Knocked Up by the Beast: A Mafia Romance (Kingdoms Book 1)

by Aria R. Blue

  “Having the Italians on our side would definitely help, but you and I both know that we’re just going to end up fighting the Italians too,” I say.

  That’s what happens when there’s a power imbalance.

  Everybody will grab as much of it as possible, and that’s when disagreements break out. We don’t need to pretend to be friends with the Italians only to end up fighting them too.

  “I still believe it’ll solidify our chances of winning,” Father says.

  “That’s true,” I sigh. “But I’m not going to drag Luna into this, so this is not an option. If you have any other idea to strengthen our forces and win this, I’m all ears.”

  “I’m meeting with Maxim Reznikov tomorrow morning. Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Just come to the meeting. He hasn’t seen you in a while.”

  “Dad, you’re going to war with this man. And you’re still talking about him like he’s an old friend.”

  “He’s going to war with me, and he is an old friend. Who would be happy to see you in the city after such a long time. Maybe it’ll convince him to call off the war.”

  “This makes no sense,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t get it. There are people in our- I mean, your own ranks that hate me for leaving. Why would you want me to come with you for a meeting?”

  Father straightens to his full height. He’s a big man.

  I might have my mother’s dark gold hair and blue eyes, but the rest of me is a mirror image of my father.

  Together, we take up a lot of space.

  Together, we can intimidate.

  “We used to rule the city together, Leo. People used to bow down at our feet. With you, I get to show them the power of the Blackwood’s. Of what we once were and what we could be again. We need to show them that we don’t back down from a fight. And we sure as hell are capable of holding our own. When we show up together, we’ll inject fear into their veins.”

  “Fear could be our weapon,” I whisper.

  “Exactly. When we have them on edge, they’ll be making foolish decisions. Costly mistakes. That’s how we get the upper hand. They’ll be puppets on a string for us after that.”

  “Wow, you’ve really thought this through, huh,” I say, shaking my head.

  I have no interest in meeting with the mob families, but avoiding this war would mean that I would get to live in peace with Belle.

  And to protect her, I would gladly give up my pride.

  “Are you in?” Father asks.

  “I’m in,” I say. “What time?”

  “Ten thirty. Lincoln Park.”

  “I’ll be there,” I say, getting up to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Father asks, getting up as well.

  “I’m staying at the Ritz,” I answer.

  “Nonsense, you’re coming home.”

  I shrug my black jacket on, and adjust my mask. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad.”

  30

  Leo

  A face only a mother could love.

  I look at myself in the hotel mirror. Winter sunlight pours through the windows, lighting up my face.

  Every blemish and every discoloration is highlighted.

  The mask that I use to cover the ruined part of my face is in my right hand. I debate not wearing it today.

  Belle wouldn’t want me to.

  If she were here right now, she’d tell me that I didn’t need to wear it. That I didn’t need to hide.

  She’s been a source of strength for me.

  When I was around her, I didn’t feel self-conscious about my face for even a second. She never made me feel like I was inadequate in any way.

  Because of her, I was a stronger person from within.

  But hiding is an old habit.

  My fingers tremble as I place the black mask over my face. It makes me look even more intimidating.

  Good.

  That’s what I was going for anyway.

  I’m dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark blue dress pants. My brown wingtip shoes add to the ensemble.

  Nobody would ever guess that I’m off to meet the pakhan, the boss, of the Russian crime family.

  But that’s how it is.

  Families like mine infiltrate the entire city by blending in. We rule the city, but we look just like everybody else.

  I grab the keys to my rental, and head to the hotel’s parking lot.

  A man in a suit is standing right in front of my rented Cadillac. He takes his sunglasses off as I approach, and squints at me.

  I halt a few feet away from him, already reaching for the handgun at the back of my waistband.

  “Your father sent me,” he announces before I can pull the gun out.

  “Why?”

  “He wanted me to give you this,” he says, holding something out towards me, and taking a few tentative steps forward.

  Car keys.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “He also wanted me to give you this,” he says, opening his arm towards the car right next to my rented one.

  It’s a brand new Mercedes-Maybach sedan.

  So sleek that it looks more like a yacht than a car. Along with the armor plating I’m sure it’s fortified with, I know it must have cost a fortune.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter, already dialing my father’s phone number.

  He picks up instantly. “I was waiting for your call.”

  “Haven’t you changed at all?” I spit out.

  “What?” Hurt laces his voice. But he recovers almost instantly. “It’s for your own protection. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t like it. But as long as you’re in Chicago, I want you to drive in one of my cars.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” I say.

  He waits for me to elaborate. When I don’t, he sighs. “Then?”

  “Never mind,” I say. And because my mother taught me better, I say, “Thank you for the car.”

  I hang up and stare at my phone.

  He truly has no idea.

  He has no clue how much I despise the way he throws money at all of his problems.

  It started with my mother. He was never there, but he sent lavish gifts to the estate all the time.

  And then it was me.

  I never had someone to teach me how to play baseball, but I got thick envelopes with hundred-dollar bills on my birthdays to ‘buy myself a present.’

  After my mother passed away, I moved to Chicago.

  My father and I bonded a little then, but I saw how he silenced the police and turned enemies into allies with his money.

  It made me sick.

  Because I realized that he had done the same thing with me. I was a problem, and he dealt with that problem by throwing money at it.

  But I have to admit though, the Maybach-Mercedes is a beauty and a beast.

  Sexy interiors and a bulletproof exterior.

  I thank the hefty man in the suit, and take the car.

  It’s a smooth ten-minute drive to the Lincoln Park neighborhood. I pass through quiet residential streets with brick row houses and small boutiques.

  All the while, I count to ten.

  Over and over again.

  And I think about who I’m doing this for.

  After this is all over, I can live my life in uninterrupted peace.

  The Blackwood men are already gathered at the specified location.

  All of them turn when I join them. Some walk over to greet me. Some nod. Others don’t bother to hide their distaste.

  My father joins us a minute later.

  10.29 a.m.

  He slaps me on the back. “I’m glad you came.”

  The Russians arrive on the dot. 10.30 a.m.

  All of us gather in the public park like we’re about to have a giant picnic. All the suits and muscle makes some heads turn, but we could just as easily be a bunch of businessmen discussing a deal.

  Chins are lifted proudly.

  There are no greetings. W
e just stare each other down for a full minute.

  The boss of the Russian mob is the first to speak. “How nice of you to join us, Leo.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” I reply, looking straight at his son, Dimitri Reznikov.

  He was the one who called me the morning after I got shot. He told me about the war, and said that it wouldn’t be pretty for any of the Blackwood’s involved, including me.

  “Didn’t you fly away from your nest, little birdie?” Dimitri taunts.

  He’s still a boy, barely old enough to drink legally. But he’s been a pain in the ass for as long as I can remember.

  “Why don’t you let the grown-ups talk first, da?” I reply, turning back to his father with a strained smile.

  The pakhan raises his eyebrows, and ignores both of us. He turns to my father. “Why did you call for a meeting, Anthony?”

  “Peace. We had that in the past, we can have it in the future too,” Dad says, holding out his palms. “We’ve been working together for decades, Maxim. And look at how well we’ve done.”

  “I thought the same, but you just had to go and steal my territory and my shipments. It’s only because you kept interfering with my business repeatedly that I had to do what I did. For your sake, I hope it’s been worth it.”

  “We run the city together, Maxim. It’s what works for us. Let’s keep doing more of what’s already working.”

  “It’s not working for me. So unless you stop interfering with my shipments and my territory, I won’t call this off.”

  Father stares at the man who was almost a friend to him.

  The Russians used to mind their own business. The Italians had their own thing going. And the Blackwoods kept the Russians and the Italians from killing each other.

  Our three families were messy as hell, but we made it work.

  By going to war with us, the Russians are shattering the very foundation on which this city stands.

  “Those drugs were unrefined. Too pure for use. Dozens of kids could have died.”

  “Those kids know the risk,” Maxim says.

  “We’re criminals, not monsters,” my father reminds him. “Since we’re the ones supplying, we have an obligation to at least provide safe stuff.”

  “It’s not just about the shipments,” Maxim says. “There was that time two years ago when you…”

  I tune out the conversation soon after that.

  I already know that no amount of talking today is going to resolve any conflict.

  The Russians want power.

  And to get that power, they want a war.

  Both of our men will be killed in this fight for power, but only one family will end up victorious.

  And my job is to make sure that the Blackwood’s win.

  I cross my arms over my chest, and stay until they finish talking. We’re the first to walk away.

  Father doesn’t look back even once.

  They had argued until they were close to spitting on each other’s faces, but he looks tranquil now. Like it’s his first day of a vacation, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

  “Aren’t you worried?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.

  He turns to me. “We’re the Blackwood’s. We gave them multiple opportunities to back away. If they still want to fight us, then that’s their mistake.”

  I nod. “We better win this then.”

  “Don’t we always?” Father says, waving his bodyguards off. They give us privacy, and it’s just him and me now.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” he says cryptically.

  We walk down the Lakefront trail next to Lake Michigan.

  He buys two sandwiches for us on the way, and we walk in silence until we see the blue of the beach.

  North Avenue Beach.

  “We used to come here all the time,” I say, kind of surprised that he remembers. This was our spot.

  “You used to run away from home, and I would always know where to find you,” Father chuckles.

  I glance at him.

  He’s a killer and a gangster, but so was I.

  He’s not perfect, and neither am I.

  A strange fondness fills up a part of me that I hadn’t realized was empty. A spot only the love of a parent can fill.

  He continues, “I would always find you with your toes buried in the sand, and ice cream melting down your hands.”

  “Chocolate-chip mint,” I say. The memories come flashing back. “And then you would sit down next to me and ask why I didn’t invite you.”

  “Those were the days,” sighs Father.

  We leaned on each other then. After mother died, she left a gaping hole in both of our hearts.

  I would come to the beach every time I missed her. Father would join me and we helped mend each other’s hearts.

  “I never told you this, but this is where I first saw your mother.”

  I whip my head to face him. “She was in Chicago?”

  “Nearly forty years ago. She was visiting an aunt of hers who wanted to show her the city.”

  Father turns around and so do I.

  He points to a strip of land in front of the beach.

  “Your Mom was sitting on her white bike right there. And this is where I was standing,” he says, nodding at the ground beneath our feet now. “She had her eyes closed, soaking up the sunshine. I recall being jealous of the Sun in that moment. And then she blew past me, a blur of blonde hair and yellow dress. I thought to myself, I would follow that girl to the ends of the earth.”

  “That’s not what happened though,” I say.

  There’s no hate in my words, just facts. He wasn’t there for her when she needed him most.

  He looks at me for a long moment.

  And he says, “You have to understand, Leo. There are some things in life that I wish I had done differently. I wish I could turn back time, and get a do-over. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?”

  I don’t give him a reply.

  He continues, “There is something I really admire about you. You know what you want in life. I didn’t have that clarity. I couldn’t choose between my woman and my family. It was an either-or situation—Maisie didn’t want anything to do with my life in Chicago, and I didn’t know a life outside of Chicago. As a result, I was never fully committed to either.”

  I feel emotions choking up my throat.

  I already know how this story ends.

  Eager to change the topic, I ask, “What was the first thing you said to her that day?”

  He grins as his mind takes him back to a happier place. “I was used to barking orders at criminals every day, but when it came to her, I became speechless. I couldn’t get myself to approach her that day. I put all of my work on hold, and followed her around like a lost puppy for the next two weeks. I had her entire schedule memorized. Mornings riding her bike down the Lakefront Trail, lunch at the rooftop restaurant overlooking the beach, evenings spent strolling and visiting bookstores.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Some people might call that stalker behavior.”

  “I was crazy about her.” He shrugs unabashedly. “It wasn’t until I found out she was leaving the city that I mustered up my bravado and finally approached her. I was nervous as hell, but she greeted me with warmth.”

  Warmth.

  Yeah, that’s my mother all right.

  She had this vibe about her that made you want to tell her all of your problems. And she was that way with everybody.

  “And you know the rest,” he says, sucking in a breath.

  “Do you regret it?” I whisper. “Meeting her?”

  “She was the best thing to have ever happened to me. If anything, I regret not being around more. But I can’t change the past. I’ve made my mistakes, and I have to live with them. Still, your mother is a blessing to everyone lucky enough to have crossed paths with her.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

 
; He turns so that he’s fully facing me. He looks me straight in the eyes as he says, “I want your forgiveness, Leo.”

  31

  Belle

  1 month later

  * * *

  “You haven’t touched your food,” Julie remarks.

  “I’m not that hungry,” I say, moving my food around on the plate.

  “Is it the food?” she asks for the thousandth time. “I can learn to cook better for you. Or we could try new recipes. That could be fun.”

  “It’s not that, Julie,” I say, glancing at the basement door.

  Papa is downstairs, working on some project of his. We barely ever see him these days.

  The only time he comes out is when he has to grab some food from the kitchen.

  Hazel’s chair scrapes as she gets up. She quietly walks to the kitchen.

  I stare after her listlessly.

  I’ve been blue these past few days.

  I miss Leo. I miss his voice, his touch, his love. I miss being held in his arms like a baby.

  There hasn’t been a single phone call or e-mail from him.

  Nothing.

  It’s almost like he had forgotten that I ever even existed in his life. Sometimes I wonder if he misses me even half as much as I miss him.

  Hazel emerges, holding a small plate with a big slice of blueberry shortcake pie.

  Julie bangs her fist on the table and exclaims, “You told me there was none left.”

  Hazel shrugs, and bites back a smile as she places it in front of me. She knows that I’m craving fruit-based desserts lately.

  The baby growing inside me has a major sweet tooth.

  “Always room for dessert,” I say happily, switching from beans to pie.

  I carve out a small portion of my slice and look at Julie. Her eyes light up when she sees that the end of my fork is pointed at the small chunk of pie.

  “You’re the best, Belle,” she says, already popping it into her mouth and finishing it off before I can change my mind.

  There’s a knock at the front door.

  My heart skips a beat.

  The last time we had an unexpected visitor, it was Zelda with her kind words. Is she here to talk to me again?