Tied Down

by Vanessa Waltz

  She pushes my attempts to hold her—to stop her from making that awful sound. I hold her against my chest even though she shoves me, because it’s the only thing that I can think of that’ll make her stop.

  “I don’t want to live like this.”

  “Like what?”

  Then her tears stop and her reddened face snarls at me. “If I’m going to be your wife, you need to start treating me like one.”

  What the fuck is she talking about?

  “I am treating you like my wife.” My fingers spread over her back. “Anything that’s mine is yours, Maya—”

  “I don’t want your fucking things! I want you.”

  A grin spreads across my face. “Not fifteen minutes ago, I was balls deep inside you. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I want intimacy. I want to know you—”

  She wants to go on fucking dates. To hold hands and walk down the street and hear sweet nothings whispered in her ear.

  “All you had to do was ask.”

  Her eyes flutter when I run my fingers over her flushed cheek.

  “I didn’t think I had to.”

  Snarky little spitfire.

  She leans into my hand and lets out a sigh. It’s one of those painful sounds. Every instinct tells her to hate me, but she wants me—feels hurt at the idea that she’s only a piece of ass for me.

  I bend down and suddenly pick her up. She throws her arms around my neck as I lift her into my arms.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to the living room.”

  “For what?”

  For a fucking date, that’s what.

  “To watch a movie with me.”

  Deep down I know that I’ve been an asshole to her. It’s the stress of so many things going on. I’ve had no time to make sure she was happy. She’s having my kid. The least I can do is make sure her needs are met.

  She smiles when I sink down into the couch with her in my arms. Maya nestles in my chest as I turn the TV on.

  “What do you want to watch?”

  “Legally Blonde.”

  Oh Christ.

  Somewhat regretting my idea already, I choose the channel and prepare myself for an hour and a half of Reese Witherspoon’s ridiculous face. But it works. Maya laughs at the screen, the sound shaking through my body. The movie is boring, but I’m content just to hold her and watch the mirth on her face. The couch squeaks as she moves her body. She rests her head against my chest and her eyelids flutter.

  “So tired.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  She murmurs something and I’m just content to stroke her arm, my eyes heavy. I lie there, my fingers slowly kneading her until I’m lulled to sleep, too.

  Chapter Eight

  Maya

  The warm, humid air clings to my skin as I walk down the street in a short cocktail dress. I take Johnny’s hand, forcing him to slow down and walk by my side. The night hums with the slight buzz of packed bars and happy voices. We pass by a closed restaurant and he grins at me before pulling me behind a privacy screen of the outdoor seating.

  “What are you—?”

  The backs of my legs hit the wooden bench next to the folded-up chairs, and he climbs on top of me, silencing me with his lips pressed against mine.

  Damn it—it’s instant heat between us. Or at least, I feel it burning my chest. The heat is right above my heart, which flies like a bird.

  He pulls back with that crazy, animalistic look in his eyes and bends swiftly to kiss the swell of my breasts—and bite.

  “Johnny!”

  A growl rumbles in his throat and then he sucks in air, straightening from me. He pulls me to my feet effortlessly, and I bump into his chest. Then he reaches a hand under my dress and gives my ass a squeeze.

  Jesus Christ.

  “You look hot.”

  His voice creeps inside me as his hand lingers on my ass.

  “Tonight’s for going out.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  He promised he would take me out so we could get to know each other a little better before our engagement party, although I doubt he really gives a shit about getting to know the finer details of who I really am. Still, I can’t be mad with him. He’s making an effort.

  My insides simmer as we walk down the street, hand in hand. According to Johnny, my father’s people would snatch me the moment I strayed from his presence. I know they’re here, watching me, but I don’t really mind. I’m desperate for news about my mom, and Chuck.

  I follow Johnny without really seeing where I’m going, full of doubt. Weeks ago I was following my dreams. The classes for beauty school started a week ago, and it’s hard not to feel a pang for what I’ve lost.

  Now I’m just a pregnant mob fiancée destined to become the don’s wife.

  Johnny stops walking and I nearly crash into him. I look at the tiny hole in the wall. Napoletana.

  “This is one of my favorite places.”

  I’m skeptical as he leads me inside, eyeing the amateurish painted mural on the wall and the plastic green-checkered covered tables.

  “How’d you find this place?”

  “My father took me here all the time.”

  We squeeze through the narrow entrance and Johnny heads toward an open table in the side room where it’s a little quieter. He pulls back the chair for me and I sit down. Then he circles the table and sits across from me. A passing waiter notices him immediately.

  “Bonsoir, Monsieur Cravotta.”

  He gives him a little nod of his head and the waiter returns with two menus and a bottle of wine. The waiter pours just a small amount of wine and Johnny tastes it, nodding in approval. Johnny looks at me across the table and smiles as the waiter pours him a full glass. When he goes to fill mine, Johnny makes a stopping motion with his hand.

  “She can’t drink.”

  That’s right. Shit.

  My hand unconsciously curls around my stomach. “I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant.”

  “I haven’t.”

  He surveys me across the table, the low visibility obscuring half of his face in shadows. Then the waiter lights one of the candles and softness flickers over his tanned skin.

  “Are you—are you scared of becoming a father?”

  I know I don’t feel ready to become a parent. Johnny mulls it over with a slight smile and shakes his head.

  “No. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

  It just doesn’t compute. Why would a sex-crazed mobster want anything to do with kids? Why have anything get in the way of fucking as many women as he wants and going out all night?

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t feel like a whole man. There was something missing—a void.”

  His black eyes blaze with restless hunger as I curl my hands over the table. I can’t identify with that. I was just trying to have fun, to get out a little bit, not sign up for a lifetime of domestic bliss.

  “But you don’t even know me. I might be a terrible mom.”

  He shakes his head, smiling.

  “I might smoke and drink while I’m pregnant—beat the kid or something.”

  “I don’t get the crazy vibe from you.”

  I don’t get any kind of vibe from you.

  “What makes you think that a baby is going to fill this void of yours?”

  The intensity in his eyes drops to a low simmer. “I didn’t know how badly I wanted a family until your dad threatened to take it away from me.”

  A small thrill runs through me when I feel the protectiveness of his words, but it’s not just that. He wants a family—he wants to possess me.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”

  I never thought I would keep a baby from a one-night stand, but here we are. I don’t know why, but I trust him. He’ll take care of me and the baby. He’s a fucking Italian, for fuck’s sake. It’s practically encoded in their DNA.

 
“All I know is that I just need to protect what’s mine.”

  My heart jumps in my chest. “You’re mine, too.”

  A small smile curls his lips as he slides his hand down the table and takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Yes.”

  “I mean it, Johnny.”

  “I don’t plan on getting another wife.”

  “You know what I mean. No fucking strippers, cocktail waitresses—I’m the only one who gets to touch your dick.”

  A smirk staggers across his face. “I find the fact you think that I chase hired pussy insulting—”

  “I saw you staring at that cocktail waitress’ ass the second time we met.”

  His smirk refuses to disappear and my insides boil with heat as he leans across the table, his hand stroking my knee underneath. “You’re already fucking jealous, huh?”

  It’s not exactly jealousy, but I can’t deny that I’m worried. He has a crazy sex drive, and what’ll happen when I’m huge and there are hot waitresses and strippers strutting around him all day at work?

  “You don’t need to be jealous, Maya.”

  “My stomach is going to swell and I’m going to get fat—”

  It feels ridiculous to admit these stupid, insecure fears of mine as he inches his hand up my thigh.

  “You’ll be sexy.”

  His dark eyes seem to glow at me from across the table, and I can tell that he means it. Maybe he’s even looking forward to it. It brings a smile to my face.

  “My child is inside you, and you’re wearing my ring. Why would I want someone else, when I have you all to myself? All I want to do is fuck you until my cock stops working.”

  Greedy fingers squeeze my thigh and a sudden flare shoots between my legs, sending heat to my face. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. He makes me feel like a prize. It’s the way his eyes linger on every inch of my skin, and the way he strokes my body after he fucks me, as though he still wants me. I’m addicted to that. The more I look into his eyes, the more I just want to call this whole dinner off and go home.

  “Have you thought about names?”

  “A little bit,” he admits. “I like Matteo, for a boy.”

  Thinking of the baby sends my heart racing.

  “I worried about becoming a mom.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “I have no one to look up to. You don’t understand what it was like growing up in that place.”

  “That’s exactly why you’ll be a great mom. You survived that shit-hole.”

  Confidence blazes from him, but I can’t help the trembling of my hand. I wish I could be that sure of myself. I only know what I know.

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Many times.” He clasps his hands on the table. “Bikers have no fucking class, no offense.”

  He’s right, but it’s a little rich to hear him say that.

  “Your opening line to me was, ‘I want to fuck you.’”

  White teeth flash at me as he lets out a short laugh and shrugs apologetically. “I was just getting to the point, sweetheart.”

  “Nothing gets to a girl’s heart faster.”

  The corners of his lips turn. “You didn’t seem to mind any of the filthy shit I said to you.”

  “Well—”

  “You definitely didn’t mind that filthy shit when I did them to you.”

  Cocky bastard.

  “If you’ve been to the fortress, then you know what it’s like there.”

  “I guess.”

  I lean in across the table. “I don’t want our kid to be surrounded by violence.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  My voice lowers to a whisper. “But your job—”

  “Unlike your father, we don’t involve our women and kids in the family business.” He slides his hand along my arm. “I don’t bring my work home.”

  My eyes search him, the handsome, dark suit, his hair neatly swept, the deep, earnest eyes. He’s not lying. How could that be possible?

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  The smirk lifts to his eyes. “It probably does after living in that place for so long. It may come as a surprise to you after hearing your father’s bullshit, but we respect our families.”

  His hand slides away from me as I slowly digest that. It sounds like a fantasyland.

  “What’s your family like?”

  He makes a face at the question, quickly hiding his discomfort under a smile. “Can’t complain.”

  The guy can’t stand talking about himself, can he?

  “Was your dad like you?”

  At the mention of his dad, Johnny compulsively grabs his wineglass. “He was in the life, yeah.”

  I’m startled by the grittiness in his voice. “What was he like?”

  His eyes cut into me as every trace of warmth recedes from his body. I feel it like a wave of frost curling around my limbs. He gives me a look as though it’s none of my fucking business.

  “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  “You don’t need to know anything about my dad for that.”

  He looks like he might snap the stem of his wineglass. Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s not worth him getting pissed off, but he changes tack with lightning speed.

  “What did you want to do before you met me?”

  A sagging feeling makes me slump over the table. The hair salon. Beauty school. Both dreams, crushed. I can’t stand to talk about it now.

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Come on.”

  Fine.

  “I wanted to go to beauty school, and I worked at the café because I was going to save up money to move out and work at a hair salon. Maybe have my own business, one day.”

  It was a stupid, modest dream, but it was mine.

  There. Go on. Laugh at me.

  But he doesn’t laugh. “That’s not stupid. Lots of my guys’ wives work in hair salons. Who gives a fuck?”

  Seeing him shrug it off lightens a huge weight sitting on my chest.

  “My dad said it was a waste of money. He wanted me to stay in the compound, date a biker, and watch everyone’s kids. Anyway, he made me quit my job and refused to pay for the school.” I shrug hopelessly. “And now I’m here.”

  And now I’m depressed.

  “What was it about it that you liked so much?”

  I stare at the small hole in the plastic tablecloth, avoiding his gaze because I don’t want to see how sorry he feels for me.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. I was supposed to go to college, and then that fell through because my dad thought it was a waste of time, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he thought beauty school was a waste of time, too.”

  He frowns at me as the waiter drops a deep-red pizza in front of us, the cooked tomato aroma hitting my stomach immediately. Shit, that smells delicious.

  “My father said the same thing to me.”

  “What?”

  “He never really gave a shit about education. He just wanted me to start working for him. You know, help provide for the family.”

  We’re quiet for a moment as he cuts a slice for me and slides the wedge onto my plate. He cuts one for himself, slicing into the plate with a knife so loudly that the ceramic shrieks and I wince.

  I guess he still hates his dad.

  He picks up a knife and fork, cutting into the slice.

  “You seriously eat pizza with a knife and fork?”

  He looks at me, his utensils raised. “What?”

  I sputter with laughter as he gives me a serious look. “I never took you as a prissy guy.”

  “I get my hands dirty all the damn time.”

  Then he winks at me and my heart squeezes.

  “So pussy juice is okay but tomato sauce isn’t?”

  “Don’t talk like that here—”

  “I seem to remember you laying on filthy lines at me at that sausage place.”

  “That w
as different. People know me here for being—”

  “—For eating your pizza with a knife and fork.”

  “Come on.”

  “I promise you that they gossip about it.”

  He drops the knife and fork and grabs the slice with his hands, tearing off a piece with his mouth as he stares at me, chewing. “Are you done breaking my balls?”

  “Why? It’s so much fun.”

  Hell, I’m actually smiling for the first time in days. We eat the rest of the meal in comfortable silence and I feel as though a little weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I still don’t know much about him, but I learned a few bits. At least he has a sense of humor.

  “Mr. Cravotta, thank you so much for coming. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

  Johnny gives the waiter a genial smile as he stands up, slapping a bunch of bills on the table.

  “Do you ever get tired of people sucking up to you?”

  He lets out a long sigh as he guides me out of the restaurant. “Why do you always say whatever’s in your head?”

  I slip my hand into his as we walk down the street, and a smile pulls at his lips.

  “Do you want me to be a sycophant like everyone else?”

  “No.” He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and tugs my arm so that I fly into his chest, and then he looks down at me through smoldering eyes. “I want you to shut up and kiss me.”

  The moment I feel his breath on my lips, I lean forward because I’m tall enough in these heels to catch his lips. Something more than desire heats up inside me as he curves his arm around my waist and kisses me back right in the middle of the sidewalk. It feels as though there’s something leaping inside my stomach and a breathless wave of happiness hits me as he pulls back and smiles.

  “It’s so nice to meet you!”

  A woman I’ve never seen before in my life embraces me and bumps her cheek against mine. I get a strong whiff of perfume and for a moment I’m dizzied by the smell. She looks like a richly decorated tree with her golden bracelets and necklace. All I have is my gaudy engagement ring that still needs to get sized. Her manicured nails seize my hand as she catches a glimpse of it.

  “Oh my God, it’s gorgeous! You must be so excited!”

  “Uh—yeah.”

  I’m practically bursting with excitement.