Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  Somewhere along the way I grabbed on for the ride, and now I don’t know how I’ll ever get off or if I even want to.

  I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “You know, men always like to think of themselves as such simple creatures. But if that’s true, why does it feel so complicated to have feelings for them?”

  “You’re not kidding,” says Neela. “You know how I first met Enzo?”

  “A blind date, right?” I ask, not exactly seeing her point.

  “Yes, but that wasn’t where it ended. He kidnapped me. You want to talk about complicated…”

  I give her an incredulous look. “You’re not serious.”

  She smiles and flicks her eyebrows up. “Unfortunately, I am. But it’s a long story.”

  “Somehow I can’t help feeling like whatever is going on with Angelo and I is also going to fall into the ‘long story’ category,” I say.

  “I hope it does. For your sake,” she adds with a grin.

  “So, uh, just stop me if it’s not my place to ask, but what happened with Jamie and Angelo? The parts you do know, at least.”

  Neela winces a little, then shrugs. “So… you know Angelo is a Luciani. I assume you know that means he’s a—” she hesitates, giving me a chance to fill in the blank.

  “A mobster. Yeah. I’ve seen the Luciani crime family in the news enough to figure that out.”

  She nods, looking a little relieved. “Well, Enzo was too, when I met him. Once things got serious and he found out about the baby, he decided to step down from his role for the good of our family. He got out. For us,” she adds. I can tell from the way she bites her lip and glances his way fondly that she must love him still, maybe even more than she did back then. “Anyway, Jamie never really wanted to go into a lot of detail on it, but I think she might have implied she wanted Angelo to do the same for her.”

  I frown. “So he wouldn’t leave the lifestyle behind for her?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “My ears are burning,” says Angelo.

  I jump a little at the sound of his voice. I didn’t even notice him moving away from the guys and come toward us.

  “S-sorry,” I stammer.

  He squints at me. “Sorry? I assumed you were saying good things.”

  Neela saves me by leaning forward and smiling. “It was girl talk, Angelo. You know, sacred sisterhood and all that? I don’t care how scary you are, I’ll never spill a word of it no matter how much you torture me.” Her tone is teasing and familiar, but his hard eyes never leave mine or show any hint of him finding humor in her words.

  “Why does everyone want to call me scary, lately?” he asks with a grin.

  “Gee. I wonder,” says Neela.

  I laugh.

  He leans in so his lips are just beside my ear and his voice is a whispered rasp in my ear. “If you’re being naughty, I’ll happily take you to the fifth floor of my club for your punishment.”

  I swallow hard. “I was—”

  A loud knock at the door makes everybody look up at once, cutting me off mid-sentence. It’s not a gentle knock. It’s the kind of knock that says open up the fucking door, or else.

  “Wait here,” says Angelo. He rushes off toward the door, along with the other men.

  Neela and I both ignore him, moving behind him as closely as we dare until we can see the front door, where Enzo and Gino are already staring down two men I recognize. Donnie and Franco. Behind them, nearly every muscle-head and capo in my father’s organization is standing in a wide semi-circle around the door. No one is holding a gun, but there’s a very, very clear threat hanging in the air.

  Angelo either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t care. He pushes past Damian, who is hanging back a bit and then between his brothers to face off against Donnie and Franco. “The fuck is this?”

  My father steps forward from the back of the group of men. In all the years of my life, I’ve never really seen him in his element. I’ve seen him ordering his men around. I’ve seen the way they look at him. But I’ve never seen this side of him. There’s an aura of invincibility to him, like he knows down to his bones that no one could ever dare touch him because it would be a death sentence. It’s all the more impressive because he’s not a big man, especially standing face to face with Angelo, who is almost a foot taller than him. My dad looks up into Angelo’s eyes all the same and jabs a finger at his chest. “This is me coming to get my daughter.”

  “Sorry,” says Angelo. “I must’ve missed the collar around her neck. I thought she was free to go where she pleased.”

  “She is. Except here. Except to fraternize with Luciani filth.”

  Angelo stands with his feet planted wide and his shoulders broad. His hands are in fists and his neck is bent to look down at my father. “I’m going to give you one minute to get all your fucking men off my brother’s property before I let things get ugly.”

  “Angelo,” I say, making my way to the door and putting a hand on his shoulder. “No,” I say quietly.

  “Come here, Anabella,” snaps my father. He extends a beckoning hand and flicks his fingers up twice like a master might call a dog who has misbehaved.

  I look between the two groups. Angelo, Enzo, Gino, and Damian all stand like Greek gods—tall, regal, and powerful, each gorgeous in their own way. Then there are my father’s men. They stand with slouched postures and dark, slicked back hair—with mean faces and the promise of violence in black, beady eyes. For the first time, I see my father and my family how Angelo must. My father and his men look like the bad guys, like the classic villains in a movie, the ones you know to root against at a quick glance.

  “Anabella,” says my father again, voice low and dangerous. “Do not make me ask twice.”

  I hang my head and walk toward him, pulled by some invisible rope that he has spent my whole life tightening.

  “Ana?” asks Angelo.

  I can’t look at him because I already know what I’m going to do. No matter what has happened between Angelo and I or how much I might think I feel for him, my father is my father. I can’t just turn my back on him in front of all his men. He’d never forgive me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, still not looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  I half-run out the door and let my father take me by the arm leading me toward the cars. I never look back to Angelo, but I know he doesn’t look away until long after we’ve driven out of view.

  10

  Angelo

  You sure about this?” asks Gino.

  My little brother is riding shotgun and we’re parked outside a restaurant on the west end of the city called Camillo’s. I got the call from one of my guys that Ana was seen going inside just half an hour ago.

  It was only three days ago that she walked out of Enzo’s house and turned her back on me for her father. I’d never hold that against her. Family is family. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let her cut things off. I know that’s not what she wants, even if she’s confused.

  “Yes,” I say. “I saw the look on her face when he made her go with him. That wasn’t love. She’s afraid of him.”

  Gino winces a little. “Kind of a big assumption, man. Most kids are afraid of their parents sometimes. Doesn’t mean they don’t love them.”

  I grunt in annoyance. “I’m going to see her. End of story.”

  “Fair enough. You want me to come in with you?”

  “No. Stay out here and make sure no Torretti guys follow me in.” There haven’t been any openly admitted acts of hostility between the families in years. But a few weeks back, Trenton, one of my guys, disappeared a day before he was set to sign a contract to open up a wing of businesses in a kind of neutral zone between our territory and the Torretti territory. His disappearance didn’t stop the deal from happening, but it sent a message, even if the Torretti weren’t going to own up to it.

  They felt threatened by the move, and they wanted us to know they still had teeth.

  Of cours
e, my response was to bring in four of their guys and hammer all of their knuckles. My guys wore masks and were told not to say shit, but our message was clear too. We know it was you, and you’d better watch yourselves.

  I could’ve ordered one of the men to be killed. Hell, I could’ve done it myself. There might have been a time when I was younger that I wouldn’t have even hesitated. I believed my own bullshit back then. We all lived by a kind of code. Everybody who got into this lifestyle. You knew the risks. You knew the price. I was ready to pay it, so why should I be afraid to collect the fee if somebody needed to disappear?

  The memory of gunfire echoes in my head. I see the bright muzzle flash and remember the smell of gunsmoke and the metallic scent of blood that clung to me for what felt like days. Most of all, I remember the emptiness that clawed at my insides after that night and never seemed to stop, like some all-consuming virus that was dissolving me piece by piece until I’d be nothing but a shell of who I was.

  All those pieces I thought I’d lost… All the parts of me I thought were long gone like so much dust… I can feel them even now, stirring back to life. I know it’s because of Ana. She’s giving me something to fight for that I care about. A purpose. At least, a purpose beyond the cold, empty thirst for revenge against the Torretti’s I’ve let fuel me all this time.

  “Lone wolf,” says Gino, nodding. He pulls out a package of mixed nuts from his back pocket and starts popping them in his mouth with a bored look on his face.

  “Didn’t you just eat before we left?” I ask incredulously.

  “What, are you worried I’m going to ruin my figure?”

  I shake my head in annoyance before getting out of the car and heading inside. The restaurant is dimly lit and cramped with a single rectangular dining room. A young hostess greets me.

  “How many in your party, sir?”

  “Just one.”

  She walks me toward the back of the dining area, bringing me past a table where Ana sits with the two beefheads I saw following her back at the coffee shop before I took her to the movies a few days ago.

  I only catch a glimpse of her, but a few days apart makes her look all the more irresistible. She’s sadly prodding at her plate of spaghetti when her big eyes lift to take me in. She does a double take when she realizes it’s me.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask the hostess loudly enough for Ana to hear as we pass.

  “It’s just back here,” she says.

  She seats me in the back corner, explains the specials, and then she waits a little bit, watching me with a hopeful expression.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  The hostess pulls at her fingertips and laughs nervously. “You know, I get off in an hour. I just thought since you didn’t have anyone to eat with that maybe you—”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m here for someone.”

  She looks embarrassed, then hurries off. I immediately stand to head toward the restrooms.

  I wait outside for a while until Ana comes around the corner, looking confused. “What are you doing?” she whispers. “I only have a few minutes before they get suspicious.”

  “They follow you all day?” I ask.

  “What?” she asks, then she seems to understand why I’m asking and frowns in thought. “Not when I’m at class. I have Philosophy, Psychology, and Sociology all in the same building from four to seven thirty every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. But—”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “No. It’s not perfect.” She takes a quick look around the corner and then focuses on me again, looking irritated. “I have an idea of what you’re thinking, and no. I can’t just ditch my classes. I have tests to study for, grades to worry about, and my future to think of. Besides, my—” she swallows, looking away suddenly and clearing her throat. “Look. It would be better if you just left. For both of us.”

  I grit my teeth. “No,” I say in as measured a voice as I can. “No, it wouldn’t. And you know it.”

  Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head. “Do you know what he’ll do? Do you even have any idea? He said he’d gun down every last Luciani in cold blood if we kept this up. He’ll start a war over this. I know my father well enough to know he means it. He’ll do it, Angelo.”

  “There’s no cost too high,” I say.

  “You don’t mean that. Your brothers. Your friends. Your sister-in-law. They’d all be at risk. And for what? Love? Is that even the end-game here? Or is this just about lust and—and fucking?” The tears are sliding down her cheeks now, dripping to the carpet below.

  “It’s more than fucking, Ana. I care about you. I—”

  I hear two sets of heavy footsteps approaching. “Anabella?” asks a deep voice. “You fall in?”

  “Forget about me,” she says quickly, dashing away her tears. “Please. Just forget you ever knew me.”

  Without giving me a chance to respond, she walks around the corner, leaving me standing there with clenched fists and the taste of acid in my mouth.

  “Sorry,” she says lightly from just around the corner. “You two are so paranoid.”

  “You would be too if you worked for your father,” says one of the men.

  I lean my forehead against the wall and close my eyes. No matter what I said, she’s right. I can’t risk the lives of everyone I care about for my own selfish desires to be with her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, no matter how badly I want her. I can’t even kill Rosiano Torretti to solve my problems, because I’d be killing Ana’s father.

  Fuck.

  I run a hand through my hair, trying desperately to think of a way out of this and coming up completely short. I refuse to believe it ends here, but for the moment, I don’t have any ideas.

  11

  Ana

  Piaget’s stages of childhood development were a revolution at the time, partly because they had drastic implications for education and…”

  My professor’s voice turns into a dull buzz in my ears. All I hear is the sound of the door opening at the back of the lecture hall. I turn to see who it is, hoping with a very stupid, very selfish part of myself that it will be Angelo. Instead, it’s just a flustered looking girl showing up twenty minutes late to class.

  My stomach clenches with disappointment.

  Two weeks. It has been two weeks since I turned Angelo away at the restaurant. He’s not going to come back, Ana.

  I let out a long sigh and continue doodling on my notebook instead of taking notes. I have to keep reminding myself that I did the only reasonable thing there was to do. I put an end to what would have been an immensely stupid relationship. New relationships make the brain fire off all kinds of chemicals. I just learned all about the chemical side of romance last semester. That’s all it is. All it was. It was a temporary high. It’s why all the tragic romances like the story of Romeo and Juliet always tell about the initial contact. People get blinded by the chemical reactions. That’s all.

  If I had been dumb enough to let it continue between us, I’m sure the feelings would’ve dulled just like everything else. We’d end up like so many bored couples, arguing about where we were going to get food that night. And we would’ve risked so much only to reach that bored, tired place so many couples end up. I did the right thing. I did what I had to do.

  Except I can’t even buy my own rationale. It felt like more than chemicals. It felt real. I hated that he was part of the mafia, just like my father. I hated that he was exactly the kind of guy I swore I’d never let myself get involved with. It’s why I focus so hard on my schoolwork. It’s why I write stories when I’m not studying, just to give myself a mental escape. One way or another, I want my own way out of this life. I can’t be bound to my father by his money and connections. I’ll make my own path and I’ll eventually shake his influence free.

  Despite it all, Angelo refuses to leave my mind. When I close my eyes I see his burning eyes. I see the hard, angular lines of his face and that wolfish grin of his. I remember the scent of him—
masculine with a hint of spice and something woodsy. Most of all I remember the heat of his touch, how his skin is always so warm that he almost seems feverish, how even his… even his cock was fever hot inside me.

  I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together to suppress the guilty throb that begins between my legs.

  Move on, Ana. Move on and forget him.

  12

  Angelo

  Three Months Later

  Let It Happen” by Tame Impala thumps through my spacious beach house. The ocean looks inky beneath the stars, washing soundlessly against the sand, drowned out by the sound of music and tinkling laughter from the girls.

  I invited Damian and Gino over for a few beers, which I should’ve known meant half the city would end up in my house. Somewhere over the span of an hour, a few beers turned into a rager of a party. I don’t have the heart for a party, though. All I want to do is sit on the chaise by the windows overlooking the beach and stare through the glass. All I want to do is forget, but every day only locks her into my head more firmly. Like a tree, Ana has taken root in my head and spread out until I can’t even see a woman without thinking of her.

  It has been three months since she turned me away at the restaurant. I’d had my guys keep tabs on her just to be safe, but a few weeks ago, they lost all trace of her. Not so much as a single sighting. She isn’t even showing up to class anymore.

  Damian plops himself down on the couch beside me. “Going to sulk all night?” He thuds his fist into my shoulder. “Come on. The girls are asking about you.”

  I shake my head. “I’m good.”

  He considers me for a moment, then nods.

  Damian hops off the couch and heads back to the party, not bothering me with another word. It’s part of what I’ve always liked about him. He’s a good friend and he’s loyal, but he won’t ever stick his nose where it doesn't belong. It’s part of why he has still remained a friend even though he doesn’t want any part of the criminal life.