up and down the smooth glass as he watched her. “I insist you call me Tate, Stella.” He smiled but it seemed anything but friendly. It reminded her of a predator in the jungle, grinning right before it pounced on its prey. “I can call you Stella, right?”

  Like she was going to tell a man like him no. She knew all about him, knew that he owned the majority of their town, that he was ridiculously wealthy, and that anyone that was smart knew to stay away from him because he was dangerous. She knew all of this, especially the last part, yet here she was, like a damn fool, sizing him up like she wanted to take him out on a freaking date. Of course, if she was being brutally honest with herself, it wasn’t a date she was imagining doing with Tate. Her cheeks heated at the image that slammed into her mind.

  Her naked, spread out on his bed. Tate pressing all those hard, defined muscles into her. The feel of his cock, which she had no doubt was just as impressive as the rest of him, brushing against the most sensitive part of her body. God, she was so aroused, and what a fucked-up time to let her libido take control.

  She needed to stop thinking about ridiculous and dangerous things, especially when they concerned Tate Wessen. “Of course, Mr…Tate.” His smile was all straight white teeth. Oh yes, Tate Wessen was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

  Chapter Two

  She was nervous as hell, but that was no surprise because anyone in her position usually was. Tate leaned back in his seat, his fingers wrapped around his drink as he rested it on his thigh. When he invited people into any of his offices it usually wasn’t on the best of terms, and tonight wasn’t any different. It was a hell of a shame he had to unload her father’s bullshit on her because the woman in front of him was a fine piece of ass. He knew all about Stella Vincent, knew that she lived in the Fallencrest apartments off of Harris Ave. It was his job to keep tabs on the people, and anyone connected to them, that owed him money, and Henry Vincent owed him a shit ton of money.

  “Your father is in a bit of a situation, Stella.” Her little white teeth pulled her bottom lip in and bit it nervously. He could practically hear the beat of her heart as it thundered in her chest. And what a fine chest it was. His gaze dropped down to her blouse, her breasts rising and falling against the material. Lifting his gaze to hers, he knew she had caught him staring, but he didn’t give a fuck. Tate didn’t apologize for the way he was. He wouldn’t be where he was in life if he had.

  “He owes me quite a bit of money.” He took another drink and watched her over the rim. “I’m sure you’re aware of your father’s drinking and gambling problem, Stella?” She swallowed and he heard it from where he sat.

  “How much does he owe you?” Her voice caught and he could tell she wasn’t surprised at the news, but then again she had been picking up his ass from his businesses for far too long for her not to have an inkling of what type of man he really was.

  He didn’t
mean to leave her hanging, but as he watched her, saw the play of emotions filter across her face, he found himself lost in her. Strange reaction for him, and frankly, one he didn’t care for. He wasn’t the type of man to do dinner and flowers.

  The longer he watched her the more he found himself wanting her. Her tits were large and her nipples were becoming hard. He was blatantly staring at her, not giving a shit if she realized it or not. Was his gaze affecting her that much?

  “Mr. Wessen?”

  Lifting his gaze from her breasts, he knew that he wanted her. Bad. Of course it wasn’t wise to mix business with pleasure.

  He wanted her to say his name, his first name. His business associates and the people that were scared of him called him Mr. Wessen. For some stupid reason, Tate wanted his name to fall from her lips. He could almost picture her moaning it in the dim light while he fucked her.

  Had he ever wanted a woman this much?

  “Your father owes me twenty-five thousand dollars, Miss Vincent.” It would do him well to keep her at a distance. The blush that had once covered her cheeks vanished as she turned pale. The color drained from her face and her eyes widened. Just looking at her, even the shocked look on her face had his dick rock hard. He was a fucking dirty bastard for wanting between her thighs. But being a bastard had worked out well for him in his life, and he wasn’t about to change that.

  “Oh, God.” She wiped a bead of sweat that formed on her forehead and looked around the room. Was she looking for an escape route? If she knew anything about him she knew he didn’t fuck around when it came to his money.