Unprepared Daddy: A Second Chance Romance

by Bella Winters

  The next thing I knew, Michael was holding on my shoulder and breathing noisily in my ear.

  “Michael?” My voice was thick and clogged with sleep. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “Beth,” Michael grunted. He put his hand inside my cotton nightgown, pawing at my breasts. Normally the touch of his fingers on my nipples was enough to send my heart racing with desire, but it felt wrong all of a sudden.

  “Michael, I’m not really in the mood,” I said as I shifted under Michael’s body. Instead of taking his hand away, he slipped his fingers to my other breast, pinching and rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger. Pleasure raced through my body but my heart felt numb and wooden in my chest.

  “C’mon, baby,” Michael pleaded. The sour smell of whiskey washed over my face and I groaned, turning away.

  “I’m not in the mood,” I said again, more loudly this time. “Why don’t you just go to sleep?”

  “Come on,” Michael grunted. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. Climbing on top of my body, Michael forced my legs apart and shoved a muscular thigh against my crotch. Panic exploded in my chest and I cried out as I pushed him away. For a moment, Michael stared at me in drunken lust. Then he narrowed his eyes and glared.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just not in the mood. We fought earlier, Michael. I want to make things right before we have sex again.”

  “Goddamned bitch,” Michael muttered under his breath. He pulled his hands away from my body and rolled over in bed, making the whole mattress leap into the air. For a moment, we lay together in silence. Then Michael got to his feet and stumbled out of the room, cursing me under his breath the whole time.

  My heart was racing and tears filled my eyes as Michael slammed the bedroom door behind him. I knew that I should be a good fiancée – that I should chase after Michael and make him see that I loved him, that I’d do anything for him.

  But all I could do was cry. Everything will be okay, I thought to myself. Everything will be fine, it’s all going to work out.

  Deep down, I wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Four

  Alessio

  Silvio and I sat in my car, breathing heavily. The air was thick with the scent of grease – we’d gotten burgers and fries to kill our nervous appetites – but otherwise silent. I reached for my diet cola and took a long sip, letting the carbonated liquid flow over my tongue and down my throat. Normally, soda helped calm my stomach whenever I was upset. But today, I had a sinking feeling that nothing would do the trick.

  “Boss, I ain’t so sure about this,” Silvio said. He fingered the intricate silver pistol in his lap. “Why don’t we just kidnap the kid and hold him hostage? What the fuck does this kid know about his Daddy and Daddy’s grudges towards you?”

  I glared. “Your patronizing tone isn’t exactly helping here,” I snapped. “You were the one who told me that Douglas wasn’t ever gonna take me seriously until I did something big.”

  “I didn’t mean kill his son,” Silvio said heavily. “Alessio, this is bad. This might be so bad you could never come back from it.”

  “Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” I groaned. “Every other idea wouldn’t work – it’s either too much or not enough. If I kill his son, Douglas is gonna know that I’m fucking serious about getting my money. He ain’t gonna fuck with me.”

  “Michael is Douglas’s only son,” Silvio said slowly. “You wouldn’t try murdering someone who killed your only son?”

  I pulled a packet of cigarettes from my breast pocket and lit one, inhaling deeply. The smoke filling my lungs only made me feel more suffocated than ever, and I coughed so hard that I saw stars popping and exploding in front of my eyes.

  “If my father hadn’t died in an accident, you bet I’d have avenged him,” I said, stubbing my cigarette out in the cup holder ashtray. “But he didn’t. He was hit by a fucking truck.”

  Silvio bared his teeth. “Well, Michael’s going to be hit with a fucking gun,” he said grimly. “And you don’t think his old man is gonna come after you?”

  “I don’t care,” I said hotly. “I don’t give a shit what Douglas tries after this. He has to know better – he’s gotta fuckin’ take me seriously, or I’m taking my business elsewhere.”

  Silvio sighed. “I admire your temperament,” he said. He ran a hand through his dark hair – it seemed to be threaded with more silver than it had been just a day ago. “But come on, Alessio. You gotta know this isn’t a good idea.”

  I turned to face him. “I’m taking you to Tony, and Tony’s dropping you off,” I said. “I ain’t backing down from this, Sil. You gotta help me – you gotta do this dirty work yourself.”

  Silvio looked tortured. For a moment, I almost felt bad for him. Silvio had been my father Gianni’s best friend, and they’d worked together for years. But I knew it had been a long time – maybe even decades – since Silvio had carried out a hit. Still, he was the man I trusted most in the whole family, and I knew I could rely on him to get the job well done.

  Silvio was silent as I steered the car towards an abandoned building in the warehouse district. A young kid, Tony, was going to drive Silvio to the meeting place. Earlier in the day, I’d called Douglas and acted like nothing was wrong – like everything was biscuits and gravy. I’d told him that I wanted a meeting with him, to set some terms. He’d seemed happy and smug by the time we’d hung up. I’d been trying not to laugh – was he really that stupid to think I was going to let him fuck me over like this? That’s what had cemented my decision: if I didn’t kill his son, Douglas would spend the rest of his life trying to fuck me over. He was a greedy bastard, and he had to learn that he wasn’t the smartest man in New York.

  “Alessio, please,” Silvio said as I pulled the car up to the warehouse. Tony was waiting outside, leaning on an ugly old black sedan. “Please,” Silvio said. “Please change your mind. This ain’t a good idea, and it ain’t gonna bring about the kind of change you want.”

  “It ain’t your place to tell me what to do,” I said cheerily. I put my car in park. “You know what you have to do,” I reminded Silvio. “Just get there and do it. I’ll be waiting right here, we’ll go out and have us a nice meal or something after it’s done.”

  Silvio looked pained. “Boss, I ain’t done this in—“

  “Shut up,” I said. I grinned. “It’s show time.” I pointed at the clock. It was twenty-five after five, ten minutes before I’d told Douglas that I’d be meeting his son down at the docks. And his son ain’t got long to live, I thought. A giddy sense of relief spread through my body. This is gonna be it for little Michael.

  Silvio obediently kissed my ring as I held my hand up in the air. Then he sighed once more, pocketed the little silver pistol, and climbed out of my car. As I watched him walk to Tony’s waiting car, I realized that he looked like a man on the way to his own execution.

  I sat back and waited. I’d saved another burger to eat while Silvio was gone. The whole thing wouldn’t take very long. Tony would pull up, Silvio would get out and try to explain to Michael that I was running late and that I was already on my way. When Michael started to protest, Silvio would tell him to shut up, pull out a gun, and shoot him. It was gonna be one of the most simple hits I’d ever ordered, and I took pleasure in knowing that Silvio would eventually realize I’d been right.

  If I didn’t kill Michael, his father would never respect me. And if I couldn’t get the respect I deserved from Douglas Bennett, the Amoruso family could kiss our long reign goodbye. I had to get the money I was owed from drugs, and make sure that I was in control of more territory than my father had ever been.

  I tore into my burger, chewing noisily. Flavors of cheese and onion and ketchup spread through my mouth and I closed my eyes. Greasy food was one of the few rare pleasures in life, besides fucking girls and snorting a nice rail of coke. Because of the surprise hit on Michael, I wouldn’t be able to make it out to New Jersey today and pay little Carina
a visit. Too fucking bad, I thought as I took another huge bite of my burger. She’s a hot little minx, and I’ll fuck her before long.

  I grinned. As soon as I finished my snack, I wiped my hands on my trousers and pulled out my phone. It was almost six – with any luck, Silvio and Tony were already on their way back to me. Clearing my throat, I dialed the New Jersey restaurant. Sure, I wouldn’t get the chance to bed a cute little girl today. But I could talk to her – make her want me.

  “Caruso’s Mendham, how can I help you?”

  I coughed. “It’s Alessio,” I said. “And it’s always how may I help you, not can.”

  “Oh, sir, I didn’t know it was you! What can I do for you, sir? Are you coming by today?”

  I chuckled. I loved the way my staff sucked up to me. It was always an ego boost.

  “Actually, I was wondering – is Carina in today?”

  “Who?”

  “Carina,” I said impatiently. “You know – that cute little thing. Black hair down to her ass, those big dark eyes.”

  “Oh, you mean Cosetta.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” I said. “She in? I wanna talk to her?”

  “Sure, sir, I’ll go get her. May I place you on hold?”

  I chuckled. “Of course,” I said.

  There was a rustle and a pause and a quiet beep on the line. Seconds later, a girl’s smoky, dark voice filled my ear. My cock swelled inside my trousers and I had to work hard to keep from groaning.

  “Hi Mr. Amoruso,” Cosetta said. “You were looking for me?”

  “I was,” I said. “How are you, honey?”

  “I’m good,” she purred. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  I laughed out loud. “Baby doll, why would you be in trouble?”

  “I don’t know.” Cosetta giggled. I got the sense that if I actually spent any time around her, she’d be annoying as hell – the kind of girl who never stopped giggling or tossing her hair. But usually those girls were amazing in bed, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel for her sweet little mouth to suck me off until I was groaning.

  “Well, I was gonna come out there and see you today,” I said. “Sadly, business got in the way. You workin’ tomorrow?”

  “Uh-huh.” Cosetta giggled again.

  “Well, I might just drop by,” I said. “And Cosetta?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Don’t wear panties.”

  “Sir,” Cosetta said. “You’re making me blush.”

  I grinned. There was nothing like a girl fawning all over me to make me feel better.

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll be there. You behave, okay?”

  “I will, sir.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye. When I glanced up, I noticed that Tony still wasn’t back. I checked my watch – now, it was quarter past six. With a frown, I started the car and drove towards the warehouse. Maybe Sil was so sore over this that he told Tony to take him home, I thought. What a coward. I’ll speak to him in the morning – he can’t treat me like this. No one can treat Alessio Amoruso like this and get away with it.

  My stomach clenched and I shifted in the seat nervously. As I pulled up, I saw Tony’s car. Tony wasn’t behind the wheel, and I heard yelling and shouting.

  I shifted my car into park and leapt out, grabbing my gun and clutching it in my sweaty fist. Angry voices were yelling back and forth – I recognized Sil and Tony.

  “Silvio?” I yelled, jogging close to the docks. “Sil, where the hell are you?”

  “Alessio!” Silvio yelled back. “Stay the fuck away!”

  “I’m coming!” I screamed. I broke into a run, ignoring the stitch that sprang up in my side. The burger I’d just eaten was threatening to come back and twist my stomach to shreds, but I didn’t care. If my best friend was in trouble, I was gonna fucking make sure he got out of it fast.

  “Sil!” I yelled as I ran closer. “Where the fuck are you?”

  The shouting increased and I moaned softly as I came within sight. Silvio was on the ground, dirty and bleeding. His suit was ripped at the knees and elbows and there was a gunshot wound in his stomach. He was pale in the face and clutching at himself as blood spilled over his hands like some kind of macabre fountain.

  Tony was lying on the ground, dead.

  A man with thinning hair was pointing Silvio’s gun at him and screaming.

  “Michael Bennett,” I said loudly, pulling my gun from my waistband and cocking it. “What the fuck are you doing to Silvio?”

  Michael turned to me and his face was etched with horror. “You leave me the fuck alone!” Michael screamed. “You know what this means? My father is going to destroy you!” His voice rang out over the docks and I glared back, staring him down.

  “That’s what you think,” I said calmly.

  I pulled the trigger.

  Michael’s body crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Five

  Beth

  The day after our fight, I felt like shit. I knew that it was my fault – Michael was right. He’d provided for me for close to four years, and I had a lot of responsibility to live up to. I decided right then and there that I’d try to be a better fiancée, as practice for being a good wife.

  Michael had made it clear to me that he wanted me to stop working as soon as we got married. That morning, I submitted my two weeks’ notice to my job. It wasn’t a big job – it was only part time, and I maybe got fifteen hours a week. But it felt like a big deal symbolically, and I knew Michael would be pleased when I told him what I’d done.

  Michael hadn’t spoken to me that morning before he’d left. When I’d called at lunch, his receptionist, Jeanne, told me that he had a bunch of evening meetings off-site. Normally, the news would have upset me. But today it just made me nervous – I wanted things to be perfect by the time he got home, and this gave me just the right amount of time that I needed to impress my fiancé once again.

  I went to the salon and got my hair done – new highlights – as well as a pink manicure and matching pedi. Before Michael and I had gotten together, I’d had kind of a wild side: I’d liked dyed hair and wild colors on my hands and feet. But Michael liked traditional, quiet girls and I wanted more than anything to show him that I was ready for that kind of life. I knew that to Michael, marriage wasn’t just a piece of paper. We’d already talked and agreed that no matter what, we wouldn’t get a divorce or separate, even for a trial period. Michael wanted a traditional life – he wanted me to stay home all day with our kids, cooking and cleaning and making myself look perfect and presentable.

  I wanted him to know that I was serious about committing to our life together. When I got home from the salon, I called Heather. We had our differences when it came to pleasing men, but there was no one like Heather who knew how to make a man happy…if only temporarily.

  “I’ll be right over,” Heather promised on the phone. “This is gonna be fun!”

  “I know,” I said. “We haven’t had a girls’ night in forever.”

  “When is Michael getting home?”

  I sighed. “Late,” I said. “I mean, later than usual. Maybe eight or nine. I want to have dinner warm in the oven by the time he gets here.”

  When Heather and I hung up, I went into the living room and vacuumed again until the lines in the carpet were as clean as razor cuts. I was satisfied with my work. Growing up, I’d always been kind of a messy person. But I knew that as an adult, I’d have to be neat as a pin in order to make my future husband happy.

  Heather knocked on the door and I let her in with a squeal. We hugged and danced around until I pulled her in the kitchen and shoved my arsenal of cookbooks under her nose.

  “What should I make?” I flipped through an elaborate dessert cookbook that featured tiny little custard dishes and petit fours. “Michael doesn’t like any of this fussy stuff – at least, that’s what he says. But he always eats the dessert I make.”

  Heather frowned. “What’s his favorite?”

  I sh
rugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Like I said, he won’t tell me.”

  “What about cheesecake? Men love cheesecake,” Heather opined. “I made one for Jay and he ate like, half of the thing in one sitting.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”

  “It’s easy, too,” Heather said. She walked across the kitchen floor and pulled open the fridge. “You’ve got everything,” she added. “Even the lemon zest!”

  Twenty minutes later, I carefully slid the warm cheesecake into the oven. I beamed, proud of my work.