Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Ana,” prompts my father. “I need an answer.”

  18

  Angelo

  I lean my head against the leather of the booth on the first floor of Club Seven. Damian and Gino sit across from me with grim looks on their faces. I know they’re probably thinking I should give it up. I’ve been divirting all the resources at my disposal toward searching for Ana. I’m not even sure how long it has been. One month? Four months?

  I run a hand through my hair and blink the fatigue from my eyes. I have one hundred and three men and women who owe me their loyalty in varying degrees. There are hundreds of thousands of buildings in New York. Over six thousand are high-rises at least thirty stories or higher. Almost every single one of them has some measure of security, and the only buildings my men can easily search are the ones where bribes do the trick. I’ve tried not to think about the big picture, but I know the truth. My chances of finding Ana without any clues are almost nonexistent. The only real tangible knowledge I have is that she probably didn’t leave the country, because I called in a few favors and found out that her passport expired last year and hasn’t been renewed.

  “Here’s an idea,” says Gino. He’s wearing a black suit with a red tie. He studies the liquor in his glass while he talks, eyes twinkling with amusement. “We storm Rosiano’s house. Wait till we know he’s in there. Come in with every gun we can hire, and we string the fat fuck up. You know, poke him with sharp things until he decides to tell us what we want to know. Hell, maybe if we poke him enough we can get him to sign off on a wedding for you two, or something?”

  “I’ve told you,” I say. “No. That’s her father.”

  Damian watches us with mild disinterest. He has been helping me search for Ana in the ways that he can with his impressive wealth and connections, but when it comes to talk of guns and crime, he always keeps a respectful distance.

  “How long does the guy get credit for blowing his load in Ana’s mom?” Gino asks. “I mean, c’mon. Doesn’t sound like he’s winning any father of the year awards. The guy practically holds her prisoner. Treats her like shit. Do I need to continue?”

  I clench my fists under the table, hating how my desperation is making me actually consider what Gino is saying, to an extent, at least. Until now, I haven’t even considered hurting or threatening her father to get her back because I knew Ana would never want that. But now? I’m starting to realize I may not get to have everything the way I want. Maybe I don’t get to buy Ana her freedom and still have her heart. Maybe I need to settle for knowing she and the baby are free of her father, even if it means making her hate me in the process.

  Fuck.

  Damian clears his throat. It’s almost a respectful sound, like he’s asking if I mind him butting in to this part of the business he normally chooses to stay separate from. I give him a small nod.

  “Have you thought about checking Rosiano’s house again?” asks Damian.

  “I already had one of his own guys take a payout to check for me,” I said. “But Rosiano’s house was a long shot anyway. He doesn’t want me to find her. Why would he hide her…” I trail off as I feel a stomach-gripping certainty pass through me.

  Gino reaches across the table to wave a hand in front of my face. “Still in there?”

  “We’ve been following her dad and checked all the places he has been, right?” I ask. “No sign of Ana. He has kept her under his thumb his entire life. What are the chances he was willing to send her somewhere he couldn’t keep his eye on her? Get me the guy,” I say suddenly. “The guy who supposedly checked Rosiano’s house for Ana. I want him at my house in an hour. Got it?”

  Gino glances at his watch, drains the last of his drink, and then gives me a sarcastic salute. “An hour. Or your money back.”

  Joe glares at me from behind a black eye. He’s handcuffed to a chair in my living room and the marble floor is dotted with a few drops of the blood from his nose. I only punched him twice, but the guy is bleeding like I hit him with a baseball bat.

  “All I need is a yes or a no,” I say calmly.

  Gino stands at the back of the room with two of my more trustworthy men, Gavin and Brett. I brought a little extra muscle along incase Rosiano decided to come looking for his guy.

  I can see in Joe’s eyes that he’s not the type of guy who is built to survive any kind of torture. He’s built thin and has a big forehead that makes me think of him as some kind of pencil pusher instead of a mobster. When I dug for info, he seemed like the mole I could trust. He was one of the few guys in Rosiano’s crew who seemed more loyal to Ana than his boss. He was eager enough to take my bribe and promise to look for her. When he said he hadn’t found her at Rosiano’s house, I was dumb enough to believe it because I was so sure the house was the last place he’d try to hide her from me.

  “Yes or no,” I repeat, leaning closer and closing my fingers to form a fist.

  Joe’s eyes fall to my fist and he winces back, eyes squeezing shut. “She was there,” he breathes, like getting the words out is a shameful relief. “In the basement. Okay? He keeps her locked down there.”

  I feel my own share of guilt then. I could’ve found her so much sooner if I hadn’t been trying so hard to be a smarter than Rosiano. I shouldn’t have taken one of his own guys word for it, even if it seemed like he should be trustworthy.

  “The baby?” I ask.

  “It’s fine. She’s fine. Grumpy, but healthy.”

  I breathe out my relief. Healthy. Fine. But she’s alone and scared, probably wondering if I’m even looking for her, wondering what’s going to happen to our baby.

  “Did you speak to her?”

  “No,” says Joe.

  I glare at him for a few seconds before I decide I believe him, or that it at least doesn’t matter enough to care.

  “What happens to me?” he asks.

  “You get to stay here until I get Ana back. You lied to me once. I’m not letting you go until it won’t matter if you go back to Rosiano and tell him we are getting Ana. Maybe I’ll even give her a chance to beat the shit out of you herself. Info I dug up said you two were supposed to be friends.”

  Joe hangs his head.

  19

  Ana

  It’s just past midnight when a loud shout wakes me. I sit up straight, eyes wide in the darkness. I don’t even have access to my own light switch in here, so I have no choice but to sit in complete darkness and strain my ears for sounds.

  There’s nothing for a while. Long enough that my thoughts wander to my failure. I talked myself out of lying to Angelo. No freedom was worth putting him through that. This was my own problem. My prison. I didn’t need to hurt him to save myself from it. I’d bear whatever was going to happen and find a way to fight through it for my baby’s sake.

  I’d also harbor the guilty hope that one day, no matter how far off, Angelo would find me. It would be the small fire I’d hold deep inside to keep me struggling forward.

  Footsteps ring out from just beyond my door. From the sound of it, someone is scrambling down the stairs as fast as they can. The lock to my room clicks, rotates, and then releases. The door swings open and the light flicks on to reveal my father standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a little crazed. He’s holding a pistol in his right hand.

  I don’t even have time to think or try to figure out what’s happening before he’s wrapping his arm around my neck and pressing the gun to my temple. He stands behind me, gripping me like I’ve seen terrorists in movies hold a hostage when they need a human shield.

  “What’s happening?” I croak. My voice is strained from the weight of his forearm against my neck, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

  “Quiet!” he hisses.

  More shouting comes from upstairs. My entire body is on edge, anticipating the sound of gunshots and screams. I don’t hear any though. Just shouting and loud footsteps, like dozens of people are moving around above us. The voices grow more quiet but I can still hear the rumble of many people talk
ing. There’s a quick, surprised shout and then a loud thump. A long moment of apparently silence comes while my father looks up to the ceiling, constantly shifting his feet and dragging me closer and closer to the corner of the room.

  He’s scared, I realize. For most of my life, seeing my father scared would’ve felt wrong and upsetting, even. He has always been so unshakable and strong. His personality is founded so firmly in strength and confidence that seeing him afraid would threaten to undo everything he claims to be.

  I enjoy his fear tonight. I feel how tense his body is and I can smell the sour odor of his sweat. He challenged Angelo by taking away what mattered most to him—me—and thought he could handle Angelo’s worst. Now he’s seeing he made a mistake. All the months of confinement are almost worth it just to experience this moment.

  I see the people coming downstairs this time because my father left the door to my room open and the lights on. At least five men come down, and not nearly in as much of a hurry as my father was. I can’t make out their faces until they file into the room and spread out in a semi-circle, guns held at their sides.

  Once I see Angelo among them, I can’t see or think of anything else, like tunnel vision. He’s all I see.. My mind is numb.

  I try to step toward him, forgetting the gun against my temple and my father’s arm around my neck. My father tightens his grip, pulling me closer and forcing a choked sound from my throat.

  “Give her to me,” says Angelo. His voice is strong and deep. Powerful. “None of your men are seriously hurt. None are dead. Give Ana to me and we’ll walk out of here like nothing ever fucking happened. Simple as that.”

  “Fuck you,” says my father. “I’ll die before I let you put your hands on my daughter again.”

  “She stopped being yours, if she ever was, when you treated her like a prized cow.”

  I want to say so much, my father’s grip on my neck is too tight and all I can do is focus on bringing in enough air to stay conscious. My fingers dig at his forearm, urging him to relax his grip, but he’s too distracted to notice.

  “She. Is. My. Daughter.” He emphasizes each word by pressing the point of the gun more firmly against my temple like little exclamation points. “She will obey me. She loves me.”

  “Let her talk. Ask her to decide then.”

  My father seems to consider this for a few moments, and then his grip relents and I only keep from falling because he’s still clutching me, just not so tightly that I can’t breathe. I realize then if I had fallen to my knees, I would’ve taken away his shield. Would Angelo have shot him then?

  The question makes me feel cold all over, because no matter how much I picture it happening, I can’t find the revulsion I know I should feel at the idea of my father getting shot. I think I’ve known I don’t love him anymore, but the idea of him getting hurt is something else entirely, something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to allow.

  “Tell him the truth, Ana,” says my father.

  I can’t quite believe my father really doesn’t know yet. He thinks I’m going to choose him over Angelo, doesn’t he?

  “Angelo,” I say as calmly as I can, trying to ignore the gun against my head and the little voice asking what will happen when father doesn’t like my answer. “I need you to promise that no matter what I say, you won’t hurt anyone.”

  “You have my word,” Angelo says. “Nobody gets hurt. No more blood. I just want you.”

  I put my hands to my father’s forearm and gently urge it away from my neck so I can turn to face him, to look into his sweating face and his slightly wide eyes. He looks so scared. It’s almost hard to stay mad at him, but then again, I don’t think what I feel toward him is even anger. It’s just a kind of detachment now.

  “I’m never going to marry someone for you. I don’t want anything to do with your life. You ruined mom. You ruined as much of my life as you could. You ruined your own life. You’re poison, and I’m only sorry I chose the easy way out and played along as long as I did. I never want to see you again.”

  An unexpected burst of anger and sadness flashes up inside me then, and I surprise myself by slapping him hard across the face. For a brief instant, his eyes light up with the old fire and purpose I’m used to seeing there, and I think he might actually point the gun at me again and try to shoot. Instead, he averts his eyes, looking down at the ground with a profound sadness in his features I’ve never seen there before.

  I’m done with him and with my old life. I turn to Angelo and put a hand on my stomach, feeling the tight skin and imagining the tiny little person growing inside me. For the first time in months, I can imagine a happy life for the baby and I. I can imagine being a family.

  We sit around a fire on the beach outside Angelo’s house. The waves lap at the sand behind us, but the sound is barely audible over the crackle of wood burning in the small bonfire the guys started. It must four or five in the morning by now, but the combination of sleep deprivation and the euphoria of being released and back with Angelo seems to have muddied my ability to tell time. All I really know is the stars are out, the moon is over our heads, and the night is beautiful.

  My toes are buried in the cool sand and I’m leaning into Angelo, head resting in the crook of his neck while he wraps his strong, tattooed arms around me like he might never risk letting me go again. Neela and her sister, Jamie, sit across from us with Brendan, who is fast-asleep in Neela’s arms. Enzo has his arm around Neela and the two of them can’t seem to stop staring lovingly at their sleeping son.

  Gino has been making himself smores for what feels like four hours straight, and I can’t quite seem to wrap my head around how he still looks like he’s in such amazing shape.

  “One day that’s going to catch up with you,” Enzo says, grinning at Gino.

  Damian snatches the smore Gino was about to eat and pops it into his own mouth and then flicks his eyebrows up at Gino a little playfully. “Your brother’s right,” he says with a full mouth. “Just watching your back.”

  Gino glowers. He stabs two more huge marshmallows with a metal skewer and holds them over the fire. “It’s your back you’d better be watching,” he murmurs.

  Angelo chuckles.

  “I don’t want to ruin the mood or anything,” I say slowly. “But speaking of watching backs, shouldn’t we kind of be… hiding, or something?”

  “No more hiding,” says Angelo. He stands up, sliding his arm out from around me, leaving me feeling cold.

  He stands beside the fire, eyes down while the flames cast a flickering bronze glow across his skin. He looks magnificent in the firelight. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned to reveal his tattooed and tan chest and he’s wearing his slacks still but with no shoes—a combination I apparently find nail-bitingly sexy. I take in his strong, clean features and the determination in his eyes and can hardly believe I’m having his baby.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” Angelo says to Enzo.

  “Left the life behind?” Enzo asks.

  Neela’s sister, Jamie, perks up at this. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks quickly between me and Angelo.

  Gino looks up too and lets the first of the dozens of marshmallows he has roasted in the past few hours catch fire and burn.

  “Yeah,” Angelo says. “What wouldn’t you do?” he asks, so quietly I think the question is almost to himself. He shifts his eyes from the fire to the waves, saying nothing for a long time.

  “You’d do anything,” Enzo finally says.

  Neela gives his hand a little squeeze and smiles to herself.

  “You meet women,” says Enzo. “You feel infatuation, maybe. They keep your interest for a few days. A week. Maybe even a month. But it’s shallow. No different than playing some poker with the guys or catching the football game when it’s on TV. It’s a distraction, but nothing you’d make a sacrifice for. But then one stubborn little firecracker comes your way and changes everything.”

  Angelo takes his eyes from the waves and flashes his b
rother a half-grin. “Yeah.” He looks to me then and his grin widens. “Makes everything that came before seem insignificant.”

  Jamie, who I hadn’t been watching since Enzo started speaking, gets up suddenly and leaves.

  Angelo notices her and grimaces a little. He looks like he considers going after her, and then thinks better of it.

  “Here,” says Neela, who carefully hands Brenden to Enzo. “It’s okay, Angelo. I’ll talk to her.”

  Angelo purses his lips and nods to Neela, then motions for me to walk with him away from the fire and toward the water.

  I gladly follow him, wanting to be away from the suddenly tense mood around the fire. He takes my hand and we start to walk along the beach where the sand is wet and the water occasionally slides up and cools our feet.

  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay with all of this. Everything that happened,” says Angelo.

  “It’s going to take time. I mean, my own father, he—” I cut myself short, shaking my head and licking my lips. “I think it’s one of those things that’s only going to heal with time.”

  “I’ll respect what you want,” says Angelo. “I need you to know that. If you want to try to fix things between him, I’ll never keep you from your family. But,” he adds a little hesitantly. “I’m not going to let him take you away from me again, either. That’s my only condition. He’s never going to hurt you again. Never.”

  I squeeze his hand a little and smile at that. Maybe I will want to try to fix what has been broken eventually. Once the baby is born and there’s no doubt that Angelo and I love each other. Once we’re married, I dare to think. Maybe then my father will finally give up the idea of using me as bait and be able to see me as a daughter instead. Part of me doubts it, but maybe. Knowing Angelo would let me explore that means the world, though.

  “About the night he took me,” I start. “I had a lot of time to think about how I wasn’t ready to try what you wanted, and I feel like I should’ve at least tried to, you know. I should’ve tried it instead of getting so freaked out.”