I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances

by Sophie Brooks

“I’m sorry, it’s not up for negotiation.” The weird thing was that, as I looked at her standing there in my doorway so shocked and upset, I was actually sorry. Sorry that those tears were there because of me. Which was mildly ironic, for a man who spread pain and misery for a living.

  Then her expression darkened and her nostrils flared, the look of pain wiped away.

  “I refuse to let you do that!”

  Ah, there was the anger. I rubbed a hand across my face and pushed off the bed to sit up. “You don’t have a choice, love.”

  Mira closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if to steel herself. “I’ve worked very, very hard to be able to support myself. You can’t just take that away without even consulting me.” She spoke through gritted teeth, as if she was just barely hanging on to her composure. I was mildly surprised that she bothered trying.

  “Well, now you don’t have to work hard anymore. At least you’ll get something good out of this deal.” I swear, it was meant as a silver-lining sort of point, but from the way her eyes flashed with renewed anger, I took it I’d failed to get that across.

  “You arrogant bastard,” she hissed. By her sides, her knuckles were turning white, she was clenching her fists that hard. “You have no idea the lengths I’ve had to go to to be independent. Do you have any idea how impossible it is to get out from a crime family? No, I bet you don’t—I bet the thought that there could be more to life than violence has never even crossed your mind! Do you think I just waltzed into my line of work? That I changed my name just because I felt like it? Just try to imagine how your big mob father would react if you said you wanted nothing to do with his business. Just for one second, picture it. What would he do?”

  I paused as her scathing words dug deep into my skull and anchored down. What my father would do if I’d turned my back on the family business in any way, shape, or form? He’d have me killed, simple as.

  “Everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve done, has been to be free from it all. So no, you forcing me to quit working is not ‘something good’ to come out of this, Blaine. It was the last thing I had left!” She sent me one final look of anger and resentment, and then she spun around on her heel and left my room, slamming the door behind her.

  I stared at the closed door while her voice echoed in my head. For the first time in as far back as I could remember, my own temper hadn’t flared while someone shouted at me. I felt a lot of things, but anger wasn’t one of them. Frustration, sure, along with a highly unfamiliar urge to apologize.

  I shook my head in an attempt at clearing it of the odd sensation. It wasn’t like it was my fault—if I allowed her to go to work, she’d likely get killed or kidnapped within two weeks. It wasn’t happening.

  Great. Why did I have to get married to the only woman I’d ever met who wasn’t interested in the lifestyle that came with being by my side? I’d fucked countless girls who would have happily traded in their day job for my MasterCard and playing lady of the house, or whatever the fuck women did at home all day. And I’d damn sure get morning sex to boot.

  Of course, none of those girls had clawed their way out from a family like the Clerys, only to get dragged back in once they thought they were free.

  I grunted at the unwanted pang of empathy for my temperamental wife. It couldn’t be easy, seeing everything she’d worked for disappear practically overnight. It would have taken a lot of guts to give her family the slip, and realizing it’d all been for nothing had got to sting.

  I’d never wanted to be free from it all. Sure, my life was violent and bloody, but I liked it that way. Most of the time.

  If I’d ever wanted something else, though… would I have had the guts to cross the family? Knowing what would likely happen if they found me again? Probably not.

  She was tough as nails, that bird. She didn’t look it, but defying a family like the Clerys took more balls than most grown men would be able to muster. Including me.

  I couldn’t give her the freedom she wanted, but perhaps it didn’t have to be like this, either.

  Maybe we could figure something out, so we weren’t both so goddamn miserable all the time. A truce, of sorts.

  * * *

  “Mira?” I gave the wooden door to the room she’d picked a cursory knock, but didn’t bother waiting for her to answer. She’d walked into my room without so much as a knock, after all.

  She was sitting on the bed in a nest of ruffled sheets and blankets, and the look she gave me was sullen. It softened notably when she spotted the large pizza box in my hand.

  “Hope you like Hawaiian.” I walked over to her bed and sat down without being invited, plopping the box between us.

  “I hate pineapple.” She reached for the box as soon as it touched the blanket, her fingers wedging it open with skilled ease.

  “If you’d stuck around, I’d have asked what toppings you like.” I grabbed a slice of the cheesy goodness and leaned back on one hand to watch her while I ate.

  Mira didn’t look up, but I saw a small grimace pass over her face before she began picking pineapple off a slice of pizza. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I assumes by “that,” she meant yelling at me and slamming the door. I shrugged. “It’s a shitty situation. I get it.”

  She sighed and nodded, never taking her eyes off the pizza.

  We ate in silence for a good twenty minutes, but I didn’t mind the lack of conversation. I spent the time looking at her, much like I would usually evaluate an opponent before a fight. She looked so soft and fragile, but there was clearly steel underneath it all. And she was smart. I’d seen the fancy university degree hanging on her office wall, and the way she held her own in every argument we’d been in was something new to me. It was also half the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about shagging her. I had no idea what it was about being bitched at that got me rock-hard, but clearly it did something for me, since just the thought of her smart mouth made my cock stir.

  I shifted on the bed, strategically placing a stray pillow across my lap. Somehow, I didn’t think an offer of a quick romp would ease the tension between us.

  “I don’t normally act like this.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “No?”

  “No.” She sighed, finally raising her gaze to meet mine. “I know you didn’t want this either. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s not much to do.” I reached over and grabbed one of her leftover pieces of pineapple from the cardboard and popped it into my mouth. “It is what it is, and we can’t change that, much as we want to. So the way I see it, we have two options open for us. Either we continue bickering every chance we get, or… we try to get along as best we can. I figure if we pick option two, maybe we’ll be just slightly less miserable.”

  She snorted and a flicker of amusement pulled at the corner of her mouth.

  “What’s funny?”

  The flicker turned into a full, albeit wry, smile. “Just that I’m failing miserably as a psychologist, what with leaving the calm rationalization up to the thug in the room while I’m busy freaking out. The irony is sort of poetic.”

  I raised both eyebrows at her in mock-insult. “The thug?”

  Mira waved a hand dismissively at me. “Thug, crime lord, mobster. Take your pick.”

  I chuckled. “I almost want to see you call my father a ‘thug’ to his face.”

  She sighed again and looked at me, this time with a questioning frown that made her look oddly innocent. My cock gave a spasm in agreement of my assessment.

  “Do you think we can make it work?” she asked.

  “What, the marriage?”

  “The trying-to-get-along-thing,” she said quickly. “I’m under no illusion that it’ll ever be an actual marriage, but… maybe if we can figure out to just get along, that’ll be enough.”

  I gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I think we can try that.”

  Getting along would be a massive step up from what I’d envisioned my future with her to
be like just this morning, yet when I left her room to get on with my night shortly after, it wasn’t relief that made me draw in a deep breath before I headed for the stairs.

  If “getting along” was much more than what I’d been hoping for this morning, then why was part of me disappointed that she’d made it so clear she had no intentions of making the marriage work?

  * * * *

  Chapter 10

  Mira

  Sharing that pizza was the last time in more than a week that I saw Blaine. Sure, I’d occasionally hear him banging around in the kitchen when I was in my bedroom, or hear his shower going while I trotted down the stairs to the kitchen myself, but we didn’t actually come face-to-face at any point.

  At the beginning, I found it such a relief. Not actually seeing him meant I didn’t have to really deal with him, which made getting along so much easier. I talked to Rob—the goon who was most frequently stationed outside our front door—and got my shopping arrangements sorted out, and was on that occasion handed the platinum AmEx Blaine had apparently told his righthand man to give to me with instructions to use it as I pleased, “within reason.”

  I’m not going to lie, the “within reason” part only lasted until I’d opened up John Lewis’ website.

  My job as a psychologist allowed me to get by just fine, but I’d never before been in a situation where I could get all the furnishings I dreamed of with just a few clicks of a button. It was completely intoxicating.

  I spent a full week in an online shopping frenzy, which I vaguely justified with my plan to befriend Blaine. It was obvious that he expected me to be a good little homemaking mob wife, and as long as that only involved buying pretty things with his money, I was happy to play the part.

  Only, on the ninth day, when most of my purchases arrived at the door, Blaine was nowhere to be found.

  “Where is he?”

  Rob gave me a short glance over the top of the gold-striped sofa he and his partner for the day were in the process of dragging through the hallway and into one of the reception rooms. “Out.”

  “Out where?” I followed the two men, ensuring they put the sofa where I’d specified.

  “Working. Here?”

  I nodded, and the two goons put the sofa down on the new rug in front of the heavy coffee table they’d carried in before.

  “When will he be back?”

  “Dunno.” Rob rubbed his lower back with a sigh before heading back toward the hallway, no doubt eager to get done with dragging furniture for me as soon as possible.

  I plopped down on my new sofa and bit my lip as the flaw in my plan finally dawned on me. While Blaine not being around meant I didn’t have to deal with him, it also meant that I was nowhere near my goal of befriending him. And if he didn’t hang around long enough that I could make him trust me, then there was zero chance he would ever give me enough rein that I could eventually escape.

  I’d thought that getting all domesticated and making our house into a home would perhaps break the ice between us—that if he saw me making an effort to be more like what he wanted from a wife, he would be easier to manage.

  But if the bastard wasn’t even home to notice, then my plan wasn’t going to work.

  I looked up as Rob and Greg came, huffing and puffing, through the open French doors into the reception room with a seven-foot bookshelf made from solid oak, sweat beading on both their foreheads.

  I hadn’t talked much to either of them or the other men who played bodyguards in front of our house, apart from when I needed to have them approve the lists of companies where I’d ordered food and furniture from.

  They scared me. Everything about them, from their tough faces, bulging muscles, and unapproachable demeanors, reminded me of the darkest parts of my childhood. I had learned to fear men like them from an early age, as much as I’d learned to fear their superiors, like Blaine and his family. Yet, when I looked at them now as they dragged all my heavy purchases up and down the stairs, to make sure everything was just as I’d asked, it was easier to see them for more than something to be scared of. They were busting their arses to make me happy, even if they did it with grim expressions and only because Blaine undoubtedly had told them to help me out whenever I asked.

  A wave of gratitude swept over me when I saw Greg wince as they sat down my heavy book case. Babysitting your boss’s wife would have to suck pretty hard, even if your day job was being a criminal, and yet they did it without making me feel like a burden. Granted, they didn’t exactly make me feel warm and welcome, either, but then again, I hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?

  Neither man managed to hide a look of surprise as I stood up from the sofa and offered each a genuine, if somewhat tentative, smile.

  “Uh. Sure. Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do, for all the work you’ve done for me,” I chirped, suddenly in a much better mood. Perhaps it was because it was my first positive interaction with another human being in weeks, but the simple act of putting the kettle on and getting the fancy china out I’d bought a few days ago made me feel like a different person. Or a real person, I should say, rather than a depressed captive with access to the Internet and a shopping addiction.

  I made the tea in my new pretty, pink-and-green pot and arranged three cups on a silver tray. Then, thinking about all the hard work Greg and Rob had been doing all day, I threw together a few sandwiches as well, but when I went to put them on the tray I realized that I likely wasn’t going to get many other chances to break out my Butterfly Bloom afternoon tea set.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’d set up the three-tier cake stand and filled it with sandwiches, store-bought scones and some cakes I’d planned on eating later in my room, and the kitchen breakfast bar had been transformed into a full-on tea party.

  “Tea’s ready,” I yelled up the stairs, where I’d last heard the two bodyguards bump around with yet another piece of bulging furniture.

  From the looks on their faces when they entered the kitchen thirty seconds later, they hadn’t expected the colorful spread.

  “This is for us?” Rob’s one eyebrow was quirked in what I could only assume was mild disbelief.

  I felt my face heat up a bit. Okay, so maybe I’d gone a bit overboard. “Yeah… I figured you might be hungry, and…” And it wasn’t like I would be able to invite anyone else over for tea and scones anytime soon. Not that I was the most social of people, but a full week in near-isolation had apparently made me pretty starved for company. I sat down on the bar stool farthest left and grabbed a sandwich triangle—crust free. “Help yourselves.”

  Both men sat down with some hesitation, which only emphasized how much their rough appearance clashed with the delicate porcelain.

  “You don’t like afternoon tea?” I guessed, doing my best to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Just because I was desperately lonely enough to try and socialize with Blaine’s hired goons didn’t mean that they had any interest in making even the most basic of smalltalk with me.

  “No, it’s fine. Great, even,” Rob hurriedly replied, and I got the feeling I hadn’t kept my disappointment very well-hidden. He grabbed a sandwich himself and took a big bite. His hum of enjoyment seemed more genuine.

  “We’re just used to Blaine,” Greg said, a wide grin spreading on his face as he picked a buttered scone off the cake stand. “The most you get out of him is a lukewarm beer after a hit.”

  I paled at the reference to the other part of their job, but caught myself before I could freak out. I knew what they did—being a delicate flower about it wasn’t going to do me any good right now.

  Rob gave him an elbow to the side. “Don’t talk about that in front of a lady, eh? She don’t wanna hear it.”

  “It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Greg muttered.

  Rob rolled his eyes—a move that looked surprisingly comical due to his general physique. It’s not often you get the delight of seeing a six-foot
tall, four-foot wide criminal wearing a leather vest roll his eyes like a teenage girl. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s never held on to a lady friend long enough to know the basics.”

  Greg gave him a baleful glare and muttered what were undoubtedly profanities under his breath, but I latched on to the conversation changer with both hands.

  “And you? Have you got a girlfriend?”

  “A wife, going on five years now.” His face lit up with pure reverence, and I found it impossible not to instantly like him a whole lot more. A man who lit up like a Christmas tree at the mention of his wife had to have some good qualities tucked away, no matter his chosen profession. “And two wee ones, four and two.”

  I smiled at his obvious pride. “Boys or girls?”

  “One of each.” Rob took a sip of his tea and his gaze turned somewhat sly. “What are you hoping for? Once you and Blaine get to the baby-making?”

  I choked on the tea that’d been on its way down my throat. Greg helpfully thumped his fist against my back, making me cough and spit the offending liquid up.

  “Uh… yeah, I don’t think there’ll be any babies in our near future.” I got up to get a paper towel, using the spillage as an excuse to turn my back on them while I got my breathing under control. Just the thought of raising a child with Blaine made every hair on my body stand on end. It wasn’t that I didn’t want kids, per se, but in a forced marriage to a criminal I was planning on running away from the first chance I got? No thanks.

  “Pity. I’d like to see Blaine with a couple of rugrats.” Rob chuckled and winked at me “Think it’d do him some good.”

  I managed a smile. “I take it it straightened you right out, then?”

  Greg guffawed. “I don’t know about straightening him out, but he did blow a big heist because he insisted on swinging by a pharmacy for the kid on his way to the checkpoint. Months of planning down the drain. Blaine nearly took both our thumbs for it.”

  Rob’s ears reddened until they were nearly the same color as his ginger hair. “Penny had an ear infection. What was I gonna do, not get her the meds she needed? Just you wait until a lady is dumb enough to let you put a baby in her. You’ll see your priorities straightened out right quick, too.”