BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: PREGNANCY ROMANCE: Billionaire Mafia Boss’s Baby (Mafia Alpha Billionaire Romance) (Contemporary BBW New Adult Romance)

by Piper Sullivan

  “What’s got you so spaced out anyway?”

  “Oh, nothing really. Just need to get to the bathroom,” Angela said, rather coyly.

  Tyrel suddenly stepped out of her way. “Well, if you need to go that bad, let me not get in your way.”

  Angela blushed harder as she realized what he was thinking. “Oh, no!” She said animatedly, now waving her hands in total rejection of the idea. “It isn’t anything like that! I just needed to freshen up before my big show tonight.”

  Tyrel raised his eyebrows and made a sort of ‘what are you talking about?’ type of face. His face was awfully dreamy and the fact that he seemed to be perplexed by everything she was saying didn’t help Angela control the blood rushing to her cheeks, so she bit her lower lip as she tried to gain control of herself. It was just at that moment that she noticed he was carrying a trophy in his hand.

  “Oh my goodness! Look at me, telling you about my silly problems while you clearly have bigger things to think about.” Angela said, gesturing towards Tyrell’s prized possession.

  “Yeah, sure, cool. It’s not a big deal anyway,” Tyrell said, nonchalantly, although his grip tightened around his trophy. Then he a look of realization came over his face. “Oh, you’re that girl, the President’s daughter! I knew you looked familiar!” Tyrel exclaimed.

  Great, the shadow had caught up with her again. Angela didn’t believe their conversation would go anywhere, but she had hoped to be looked at as an individual for at least five minutes. Now, Tyrel had joined the long list of people that viewed her as nothing more than the daughter of the F.A’s president.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, facetiously.

  “You actually look fucking awesome in person,” Tyrel said, catching Angela completely off guard. “I mean I knew you were alright from the few times I spotted you from a distance next to him, but man, I never thought you were this appealing.”

  Tyrel Simmons, All Star, future Hall-of-Famer, Three Time Player of the Year, Purple Tigers Quarterback, had just told Angela that she was awesome and appealing in under a minute. Her cheeks were red now, and they were even starting to hurt a little, but who could blame her? She hadn’t heard compliments like these in forever, and she had never heard them from a man like Tyrel. A man who could get any woman in the world he wanted with the snap of his fingers, even if he did come off a bit arrogant. As far as Angela knew, it was one big name gorgeous celebrity on his arm after another. He had no time to think of, or be attracted to, mere mortals like her. So what was the deal here? Maybe he just hit on every female he met.

  “I’ve got a team to get back to, so I’ll see you around,” Tyrell said. It was then that Angela realized more than a few heartbeats had passed and she herself had come off rude to Tyrel. His compliments had literally dumbfounded her.

  “I’m so sorry, my head’s just in a million places right now.” She apologized reverently. “Maybe we can catch up after dinner is served? That’s if you’re not too busy, with the press and all. Oh wait, you just won player of the season, of course you’ll be busy. Never mind, the idea was stupid anyway.” Angela was talking rapidly now, Tyrel’s aura felt like it was crawling under her skin. Did she really just ask him out?

  “I do have stuff to deal with after this,” Tyrel said. “But I’m around for a while, we’ll see what happens. I haven’t been one to turn down an invite from a pretty lady before.”

  He winked at her.

  “Yeah, sure.” Was all Angela could manage to say, the moment was overwhelming her. All she had wanted to do was get to the bathroom and have a breather! Tyrel’s tension filled appearance hadn’t helped her in the slightest. Just then, Angela felt Tyrel’s hand hold her chin up, bringing her eyes directly in line with his deep, blue and mysterious eyes. His face looked like it had been carved by the greatest of artists. His blonde, slick hair, cut with the proficiency reserved by high end barbers for only their supermodel clients, gave him a brooding air of mystery that gave her chills, but not the scary kind. Her lips parted slightly as she let out what felt like her last bit of air, she had no idea what was going on.

  “Ease up and take it easy, okay?” He said, and he gave her a smile that made her feel like death could not come at a better moment. There was nothing she wanted more in the world than for Tyrel to keep smiling at her. His smile made her feel like the most treasured jewel in the history of mankind.

  “I will,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. He let go of her, slowly letting his fingertips brush against her chin, and with a brusque movement, he was gone. His powerful, freshly ground tobacco-like scent the only remaining proof of what Angela was already beginning to feel was an imagined moment. But deep down she knew it couldn’t have been imagined. Her mind, even in its finest moments, could not come up with a specimen as fine as Tyrel Simmons.

  ***

  “Shit,” Tyrel muttered under his breath. He set his glass down, it was empty of its contents for the umpteenth time that night. He put it down with such a force that he almost broke it. He slapped his palm against his forehead, trying to come to terms with his level of disorientation. The room was slightly fuzzy and his head was throbbing.

  He looked around the place, most of the people that had come to attend the Sports Gala had left the premises, and the last few people, mostly his teammates, were all that was left. He felt a slight wave tease itself at the pit of his tummy. This was going to get ugly fast, and he needed to find the bathrooms, but where were they? In his state of inebriation, his navigation skills were close to zero.

  “Tyler, let me help you get to your hotel!” Lindsay, his date, pleaded. She was a pretty girl with light blonde hair with pale pink strands highlighting it.

  “Do me a favor would you?” drunk Tyrel slurred. “Leave me the fuck alone!” Tyrel knew what her end game was. She was an upcoming model and if she could take a selfie taking care of an intoxicated Tyrel, she would achieve instant fame. Not on his watch though, he just needed some water, a place to sit, and the damn bathroom! Where was it?

  “Don’t be such an ass, Tyrel,” Lindsay whined. “Come on now, let’s go.” She tugged on his arm. He had his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thoroughly inked arms. He had gotten his first tattoo at the age of seventeen, and had gone crazy with ink ever since.

  He groaned, pulling his hand away from her. “I think you should go up to your room Lindsay. Without me” he said. Tyrel turned around and looked for a place to sit, and he found one. They were in the restaurant of the plaza, and he had just finished his whiskey bottle that was now empty on a table. Some of his teammates had consumed it with him of course, but the ever so heroic Tyrel had done most of the damage himself, and he wasn’t going to get the babysitter treatment from some camera-hungry girl. No, he was going to fight through this. Nothing ever got Tyrel down.

  Lindsay gave him a look over, and figured she had better things to do than try so hard to help him. “Your life would be so much easier if you weren’t such an asshole, you know?” she remarked.

  Tyrel just mumbled unintelligent words and slumped back into a seat. Lindsay stormed off. Tyrel went back to his sole mission of trying to find a bathroom. As he tried to remember his last trip there, he had a sudden vivid flashback of meeting Angela earlier that night.

  In his drunken stupor, it shocked him how much he had actually enjoyed being around her. The food they served had been great come to think of it, and she deflected most of his arrogance with ease. She wasn’t like all the girls he knew that were trying to use him for some means of success, she seemed like she was just making small talk, and she didn’t have to come up with a way to get something out of him. She was also so focused on making a name for herself outside of her father that Tyrel couldn’t help but be impressed by her. She wasn’t looking to use her status for her own gain. It was a characteristic Tyrel admired. Was there any reason for him to be thinking of her right now? There didn’t seem to be. Tyrel hardly thought of anyone but himself, but right now, she would probably
be able to help him find the bathrooms, so it wouldn’t hurt to see her.

  “Tyrel, are you okay?” a voice suddenly broke his thoughts. He wanted to curse at whoever it was, and tell them to leave him alone, but his voice got stuck somewhere in his throat when he realized it was Angela.

  “I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his face and trying to straighten up. His effort to appear more decent now that Angela was near him made him feel like puking even more. Since when did he care about how he appeared to any woman? Angela’s piercing blue eyes scanned him, she had let her blonde hair down and the stunning evening gown she was wearing hugged her thick and curvy body. Tyrel dated mostly model-type women, and the fact that he had never had someone as wholesome as Angela started to give his sloshed mind ideas it had never conceived before.

  “Well, if you say so,” Angela said, even though she was evidently concerned. “I’ve got some time to myself now, everyone’s leaving and I told my dad to let me have some alone time to cool off. Would you like to hang out?”

  Tyrel would have loved to hang with her – about thirty minutes ago. Now he had too much alcohol to function properly, he just needed to get to the bathroom.

  “Listen, could you help me find the bathroom?” he asked her. He wondered why he would trust her with the task, but if anyone could help him now, it was the last person he met at the bathrooms. Drunk logic ruled.

  “Sure,” Angela said, even though her invitation for a hangout seemed to go unnoticed. She held out her hand, and Tyrel placed his own tattooed one in hers. His right arm had the stitches you find on top of a football inked into it. A cliché tattoo, but a testament of his passion for the sport.

  He got up, staggering slightly, but he was now determined to sober up. He wasn’t going to let himself be too drunk and show Angela any weaknesses that might be lurking just because her lovely lavender scent was now filling his nostrils and making the blood rush to his manhood.

  At that moment, Angela slipped his hand over her shoulder. It wasn’t a let-me-carry-you type of shoulder sling, it was a strategic one, just enough to aid his walking, but not too much to make him feel like he was depending on her. If anything, it felt like she was snuggling up to him. Normally, he would throw her off, but for the moment she was his bathroom guide, so he let it slide.

  They walked pretty much in silence until they got to the bathrooms, where Angela lifted his arm off her and gestured to the door. “Here we are.”

  “Oh no, you’re my trusted helper now. You got yourself into this mess, what’s your name again?” Tyler asked, as if he didn’t know, flashing a wicked smile. He was starting to feel like the night was realigning itself again.

  “It’s Angela.”

  “Yeah, Angela. Finish what you started!” Tyrel dared her.

  Her cheeks started to turn red, and there it was again. In this exact spot earlier that night, Tyrel had watched her cheeks constantly flare into such an appealing and provoking color that he had to contain himself by letting out all the built up energy she was creating by tightening his grip around his trophy. When she bit her lip before talking, it had just made it all the worse. She looked so tender, his wolf like instincts had just wanted to rip her out of her dress and have his way with her, but she was the president’s daughter and giving her his usual dog treatment would cause such a spin in the sports media that he wouldn’t enjoy the backlash. Even if he didn’t feel like he was susceptible to anything bad happening to him, given how crucial he was to his own team, the president of the Association was having his term in office scrutinized. With a few months left on his current term, he would do anything to be re-elected, a point Tyrel’s father, the Billionaire owner of the Purple Tigers Football Team, kept reminding him every time Tyrel seemed to be getting into trouble.

  “I can wait for you outside you know,” Angela said. “Who knows what unspeakable things a drunk football player can do in a restroom?” she teased.

  “I’m not drunk!” Tyrel protested, almost laughing at himself for how stupid a lie that was. “Besides, I’m classier than that. I treat my women with more respect.”

  “Your women? Do you own them?” Angela asked, looking into his eyes with more confidence now. Tyrel couldn’t tell whether she was growing in confidence because he was drunk, or if he was just imagining it all.

  “I don’t own any of them, but most of them sure do act like they’re for sale,” he said ostentatiously.

  “Well, I bet they do, but I’m not for sale,” Angela said, poking him right in the middle of his chest with her index finger.

  “I know you’re not,” Tyrel said, grabbing her hand and pulling her in closer. “That’s why I’m letting you help me.” His face was now inches away from hers, and their eyes were locked. She looked at his lips, then back into his eyes. Her eyes seemed to suggest that her mind was reeling with options, options he couldn’t read. He couldn’t find the usual lust or calculation he found in the eyes of all the women he had taken to bed. All he could find in her deeply beautiful eyes was wonder, and curiosity. It killed him that she wasn’t entirely under his power yet. She seemed like she had a will stronger than anything he had encountered before.

  “Well then, how can I help you?” she said in a lower voice, stressing the word help suggestively, making Tyrel’s blood rush even more intense. “Would you like me to hold your hair up while you puke, big boy?” she teased, letting her finger trail through his slick blond hair.

  “Don’t mess with my hair!” he said, deflecting her sudden advance. It had made him feel like he was the prey. Tyrel had never felt like prey in his entire life, he was the predator. He was the one who took what he wanted, when he wanted. He knew right now that he wanted her, but he was far too used to everything being on his terms that he didn’t know what to do with Angela.

  Angela gave out a slight chuckle. “I thought you wanted my help?”

  Tyrel felt cornered, so he followed his instincts. He took her by the wrists of both of her hands assertively, guided her body across a foot or so and pressed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head, moving his face inches from hers. The sudden show of dominance made Angela gasp, her breath was minty fresh on Tyrel’s flaring nostrils, arousing him even more. He could feel her body slightly shiver against his muscular torso, and he felt like he was in control again.

  “I’m Tyrel fucking Simmons, I don’t need your help,” he jeered, so close to her face that their noses were practically brushing against each other. Angela seemed rattled now, her chest was now breathing heavier against his. He swore he could almost feel her nipples go erect under her dress.

  “Is this how you treat your women?” she managed to ask after a few moments.

  Tyrel thought about this for a split second, but he had enough alcohol to not care about any consequences.

  “No, this is how I fucking treat ‘em” and he crushed his mouth against hers. He could feel the shock in her as she tried to respond to his kiss, but within moments she was a fully willing participant. Tyrel could feel the power now, coursing through his veins, ripe as ever, and so he let his tongue force its way into her mouth, and her lips parted obligingly. The kiss was violent, raw, passionate and intense. Tyrel let go of her wrists and let his hands wonder down to her neck, as she let her own hands rustle through his super model hair cut then wrap around his neck as their tongues twisted and wrestled. Within a few moments, Tyrel’s hands were latching at her exquisite, salacious thighs and he used his massive strength to lift her onto the wall, a feeling she clearly wasn’t used to as she gave out a slight yelp mid-kiss. Then, when Tyrel’s cock was fully incensed, she broke the kiss and pushed him away.

  “This can’t happen like this,” she said, catching her breath.

  “Come on, it’s already happening,” Tyrel protested, bending his head and giving her neck a light kiss. She moaned, but she prevailed against her weaknesses for him and pushed him off, making him put her back down on her feet.

  “I’m not that type of girl,”
Angela said, putting her dress back together.

  “I know you’re not,” Tyrel said, then words he thought he would never say to a woman in his life came out. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

  Angela looked at him in shock. She was just as surprised as he was that he was apologizing! “It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t mean it. You’re drunk.”

  As if this moment wasn’t shocking enough, Tyrel fell even deeper into this seemingly bottomless pit of uncomfortable feelings when he realized that he was bothered by her classifying the electric moment they just had as him simply being drunk.

  “No, I’m not drunk. I mean I am but that’s not the reason I kissed you!” Tyrel objected. He took a few steps back, feeling overwhelmed by the passion of the moment. Tyrel only knew how to handle moments that ended when bodies separated from each other, he never had to deal with an aftermath like this.

  “Why did you kiss me then?” Angela said, staring him down, searching for a meaningful answer. Tyrel couldn’t handle all of this at once, he looked for the words to calm her down, but none came to mind, so he said nothing. “I thought so. I have to go.” Angela said.

  “Wait, don’t go!” Tyrel stood in her way as she started to storm off. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. How can I make it up to you?”

  Tyrel couldn’t believe he actually cared about hurting Angela’s feelings.

  “Come on Tyrel, you barely know me. I don’t think you’ll even remember this in the morning, so what’s it to you?” Angela quirked.

  “Angela, you’re the type of girl I’d never forget. Let’s have lunch together, I’ll be sober and I can prove it!” Tyrel offered. Angela seemed caught off guard by this remark, she looked like she was weighing her options in her head, so Tyrel added more leverage to his argument, “You’re not just a boss that screams orders at the kitchen staff right? You can cook? The food tonight was great! Let’s have lunch at my place. You could come over and cook some lunch, we could even do it together!”