His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  He shakes his head, his face broadening with a wide smile as he bounces the baby in his arms.

  “Da!”

  “I knew the moment I saw him.”

  “Thane, what does this mean for Daniel? Now that he’s confirmed as your son, what happens?”

  I get the sense that he’s giving me a measured response.

  “He needs to be blessed as soon as possible.”

  I grind my teeth together. “Yeah, you said that. What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You’ll see,” he says maddeningly.

  “Will it hurt him?”

  “Of course not. It’s a blessing. My mom will be there, and my sister, too. Violet with her husband, you met her already.”

  Oh yeah, I think as a surge of bile fills my mouth. Her.

  “I don’t like her.”

  His eyes roll at me. “Big surprise.”

  “She touched my baby without my permission.”

  “I gave her my permission.”

  Yours doesn’t count, I want to tell him, but I know that’s a bitchy thing to say. There’s probably nothing wrong with that woman, but I can’t help but feel a seething dislike when I think about the shine she took to my baby.

  You’re being fucking crazy.

  “What’s the purpose of this blessing thing?”

  “It’s tradition. All male children born in the syndicate get blessed. It makes them a member for life.”

  “You don’t get to do that—you don’t get to decide for him what he wants to be!”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me! I’m his mother, and I don’t want him in this life!”

  The apartment rings with my voice for a few seconds as Thane’s face turns sour.

  “My brothers and father are dead.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  “I need this. Don’t you get it?” he says in a harsh whisper, trying not to upset the baby clinging to his neck.

  Jesus Christ, he looks scary.

  “I didn’t know what happened.”

  “I didn’t pick this life for myself either, but I was born into it and I will be damned if I let my family’s name die with me.”

  * * *

  I can’t believe I’m back in this fucking place.

  Candles flicker in the hollowed out holes in the rough, black basalt walls, which almost look like they’re shimmering. It’s cold and strangely moist, just like a cave. There’s only room for about six rows of pews, which seems odd considering the size of this place. I sit in the first one, next to his family. They seem determined to ignore me for the time being, which is fine by me.

  What happened two years ago was so insane, so out of place in modern society that I honestly forgot about my forced marriage. I convinced myself that it wasn’t as bad as I remembered, which I couldn’t make sense of anyway. How could this place with all its ancient traditions possibly exist in the bowels of San Francisco? Is it really surprising that a decades old community would have some bizarre traditions? Not really, but I would have never expected it here. People have riots over retailers trying to sneak in non-organic produce. A patriarchal society like this would have all the social justice warriors up in arms if they knew it existed. As much as I want to close my eyes and pretend the syndicate doesn’t exist, I’m back in this forsaken place, watching a Dragon priest, for lack of a better word, bless my son.

  Thane stands near the altar with the Dragon priest, who is the same bastard who married us two years ago. I was hoping he died, but no such luck.

  It’s hard not to admire Thane even when I’m pissed at him. I’d forgotten how well he wore a suit. It’s ink-black, the blood-red shirt the only hint of color as he carries Daniel in his arms, who wears a white robe with lace. The priest grabs a chalice and pours a burgundy-red liquid in a large, brass basin, which is exactly like the ones used for baptisms. Thane lowers our son’s head into the basin and the priest dips his hand in the wine, pouring it over his head. The chapel echoes with Latin phrases, which everyone seems to speak fluently or at least have the passages memorized. My hands tighten into fists on my knees as I watch them complete the ceremony. A bolt of anxiety hits my chest as the priest lays his hand on my son’s head.

  This is so fucked up.

  Blood pounds in my veins as I watch them conscript my son to a lifetime of service to this place. He could’ve been anything in the world until now. He’ll always be a Dragon, just another foot soldier for the syndicate to cause waves of misery wherever he goes. Then Thane joins me at the pew and sits down next to me, and my eyes burn with hot rage. I want to slap the proud smile off his face.

  If he thinks I’m going to lay back and let him breed me like a brood mare, he’s dead wrong. My first priority is to my son, not to Thane or this fucking place.

  “Mama!”

  Daniel reaches out for me with his chubby little hands, and Thane’s arms lift to gently lower him in mine. I cradle him against my chest as Thane’s arms linger around me. It’s irritatingly comfortable. He palms my shoulder, squeezing it hard as he plants a kiss on my head, beaming at me as though he’s proud of me. The rage in my chest is punctured by his shining admiration.

  I don’t like the red stain on Daniel’s forehead, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. The priest stands in front of the altar, talking about how “precious” new life is and how our service to God balances with our duty to the syndicate.

  A man’s voice suddenly erupts into rude laughter behind us. I look around wildly, and I see a smiling blond man leaning against the wall. He shakes his head and walks away.

  The priest continues to talk, uninterrupted in his speech. The crowd looks normal to me, albeit a bit thin. The only man who doesn’t seem like he’s having a good time stands near the back, sneering openly at the priest.

  I can’t take it in. There’s no escape from here, no way to shield my son from these lunatics. I keep looking anyway, but all it takes is a glimpse at someone’s hip, the gun strapped to his waist, for me to abandon all plans of escape.

  You think these people are going to just let you slip by like last time? He just got his wife back. You’re not going anywhere for a long time. There’s nothing you can do. Just accept it.

  How am I supposed to accept this?

  Everyone stands up, talking amongst themselves. Behind the crowd of people shuffling toward the exit, I catch a glimpse of the sneering man again. He gives one last disdainful look at the crowd, and then his eyes sweep over me. They linger for a moment, and then he turns around and leaves. The weird feeling from his stare doesn’t quite leave me when Thane prods my shoulder and motions that I should get up. He walks toward a crowd of men and women standing in the middle of the aisle, talking.

  A tall older woman with striking looks and fine-boned, elfin features glows at Thane as I approach with the baby.

  “Hi Mom. This is my little boy.”

  Her face goes through transports of delight, her jewel-black eyes so like Thane’s shining in the low light. Thane gives me a nod.

  Great. I can’t refuse his mother.

  I hold Daniel out, and her thin arms slide under his body to take him from my arms.

  “Look at how beautiful he is.”

  Thane nudges between my shoulders, and I force a smile on my face as his mother touches my baby’s cheeks and laughs at his babbles. I’m taken aback by the tone in her voice, the way she coos at my son. I didn’t expect warmth in a place like this.

  She looks somewhat like Thane. Same strong eyebrows and straight nose, but the rest of her is so delicate, like some kind of frail bird with a fierce-looking face. She looks like the kind of woman who refuses to take bullshit from anyone.

  “Mom, this is my wife, Christine. Christine, this is Jade”

  She gives me a hesitant smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

  I shake her hand, wondering whether she realizes that her son kidnapped me. Of course she does. She lives here. It’s tradition, as Thane keeps telling me.

>   “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “This is my sister, Lara.”

  It’s a whirlwind of introductions. Lara’s thick dark hair falls to her upper back. She wrings my hand with honest-to-God enthusiasm. I move on to the next person, and the next, bewildered by the fact that they seem so welcoming. It’s almost as if I was never stolen at all.

  “…And this is George, the guy I was telling you about.”

  A man in his sixties with a shock of white hair, but a very kind smile takes my hand and squeezes. “How are you holding up?”

  How am I supposed to answer that with everyone listening in?

  “Uh—fine.”

  He laughs in response to that, still holding my hand. “No you’re not, but you will be. I promise.”

  He pats my hand in a reassuring sort of way as his eyes wrinkle with a bit of sadness that seems out of place among the rest of the happy, smiling people.

  “This is his wife, Violet, who you met yesterday.”

  I recognize the woman from yesterday. Her sleek black hair looks like it was combed with an obsessive hand and pulled into a severe bun, perched on the back of her head with two silver chopsticks stabbing through it. The thick sheen of makeup and the carefully applied eyeliner doesn’t quite mask the desperation stirring in her eyes. She offers me a polite smile through her dark pink lips. She does nothing but smile at me, but I want to take those chopsticks and jab her in the eyes.

  Jesus, Christine.

  “Hi again!”

  I force my mouth into some kind of smile. Violet wears a conservative black dress this time. The arms are all see-through lace, the rest solid black that clings to her every curve. Gladiator like heels strap around her ankles. She’s a gorgeous woman, no doubt about it, but she lacks the confidence that comes with beauty. Violet turns away from me awkwardly to talk to my husband as my baby is passed around like a goddamn party favor. I can’t help but notice how her hand strays to the string of pearls on her neck when she looks at him, or the blush in her cheeks when he smiles at her in greeting.

  “I was wondering if you’d be okay with looking after my son while I’m working.”

  Violet’s magenta mouth parts, blush fanning all over her cheeks. “Of course. I’d love to.”

  She touches Thane’s hand, and my stomach clenches hard. I’m not sure whether it’s because she’s pawing at my husband or because she’ll be babysitting my son. Then she takes Daniel from Lara’s arms and holds him against her chest, and the tight feeling worsens.

  “He’s perfect,” she says in a voice that’s almost wistful.

  Dare I say, tinged with jealousy?

  I approach them both, my teeth practically grinding together. “You didn’t ask me if she could watch her.”

  He shoots me a swift glare. “I’ve known her for years, and I trust her.”

  “That doesn’t mean you get to make decisions about our son’s welfare for the both of us.”

  Violet’s perfectly flawless face breaks with an uncertain smile. “I’ll take care good care of him. I run the nursery on the third floor, so he couldn’t be in better hands.”

  There are better hands. Mine.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just don’t know you, and I never leave my son in the care of strangers.”

  “She’s not a stranger—”

  “She is to me,” I snap at him.

  She flinches as though I struck her, and the weak smile flutters on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, and hands Daniel back to me.

  Then she turns around, wiping the backs of her palms over her eyes.

  Ah, fuck.

  Thane watches her go, outrage transforming his features. He rounds on me furiously. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “I didn’t mean to upset her. Jesus, Thane. Is it my fault that she has a thin skin?”

  “You don’t have to be so fucking rude.”

  “Well, excuse me for being upset that you kidnapped me and now you’re taking my kid away from me when you’re off doing whatever the hell you do during the day.”

  His hand closes over my upper arm as he pulls me out of the chapel, thanking people for coming as he frog-marches me toward the elevator. Damn it, I’m tired of being hauled around like cattle.

  “Would you stop dragging me around?”

  Thane pauses to smile at some of the attendees heading toward the elevator. He pushes me into an empty one, and as soon as the doors close he hits the emergency button to paralyze it. Daniel reaches up, pulling on a long strand of hair. It’s painful, but I’m distracted by a memory. Two years ago, he brought me down this elevator and asked me if I felt the same about him.

  My heart speeds ahead as Thane looks at me, his features darkening and curdled with lust. There’s no warmth in his eyes, except for when he gazes at his son.

  “I’ve been trying really hard to remember why the hell I wanted you so badly.”

  “I never asked for this.”

  He laughs hollowly. “Yeah, but you sure as hell didn’t mind the perks while we were dating.”

  His fingers touch my throat, and a burning sensation like ice to my skin suddenly makes my heart clench. I can’t fight the desire stirring inside me when he touches me, even though every instinct screams to run away from this place. Run away from this place? Or him?

  “It doesn’t matter, because you’re mine again.”

  “But we’re not…”

  In love, I want to say.

  He nods, understanding anyway. “That doesn’t matter either. You love our son, and that’s all I care about.” A devious smirk pulls at his lips as he suddenly palms my stomach, making my heart do backflips. “That and making more babies with you. Fight all you want, Christine. I’ll always be there to drag you into my arms.”

  Desire curdles with the rage blazing underneath his palm. He bends his head toward mine.

  “Always,” he repeats, his eyes smoldering with lust. “The real question is: How hard are you going to make this on yourself?

  * * *

  I hardly sleep at all on the dark-blue slipcovered couch. My eyes still burn from earlier this morning, when Thane got called on syndicate business for a few hours and took Daniel away to be babysat by strangers. It was ugly and awful. The baby was screaming, and I begged Thane to leave him behind, tortured with images of that woman with her hands around my son, but he just frowned at me like the crying baby was my fault and left anyway.

  It stabs at me in the darkness, and the wound bleeds with my heartbeat. I’ve had babysitters, but it was always on my terms and to people I vetted out completely. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not safe here.

  The door knocks, and I startle to a sitting position. I’ve been so lost in my head that I’m not even sure that I actually heard anything. Across the room, the door bounces against its frame again. I stand up, walking to the door. My hand hesitates at the doorknob, and clenches on it finally. Cautiously, I open the door.

  It’s him. The guy from yesterday. The sneering man who watched the blessing from the back and left before everyone else. The black suit makes his skin look even paler than it should be, which is sprinkled with a handful of brown freckles. He wears his black hair in a wave that’s combed to the side, and his chin and jaw are covered with dark red stubble. Deep-seated eyes watch me curiously.

  I bite back a “Who the hell are you?” seconds before it comes out of my mouth. Whoever this man is, he doesn’t look friendly. There’s no point in antagonizing him.

  “Um—hi. Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m here to help you. My name is Silas.”

  Silas. A ringing of understanding runs through my head. I remember reading his name in the papers when I was desperate to get my hands on any news about the syndicate. He’s the goddamn leader of this place.

  What does he want with me?

  I take his outstretched hand, and shake it. “Christine.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Can’t exac
tly refuse him.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I step aside and Silas quickly walks in as a ball of nerves burn in my stomach. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Should I offer him a drink?

  “What’s this about?”

  He sends me a dark look. “Let’s have a seat.”

  Perplexed, I follow him into the living room where he takes a quick look at the surroundings before sitting down on the slipcovered couch that I slept on. I take a seat in the armchair closest to him as he bends over his knees, looking troubled. He stares into his hands, not even looking at me at all.

  “You—you said you were here to help me?”

  He finally lifts his head and gives me an imperceptible look. “What do you know about this place?”

  Is this a test? Some kind of game to prove that I’m worth I belong here?

  “The syndicate? Well, it’s a gang.”

  “We’re more of an organization, but even that’s not the right word for it. Members spend their whole lives here, raising kids, attending events—”

  “—Charity gala dinners, holiday parties, and petting zoos. Yeah, I get it.”

  His stare refuses to relent. “What I’m getting at is that it’s not a terrible place to live. I know that you were married against your will. I know that Thane took you and your son from your home to bring you here.” He pauses and lets me take that in for a moment. “If you tell me that you want to leave, I can help you get out of here, and I promise you that Thane will never bother you again.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I don’t approve of many of the syndicate’s—ah—customs. Believe me, if I could squash half of them flat, I would.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he says in a rough, but not unkind voice. “I wasn’t in charge until very recently. I can’t really go into details about what happened, but I took leadership of this place because I had to. It wasn’t something I wanted. There was no choice. I had to do it.”

  I lick my lips, thinking about the bizarre circumstances and wondering whether the stories about the civil war inside the syndicate had anything to do with his decision.