Tied Down

by Vanessa Waltz

  I think about Beatrice and her long blonde hair. Doing her highlights every couple months, talking about guys, convincing her to come with me to a connected bar. There were small rays of sunshine in the fortress, and she was one of them.

  I can’t just abandon them.

  Do nothing, and you might as well pull the trigger yourself.

  “Get out of my way.”

  I shove at the two men guarding the restaurant’s entrance, but there are multiple entrances. I run down its side and they take off after me. My shoulder slams into another door and I stumble through the kitchens, where Johnny looks at me as though through a mask of blood. My dad kneels on the tiles, staring straight at Johnny. I realize they moved him to the kitchens because it would be easier to clean the blood from the floor.

  “Don’t kill him!”

  A chill descends over me as Johnny’s handsome face turns toward me, his eyes detached. They’re endless, black tunnels. Nothing. Jesus, there’s nothing there.

  “He needs to go.”

  “Johnny, please.”

  “This was never going to work out.”

  The harsh sound of Mom’s voice grates in my ears. “Maya, stop him! Oh God!”

  “He’s the president. You’re going to start a war.”

  I scream his name, but it’s like yelling at a brick wall. His men grab my shoulders and rip me backward, and my heels connect with someone’s shin.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  Johnny gives his soldier a deadly look and eyes me with the same deadened expression. “It’s too late now.”

  Blood runs from my dad’s nose, which looks broken. “Pull the trigger, you son of a bitch. Watch what happens.”

  Johnny digs the muzzle in my father’s skull. “What’ll happen is this bullet will go right through your fucking head!”

  “No!”

  I shove his arm away and he grabs me, rage contorting his features as he attempts to shove me out of the way. His face tightens under my fingers as I grab him.

  “Please, Johnny.”

  “Why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill him.”

  I search for reasons inside me, anything that might spare my drunken asshole of a father for the sake of my mother’s tears. I just know deep down that killing him will make things worse.

  “Two dead bikers is bad enough, but their president? You’ll have to kill every last one of them.”

  “Then that’s what’ll happen.”

  “He deserves a chance—”

  The restaurant echoes with his hollow laughter. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t give second chances.”

  He smiles against my hand, and it’s his smile that makes my throat tighten and tears slide down my cheek.

  “Give him one. For me.”

  Then slowly, little by little, he lowers the gun from my dad’s head, his haunted eyes never leaving me.

  From here on out, we’re done. You stray from your territory, I’ll kill you. You make an attempt to contact my fiancée, I’ll kill you. You so much as suggest to her that she should get an abortion, and I’ll take my time pulling you apart, limb from limb.

  The sodden rag I’m holding drops into the dirty dishwater.

  Pink mist.

  Like the suds of this dishwater, except blood red, flying through the air in fine water droplets.

  He just killed them. Two men from the MC. Foul bastards, but still. They had wives. And he just blasted them as though they were nothing. He was going to do the same to my father.

  My heart pounds a wicked beat as I wash the dishes.

  Just keep him happy. Keep him content.

  Or he’ll kill your father, and that’ll be enough to start a war between the bikers and the mob.

  I don’t want anyone else killed for me. I wanted so badly to get out of there that I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d miss my mom. My cousins.

  And now it’s all turned to shit. What’s going to happen when Dad goes back to the MC and tells them that the boss of the Cravotta family gunned down two of his men?

  It’ll be a long, bloody war with casualties on both sides.

  So how the fuck do I stop it?

  I need to control him.

  There’s no fucking controlling Johnny Cravotta, you idiot.

  I have to try.

  A key scrapes in the lock and I jump to action, washing the rest of the dishes and hurriedly putting them away.

  He steps inside. I hear the hollow sound of his footsteps and a chill runs up my spine.

  I’m not weak.

  I barely hear my own footsteps as I walk toward him. A smooth dark-navy suit glides over his body like silk, and he glances up at me even though I’m not making a sound. I feel as though I’m balancing on a tightrope the closer I get to him. Looking at him feels hot and cold. His smile makes my skin break out in a hot flush, but his eyes clench my insides with a cold grip. I can’t look at him the same way I did before. I force myself to step closer to him. My hands tremble as though I’m trying to tiptoe past a lion. He stares at me as though I’m meat. I hook my fingers under his jacket and I pull it off his lean shoulders. His lips stun my cheek and I feel a glow burn into a sudden flare, but I turn away toward the closet.

  My feelings toward him are so fucked up.

  I hang his jacket in the closet, and when I turn around he’s still staring at me.

  What did I do?

  “What’s that I smell?”

  “Oh, I made dinner.”

  “Huh.”

  I never make dinner, because I can’t cook for shit.

  He walks into the kitchen and grasps the edge of the dining table, looking at the neatly laid silverware and dishes. A smile tugs at his mouth.

  “What is all this?”

  “It’s dinner.”

  “I can see that,” he says, pushing off the table and stepping into my space. “You can’t cook.”

  “I’ve just never tried.”

  He takes a look into the sink filled with suds, the pans blackened. I should have just ordered something, for Christ’s sake. He lifts the lid off the pan on the stove and raises an eyebrow at the fish.

  “Are you trying to kill me with all this black shit?”

  The smirk in his voice sets me off. “I took all the black shit off. Don’t be a baby.”

  A shadow crosses over Johnny’s eyes and my heart leaps. Then he threads his fingers through my hair and yanks my head back, and the two men he butchered in front of me are tugged to the forefront of my mind. I never saw so much blood in my life.

  His breath hisses over my neck.

  “All of this reeks of desperation.”

  I am desperate.

  “Johnny—”

  “Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop being so fucking scared of me.”

  But I am scared of him. He could end this fucking war if he wanted. Only he can ensure whether the people in the fortress live or die, my mom among them.

  He reaches under my shirt with his other hand, smoothing over my back. My bra snaps against my skin as he lifts the strap. My muscles contract at the small sting.

  Then his voice rolls over me, smooth as velvet. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “You killed those men right in front of us—”

  His eyes are like lead. Seductive fingers twist my strap, slowly loosening the hooks. The skin around my straps starts to tingle and a flush spreads over my chest.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m not sorry for killing them.”

  All this time I never saw the darkness. I knew it was inside him somewhere, deliberately hiding out of sight. Now it’s staring at me in the face, talking to me through his remorseless tone as he removes my bra with a loud snap that makes my legs clench together.

  His hands smooth over my bare back, bringing me within his intoxicating embrace. The dimples curving into his face tell me that he knows exactly how affected I am.

  “You didn’t have to do it.”

  “I’m
the boss of the family. “

  “He mentioned your father, and you went berserk.”

  Johnny’s eyes blaze. “He pissed me off beyond endurance. It set me off.”

  What if he does the same thing to me, someday?

  His fingers slide out of my hair and the smile disappears. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “You’re going to start a war!”

  The apartment rings with my voice before I remember that I’m supposed to be playing the demure housewife role. Oops. Too late.

  All smiles again, he descends on me, his hands soothing my shoulders, my face. “Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

  “Of course it is.”

  His voice is like honey. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I’m the most powerful man in this city. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  But I can’t say the same for your family.

  “You killed two of the MC’s men. If you think they’re going to sit back and just—”

  Johnny takes both of my hands suddenly and walks backward with a huge smile on his face. “I got you something.”

  “Got—what?”

  I’m distracted by the excitement in his voice, my heart still beating fast.

  “A little engagement present.”

  He slips his hand inside his back pocket and removes a long, thin envelope, which he hands to me, smiling.

  “You can’t just distract me with a present.”

  “Open it.”

  He looks so fucking pleased with himself. I stare at it for a long while. He can’t just fucking bribe me like this.

  What’s in it?

  I stick my finger inside the envelope, but it’s already open. I can’t imagine how a piece of paper is going to make me happy. A folded, pink paper falls out.

  It’s a letter from the Robertson Beauty Academy.

  “Read it.”

  “Dear Maya, on behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to welcome you into the Robertson Beauty Academy for the Hairdressing Program.” My voice trembles and breaks. “How did you do this?”

  “Turns out, I know a guy who knows a guy whose wife works there.”

  The paper shakes in my hands as I reread that sentence over and over. It’s one of the best schools in Montreal. The curriculum is better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of.

  “I can’t believe it.” Tears fall from my nose. “Why would you do something like this?”

  Warmth glows from his hand, which smooths my cheek and wipes away my tears. “I want you to be happy.”

  No one’s ever said that to me, even my own mother. Happiness was valued last over the MC and family.

  “Why do you care?”

  It’s just such an alien concept to me. I’m so used to seeing people treat their wives like crap that part of me believes this has to be a trick.

  His gives me a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I want our kid to grow up in a happy home.”

  He wants me to be happy.

  I can’t believe he actually bought the courses for me—he remembered what I told him at the restaurant and got the classes. It’s such a sweet gesture that I have a hard time reconciling this with the man who blew away two men in front of me.

  “Now you can follow your dreams.”

  Chapter Nine

  Johnny

  Four a.m.

  My favorite time of the day.

  When midnight blue lightens into a color that reminds me of a deep coma, washing over the bed and the walls. Covering her skin in that coolness. My arm is snug around her waist, my palm resting over her smooth belly, just underneath where my kid is growing.

  I shouldn’t have let him go.

  It nags at me constantly. It’s the fucking reason I’m wide awake at this time, as she sleeps, oblivious. I prop my elbow on the pillow, watching as a strand of hair flutters over her nose. The ethereal blue light makes her look like stone, but she’s warm in my hand.

  Sal says I fucked up by killing his two men, but how long was I supposed to tolerate his disrespect? The fucking bastard wanted my child dead. I wanted to kill him. I should have, but she begged me for her father’s life. The splinter in my chest aches like an infection. God, her loyalty reminded me of mine. I almost forgot what it was like to feel a sense of duty toward your father. He said jump, I jumped. Would have done anything—killed anyone for my dad.

  My arm tightens around her waist, my hand anchoring over her hips. What would he say if he were alive right now, and he knew I fucked up the alliance he worked so hard to build?

  Who gives a shit, right?

  I look at her instead, and the rapid pace of my heart doesn’t exactly slow down, because it can’t when I’m around her. The hand around her waist dips lower, until I stroke the slit of her pussy, because she’s always naked in my bed. She stirs, smiling when she feels my hand between her legs.

  Maya makes a bone-cracking sigh and turns around, giving me a nice view of her tits. Jesus. My cock hardens, blood rushing to it immediately.

  “Go back to sleep, hon.”

  She smiles when my arm curls around her back, her body sliding over mine. Fuck. Her hair is like a dark halo, and her lids open slightly. My skin tingles when she plants a kiss right on my neck and pulls back with a smile.

  “I’m crazy about you. I even dream about you.”

  “Yeah?”

  She makes a sound and lets her head fall on my chest. I keep running my hands down her curves, my cock growing thicker. It wasn’t hard, making her fall for me. Those classes did the trick. I gave her what she always wanted, and she loves me for it. I can tell.

  Sometimes I’ll be sitting down at the couch, and she’ll bring me a beer without me asking. Shit like that. I realized how much I missed this. Not just having someone do things for you, but also having someone to come home to. Someone to fuck all night, every night.

  Maya’s still awake. I know it because she reaches down and grabs my cock, which is hard as a rock. Then I flip her over and nudge between her legs, and I’m thrusting inside her, slamming it home. Her screams echo in the apartment like music, and I just want to do this for the rest of my life. I fuck her until her throat tears as she begs for more. Her breath shakes out of her lungs with each thrust.

  You’re mine. You’re mine.

  I’m determined to coat her womb with my cum, just in case anything happens. I’d fucking knock her up again—and again. I want a family, and she wants me. She’s wrapped around my finger and I’ve got my dick wrapped in her cunt.

  She arches her back and I finish inside her, euphoria slamming into my shoulders. The bed creaks as I fall forward, propped up by my elbows. The way she looks at me makes me feel weak, and I hate that fluttering feeling when she presses her lips to mine. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  She traces a finger over my chest, her eyes not quite meeting my gaze. For a few minutes there’s nothing except the sounds of our breathing. Hesitation makes her open and close her mouth.

  Just fucking say it.

  “What is it?”

  It takes a few false starts before she finally looks at me and speaks.

  “I never said thank you.” Anxious eyes slide over to mine.

  It takes me a couple seconds to realize she’s talking about the classes I bought for her.

  “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

  “Yes I do.” Her brows furrow. “You’ve done so much for me without me even asking.”

  Because I have selfish motivations. “You look like that bothers you.”

  “It feels like you’re paying me off.”

  I am, but another part of me can’t deny that it makes me happy to see her smile. I want a devoted wife, not a prisoner.

  I lower myself so that my nose touches hers. “I’m not just here to fuck you into oblivion every day.”

  A smile twitches on her lips. “No?”

  “I want you to be happy. Why can’
t you believe that?”

  A slow burn fills Maya’s cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  “I like the way you are.” I kiss the side of her head and hear her sharp intake of breath. “I like that you speak your mind, that you’re not afraid to give me shit. I like that you have dreams. Any normal girl in your position would’ve just given in to your dad, but you didn’t.”

  She looks at me with fire blazing in her eyes. I know that I should tell her that I love her.

  Just do it. You don’t have to mean it.

  I should love the woman I’m marrying, but I don’t even know if I believe in love. Fuck, I can’t just lie to her face. A guilty, poisonous feeling spreads inside my chest when two tears slip down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  She slides her hands around my neck and kisses me hard, her tears transferring to my face. Her kisses become lighter as she tires, and then I pull her onto my chest as she falls asleep. The wheel in my head keeps spinning as she falls asleep. In the past, I would have never bothered with any of this. I would have bought her jewelry, or given her a thick wad of cash for her to buy whatever she wanted. I want her to be mine, but putting a ring on her finger isn’t enough.

  Her loyalty needs to be mine.

  I have better shit to do.

  My muscles tighten as I impatiently sit in the small bakery, only half-listening to the owner prattle on and on about this flavor or that one. Several trays of slices of wedding cake lie on neat ceramic plates. The owner takes them off the tray and explains the flavors in detail, one by one.

  For God’s sake just shut up.

  Then I look at Maya, her eyes widening at the choices, the big smile on her face.

  This is her first wedding. It’s special.

  “We have a lavender vanilla, a chocolate rose, maple bacon—”

  “Bacon?” The word catches my attention.

  The owner points out the small slice of cake, a medium-brown color with a sticky glaze. I stab it with my fork and taste the caramelized bacon and maple syrup. Shit, it’s not bad.

  I turn toward Maya with a piece of my fork. “You’ve got to try this.”