Chained: A Bad Boy Romance

by Holt, Leah

  “How do I know you won't vanish again?”

  “I didn't vanish,” I said quickly. “I never meant...” I trailed off.

  Owen eyed me, curious. “Never meant to what?”

  “To miss your hearing,” I finished quietly.

  He stood there for a long while, his face expressionless. Then, he waved his phone. “Put my number in yours. I'll trust you to call me later for our date.”

  Relieved that he was dropping the issue, I started to type his number into my phone as he spoke it. “Okay, I'll see you later.”

  Owen flashed his tell-tale smirk. “One way or another, yeah. You will.”

  He really won't let me out of our date, will he? That fact made my heart swell. His determination was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

  On the way to my car, I peeked back over my shoulder. Owen stood watching me, his body resting against the wood frame. The heat in his eyes boiled, threatening to scald me if I stared too long.

  As I drove off, his shape faded in the rear view mirror as the building blended into the trees behind me. The quiet of my car was disrupted by thoughts of concern.

  How the hell did all this happen? I'm about to go on a date with Owen.

  A convicted murderer.

  A murderer that I've now slept with, gotten knocked up by, and then let him eat me out in a filthy garage.

  Who the hell was I becoming?

  Despite all my fears, a feeling of anticipation grew bigger. Owen made my body burn for him, melt with every stroke of his fingers. When we were in the same room, the atmosphere felt charged with his presence.

  Could I just ignore all that? Refuse to acknowledge the sheer power between us?

  The cold fact was that a baby had been placed in the middle of two people who'd lost their inhibitions and were taken over by lust. Is that what I feel? Is this just surface level sex?

  It can't be, I've never felt like this before.

  This is so much stronger.

  Once home, I paced back and forth between my bed and the dresser, one hand resting on my stomach. The few outfits I still felt comfortable wearing were laid across the mattress.

  Oh my god, I'm so nervous! What am I supposed to wear to this?

  I picked up the one black dress I owned, my feet stopped in front of the mirror to hold it up. I hope this camouflages my stomach. The coldness of the silver glass brushed the tip of my nose as I leaned closer.

  My eyes lowered to look at my belly. “What do you think?” I whispered to the growing life inside of me.

  Biscuit appeared in the corner of my eye, tongue swaying back and forth. “Come on up.” I clicked my fingers together as I plopped onto the bed.

  The latch of the front door clicked, the walls shaking as someone entered the apartment. “Charlie? I've got great news!” Sara yelled.

  I should talk to Sara. Tell her everything. I can't hide this secret anymore.

  “I'm in here!” I tried to wipe the worry from my face. I didn't know how to even begin this conversation with her, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to.

  Should I tell him first, before anyone else?

  “Hey, guess what?” Her voice was full of excitement. She threw my door open and danced into the room.

  I forced a curious look, but my thoughts were lost in the turmoil I faced. “What is it?” I asked, sounding more dull than I meant.

  “There may be a position opening up at my office. I put your name in for it. Isn't that great?” Her smile was strong, hands curling up as she shook them excitedly side to side.

  I tried to show some sign of excitement. “That's, that's good.” Desperately, I wanted to pull myself together.

  She moved her eyes to the clothes laid out on my bed. “Ooh, does someone have plans for the evening?”

  I shook my head yes, unable to speak.

  “I just told you I most likely got you a job, and it looks to me like you're getting ready for a hot night on the town, so why are you acting like someone died? What is going on?” she asked as she sat down next to me.

  I inhaled a rush of air. “Sara, you don't understand. I'm going out with that guy I mentioned to you before.”

  Her hands fell to her lap. “And? Why is that such a bad thing?”

  Here it is. This is my opening. If I didn't speak now, I might never tell her. Not until the baby was here, anyway.

  My eyes rose to focus on Sara. Licking my lips, I wished I had some water. My tongue was so thick and heavy, I was sure no words would come out. In spite of this, I found myself talking—before I was even ready. “I'm pregnant.”

  “Oh my god.” She stood and leaned against the bedroom wall, her hands clasping over her mouth as she inhaled a gulp of air. “Wow, you're pregnant! Pregnant! Whose baby is it?” I could hear the gossiper inside of her shining. My eyes shot her a glance, and immediately she understood. “It's his? The guy you crushed on at the prison?”

  “Yeah, I haven't slept with anyone else.” The magnitude of the situation made my body numb.

  “How far along are you?” The normal brightness of her eyes disappeared. Concern had turned her skin ashen.

  This is crazy! I can't even think straight. My eyes stared blankly into Sara's, I had no answer.

  Her body lowered against the wall until she squatted across from me, her chin resting on her fists. “Charlie, what are you going to do?”

  My mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. What can I even do? I fretted. Telling Owen opens so many doors, but they could all lead to destruction.

  Ignoring him means risking being a mom all alone.

  How can I fix this?

  What the hell can I do to make this all better?

  I don't... I...

  “Charlie!” Sara waved her hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. “Have you told him yet?”

  I shook my head no. “I don't know if I want to.”

  “Why would you not?” Anger and worry filled her voice. “You have to,” she said.

  “I don't know if he's father material. His past isn't the smoothest, he's had a few bumps along the way. I need to think about the baby, too. What if I have this baby and he just walks out one day?” I still wasn't ready to tell her who 'He' actually was.

  How do I tell this baby one day that their father is a killer, if I can't even tell Sara it's Owen's child?

  “That's not up to you, Charlie. That's up to him. What he decides to do with this whole thing is on him. But you need to give him that chance. It's only right.” She brought her arms up and crossed them over her chest. “Unless you're planning on a different option.”

  My eyes narrowed. “No. I could never.”

  “And you could never judge someone based on their past. I know you. Give him that chance. There was obviously something you liked about him.”

  When the words found their way in, it was the first bit of clarity I had felt in a while. A surge of excitement filled where panic had rested. My hand settled onto my stomach. She's right, he deserves to know.

  I'm having Owen's baby.

  I needed to give him that chance, the opportunity to be involved. I couldn't run from him, hiding from what fears lied within myself. It would be selfish to just out right deny this baby a father.

  “Charlie, I'm not going to judge you. Regardless of your decision, you'll do what ends up being right,” she said, laying her hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

  A smile broke across my face. “Thanks, I need to finish getting ready.”

  Letting me go, Sara grabbed something off the bed. “One more thing.” The black dress was tossed at me, covering my face and blinding me. “Wear this. You always looked good in black.”

  Minutes later I sat in the tub, the water hot against my skin. A bath always soothed my nerves.

  I moved my hands through the water, parting the bubbles. Pieces of my blushed flesh shined under the lights. My head rested against the cool porcelain, a clear image of Owen's face fixed in my mind.

  He's deep
er than most people would guess. I doubt anyone gives him a chance to show that side of him.

  He'd been closed off from the start, yet, with time, he'd taken down fragments of his walls for me.

  Owen was a man with a hard past...

  But maybe a bright future.

  And now we share a life.

  The soft tap of my finger against the tub was exaggerated by the tile around me.

  I knew what I had to do.

  ***

  The dulcet tones of the violin drifted into my ears as I opened the tall glass door of the restaurant. The hostess area was lightly lit with candles adorning several small shelves against the back wall.

  The floor, constructed of deep gray granite tiles, had a long floral runner ending at an elegant, handmade cherry podium.

  I wonder if he's going to think this place is too fancy? I wanted to take him out of his element a bit. See if the refined nature here bothered him. He didn't object when I called him and said to meet me at Capriani's, one of the more expensive places in town.

  That had to be a good sign.

  My anxiety began to set in at full force. I had arrived a few minutes early, wanting to have some time to settle in and calm my nerves.

  I can't believe I'm doing this! Dinner with Owen Jenkins, I never would have imagined this three months ago. A heavy breath pushed through my lips. I squeezed the small, red clutch in my hands and walked to the hostess.

  A zealous smile spread across the young woman's face. “Hello, welcome to Capriani's. Your guest has been very eager for you to arrive.”

  I looked at her, confused. “Wait, how do you know I'm here for someone in particular?”

  There is no way he is here already. She must have me mistaken for someone else.

  “I was given a very distinct description of who he was waiting for.” She held a menu up against her face as she spoke. “It also helped that he's been checking the front every few minutes and saw you pull in. Follow me.” Her smile never faded as she turned and entered the dining area.

  My eyes studied the room, the candle light flickering brightly against the shiny leather of the booths. Each table was ornate with a tall vase filled with purple orchids. The cloth napkins resting on the tables were folded into the shape of birds, their color matched the flowers in the center.

  As the hostess turned, I was struck by a sight I had never expected.

  There Owen was, sitting in the booth, looking like one of the men in a GQ magazine. A black blazer rested over his muscular torso, a white t-shirt underneath tight against his skin. I could make out each crease of his abs under the cotton.

  Oh my god. He looks incredible.

  His gaze fixated on me as I was led to him. He didn't mute his overt appreciation for how I looked; he ate me up from feet to lips with his hungry stare.

  He stood to greet me and my body began to warm, it was as if I had been out in the cold and was handed a hot drink. The heat poured over my insides, filling every space.

  “Hello, beautiful. You look amazing,” he said as he placed his hands around my wrists.

  “Thank you.” I didn't know what else to say.

  I don't know if I'll be able to tell him about the baby. I need to, but this is going to be hard.

  Just play it by ear. If it doesn't seem right, I won't tell him just yet.

  “Sit. I told you before, I don't bite.” He chuckled and led me into the booth.

  Neither of us uttered a word for several seconds. I looked down at my place setting and began to fidget with the silverware. I couldn't make eye contact with him. My stomach twisted and turned in every direction.

  I'm so ridiculously nervous! I want to vomit.

  Get a hold of yourself!

  “So,” he said in a husky tone, “I'm going to be honest. I think you look so god damn sexy right now.” He brought his finger up and brushed my hair behind my ear.

  My face flushed bright red, briefly my eyes reached his then looked across the room. I knew he was going to feel my nervousness, sense that I was unsure and afraid of what I was doing.

  Come on, Charlie, just say something. Anything.

  The silence that coated my tongue evaporated. “Well, you don't look so shabby yourself.”

  “I'd thought about just wearing my dirty work clothes. But, they didn't really match the shoes I wanted to wear.” He leaned back in his seat, the corners of his mouth raised up in amusement.

  That single motion brought me back to the prison, our meetings. How sure of himself he had been and still was. It's such a turn on to see him so confident.

  Before I could respond, the waiter walked up to our table bearing a full bottle of white wine. “Here you go, sir, our finest Chardonnay.” He lifted Owen's glass to pour it in. “Miss?”

  “Oh. No thank you. Water will be just fine.” I darted my eyes between Owen and the waiter.

  “What? No wine? This is a special occasion, live a little.” Owen lifted my glass to have it filled.

  “No, really. I'm all set.” I tried to remain natural. “Water is fine.”

  “Alright, so you're going to let me drink this whole bottle myself? Are you trying to get me wasted?” He wrinkled his forehead over my decline of the wine. “You want to take advantage of me, don't you?”

  “Yes, exactly. You figured me out.” I played into him a little. “I really want to get you so drunk I can do whatever I want to you.”

  I want to tell him the real reason I can't drink. I hated this game of lying.

  Suddenly, I noticed his view was concentrated on the large window behind me. For that moment he was no longer present at our table. I turned to see what he had been looking it.

  A large number of people, bundled up in winter gear, passed by. There seemed nothing unusual about the sight, but his eyes engulfed the dark figures on the sidewalk.

  Why is he looking so intensely out the window? It's a busy street, that's all.

  “You alright? What are you looking at?” Curiosity filled my voice.

  He shook his head and took a large gulp from his glass. “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. It's nothing. I thought... I thought I saw... never mind.”

  “Well then, tell me what you've been up to since you left Greene?” I asked.

  For most of dinner, conversation was good. The scared feelings had lifted for a time. He talked about his job at the shop, and wanting to maybe open up his own one day. He shared that he had been trying to save to buy a house and really wanted to do things 'differently' now that he had a fresh start.

  He seemed changed, more ambitious than I had expected.

  Maybe he has turned a new leaf. He has goals and desires.

  “Alright, enough about me. Tell me more about you. Anything good going on in the world of Charlie Laroche?”

  I think I should just tell him. Say it and get it over with. Holding it in is killing me inside, he needs to know.

  I have to tell him.

  With all the talking I've done as a therapist, finding a way to tell him the most world changing aspect to both our lives was non-existent. I physically could not place the words.

  What if he freaks out? I have no clue how he is going to react. The anxiety is actually hurting me inside. My chest is heavy and my entire body aches with fear.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, “There are things going on. I may have a new job soon, which is great.” I twisted my napkin in my hands. The sweat continued to form on my palms even with the cloth firmly gripped.

  “Are you still nervous about being around me?” he teased. “See, a little wine would soothe that. And so would a massage from me.” His grin was playful. “Here, have a sip of mine.”

  “No, really Owen, I can't.” My left leg begin to shake rapidly.

  “Look, I'm not trying to pressure you. I just want...”

  “I'm pregnant.” The words shot out across the table. For the first time that evening, my eyes remained frozen on his.

  Shit, it just spilled out of my mouth.

  Blankly, h
e stared at me. “What?” He looked lost, unsure of what he had heard.

  “I'm pregnant.” My mouth opened, shut, then opened again. “With your baby.” I looked into his face for some reaction. I had to know what it would be, even if it was awful.

  Owen's elbows rested on the table, he rubbed his forehead vigorously back and forth. His eyes were large, they drifted aimlessly around the room. Then, he leaned back forcefully into the booth, his arms flying up to cradle his neck.

  What is he thinking? Maybe I shouldn't have told him? Was this a mistake?

  Say something, anything! What is he going to do?

  “You're pregnant?” he asked slowly. “For real, you're not kidding.” Sitting there, he ran a palm over his jaw. “Fuck. Pregnant, I honestly didn't expect you to say that.”

  Alright, no yelling yet. He's still thinking, trying to understand this. Give him some time, let it set in.

  His fingers spread on the table. Owen bent closer, the centers of his eyes as deep and liquid as a star-covered galaxy. He was an enigma, his emotions bottled away so no one could reach them.

  I prepared myself for the worst. Get ready to grab your stuff and leave. I don't want a a scene.

  What had I been thinking? Of course Owen didn't want to be a father. His life had just begun again, what sane person wanted the responsibility of a baby thrown at them, now, of all times?

  He must hate me. I bet he's thinking I'm scum, or stupid, because I wasn't on birth control. But I wasn't planning on having sex! I didn't plan any of this! I...

  “You know what this means?” he asked, tension low in his throat.

  I said nothing, my hands balling in my lap as I waited for him to chew me out.

  Owen blinked, a seriousness touching his hard-lined mouth. “This means our lives just became one. If you thought you could get rid of me before, good luck trying now.”

  Every muscle in my body stiffened. “What?”

  “You have my baby inside of you, Charlie.” Nothing in his face said he was joking around. He was flat, severe, eyebrows low over his eyes. “You're mine. That baby is mine. I'm not leaving your side, you're stuck with me.”

  A ringing began in my ears. He's really serious.

  I was his? God, why did that make me tingle?

  He rested his head against his hands. “How long have you known?”