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

by Aria R. Blue

  “What makes you think that I can’t do both?”

  “What makes you want to do both?”

  “Now, that’s a question I actually want to answer. I’ve always been fascinated by this world, Leo. It’s something I’ve craved my entire life, but never had. Loyalty, trust, family. I can find it all here.”

  I take a deep breath before I answer. “All of it comes at a price. It will be a crippling burden on your shoulders for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”

  Her green eyes blaze. “I only want your advice when I ask for it, Leo. And I’m not asking for your advice or permission right now. Also, what is that smell?”

  I smell it too.

  It’s the same scent that I’ve been inhaling all day. The burning buildings and the smoke rising off them.

  Only now, I smell it inside my house.

  I run out of the room we’re in, following the scent.

  The black cherry tree. It’s in flames.

  And the tree is so large that its branches have spread directly over the roof. Any second now, one of those branches could fall on the house and set the whole damn house on fire.

  “Fire,” I shout, running back into the room where my family is.

  Dad is running around, removing all of my mother's photos and throwing them into a cardboard box. Ivy is staring after him with wide eyes.

  “There’s no time for that. Let’s go,” I say, kicking open the window that faces the back porch.

  Glass shatters. We have a way out.

  Something falls on the roof with a heavy thud—one of the branches.

  I know that this isn’t a natural fire.

  The tree has probably been doused in inflammable material. It’s prone to spread rapidly.

  I turn to my family.

  Dad is still clawing at the walls in a frenzy, trying to save all of his beloved photographs. Tears are streaming down his eyes.

  My father is a big man.

  Over six feet tall, massive build, hard eyes.

  Seeing him like this makes something break in my heart.

  His whole face is red, and he keeps screaming, “Not the pictures. Not the pictures. They’re all I have left.”

  Ivy is staring at him with glassy eyes.

  “Ivy,” I say gently. “We need to go.”

  “We can’t leave him behind,” she pleads.

  “We won’t,” I promise. “I’ll carry him out if I have to. But I want you to go first, okay?”

  She looks torn, but she nods.

  I help her get out through the window without scraping against any of the glass shards.

  She takes a deep breath to steady herself and says, “I’ll be waiting for you on the street. I’ll call the fire station and alert the neighbors.”

  In that moment, I see a leader in her.

  She’s still a kid, and probably always will be in my eyes, but she can take charge in the middle of chaos. She can keep a level head and make rational decisions even when the house is on fire. Literally.

  She’d be a valuable addition to the Blackwood Crime Family.

  I curse myself for even thinking that.

  “Good,” I nod, and turn back to Dad.

  His cardboard box is full now, and he’s stuffing all the pictures into his pockets, filling his arms with them.

  “Dad, the house is on fire,” I say, choking over the words.

  I’ve never seen him like this.

  He’s a mob boss. They don’t get emotional or run around trying to preserve something that’s about to burn anyway.

  But right now, he’s just…human.

  So I help him.

  I help him gather some more pictures, especially the ones I liked the most—where my mother is laughing and having a good time. I’ve only seen her laugh like that in these frozen photographs. It’s how I want the generations that come after me to remember her.

  These are the pictures I want to show Belle one day.

  The smoke is getting thicker now, almost to the point of suffocating.

  It’s raining debris all around us.

  Another branch could fall right through the roof above, killing us instantly or trapping us in flames. But I don’t let myself consider that.

  For the next few seconds, I help my Dad gather all the pictures of my Mom.

  A full minute passes.

  Seconds of the next minute start to tick.

  Before I know it, I find myself wanting to get all of them. I don’t want any of my mother’s photos to go up in flames.

  It’s not right.

  I should only leave after I get them all.

  I remove my jacket, and use it to gather all the photos, scraping at the walls furiously. The smoke is making it harder and harder to breathe, but I push through it.

  Almost done.

  A hand squeezes my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Son, the house is on fire,” Dad says, his eyes no longer hollow.

  “I-I’m almost done,” I say. There are just a few more pictures I need to get to.

  “I’m not losing another person I care about,” he grinds out.

  And then he grabs me by my earlobe, and drags me away from the walls. He lets go when I start walking on my own.

  He’s established his authority over me, and now, I follow him as he leads me out.

  “Go,” he says.

  I climb through the window, not caring that the broken glass digs into my hands. It can’t compare with the pain in my heart.

  Sirens are ringing.

  The fire engine approaches as we walk out to the front of the house.

  The black cherry tree with the bare branches. The yellow flames on it reach upward, trying to kiss the sky.

  Like it's been waiting for us to say farewell, it takes a final bow before it falls majestically. It crumbles all the way down right in front of our eyes.

  The fire engine stops in front of our house. Men rush inside, shouting orders and already hard at work.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Dad says, shaking his head. The way he says it makes shivers run down my spine.

  “Here,” I say, giving him my jacket. It contains all the pictures I managed to salvage.

  The heat from the fire acts as a giant furnace, warming my skin.

  Dad gingerly takes the pictures from me, swallowing hard. “There’s so many more in there,” he says.

  “We did what we could,” I say.

  The house itself is worth a few million dollars. I’ve already seen that it has priceless sculptures and art that my father must have paid a pretty penny for.

  But the only thing we wanted to save were these photographs.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispers again.

  “Of course not,” I say. “They went too far this time.”

  “I don’t think it’s the Reznikov’s.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “It’s not their style. They don’t attack personal residences or family members. They know all too well that we could do it right back. I know where every single one of them lives. I could burn their homes down without lifting a finger. They’re foolish, but not reckless.”

  Foolish but not reckless.

  I know only one person who’s capable of being reckless. A man with a bleeding heart.

  Nicolo.

  The Italians.

  I scan the roads until I find what I’m looking for.

  The black monster SUV. A hand reaches out from the driver’s side window before it disappears back inside.

  Gritting my teeth, I walk towards it.

  There’s no smug smile on his face. His eyes are downcast. He merely shrugs. “You left me no choice, comrade.”

  And just like that, the years of friendship we had threatens to snap.

  “This is how you try to convince me?” I spit out.

  “Asking nicely didn’t seem to work,” he says.

  I reach in through the window and grab his collar.


  The men sitting in the back seats raise their guns. Nico flicks his wrist, and the firearms drop.

  I don’t let go of his collar though. “What. The fuck. Man.”

  “I’m dying without her,” he says. “I don’t care if it makes me look weak. I don’t even care if you kill me right now. All I know is that I need her.”

  I shove at his chest, and let go of his shirt.

  What is it about love that drives people to the brink of insanity?

  Nicolo Monte is a Capo.

  A boss. Not the boss, but he’s one of the most valuable men of the Italian Mafia.

  And he’s brought down to his knees by a girl.

  Under different circumstances, I would’ve felt sympathy. But there’s nothing but pure, unending fury running through my veins right now.

  I count to ten in my head. When I’m done, I barely recognize my own voice as I say, “My father and my sister were inside that house. You could’ve hurt them.”

  “Why do you think I’m here, Leo?” he answers.

  “I don’t know. I was wondering that myself.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wanted to hurt your family.”

  I think this through.

  His car is parked almost right in front of the burning house. He set fire to it, but he did it in such a way that we had plenty of time to get out.

  The fire spread slowly, from the tree branches to the roof to the inside of the house.

  If he really wanted to hurt us, he would have had an explosive device set up inside the house itself. It would have left no trace behind either.

  But still, he fucking set our roof on fire.

  “This is another one of your games?” My breathing is fast and shallow. My fingers curl into fists.

  I need to punch something. My ex-best friend’s nose looks like an excellent target.

  “Not a game,” he says. “I did what I had to do to get your attention.”

  I can’t anymore.

  I swing my arm. Bone crunches under my fist, and I pull away even though I want to keep hammering at his nose until it’s pulp.

  His soldiers have their guns up again, but Nico lifts a hand.

  A silent order not to shoot.

  “I guess I deserved that,” he says.

  I watch as he slowly pulls out a handkerchief, and wipes the blood away like he’s dabbing bread crumbs from his lips.

  “There are other ways to get my attention,” I say. “Like actually talking to me.”

  The last time I saw him was when I first came to the city, about a month ago.

  All he wanted to talk about was Luna. His wife is living in my estate, and that infuriates him.

  But he deserves her silent treatment.

  “Seriously, what is wrong with you, man?” I say, watching his handkerchief stain red all the way through. “That house meant a lot to my Dad.”

  “My wife is my whole life. I’ve told you this before, and I’ll tell you again—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  “Don’t make this about her. This is all about you, Nico.”

  “She needs me just as much as I need her.”

  “Really? She seems to be pretty happy without you.” A lie. She’s not as miserable as him, but she’s not exactly joyful either.

  “You’re lying,” he says, searching my face desperately.

  He hasn’t moved on, and it’s likely that he never will. He’s hoping that she still feels the same way about him too.

  “It’s been two years, Nico,” I sigh.

  “I’ll wait for her for the rest of my life if I have to. Time doesn’t mean anything. Leo, please. I just need to talk to her.”

  Not this again.

  I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now.

  We stare each other down, neither of us backing up.

  Nico is the one to avert his eyes first. He puts on sunglasses and tips his chin at something behind my shoulder.

  I look behind me and find Ivy jogging towards us, crossing the street.

  Nico gives her a genuine smile. “Ivy. How are you, cara?”

  “It’s so good to see you, Nicky,” she says, leaning in to give him a hug. They’ve known each other all their lives.

  When Ivy was growing up, Papa used to invite us to Chicago for the holidays. Silver Falls was too painful for him.

  I never paid him a visit, but Ivy rarely missed an opportunity.

  Because of that, she knows everybody in Chicago. Nico is like a second brother to her.

  Her eyebrows shoot up when she gets a closer look at his face. “Oof. What happened to your nose?”

  “Ask him,” he says, nodding at me.

  “Leo?”

  “Ask him about how he set fire to our house,” I reply, glaring at Nico.

  “Nico?”

  “That’s a dick move,” he informs me.

  “Burning my house down is a dick move,” I say, walking away from the two of them.

  I can’t bring Belle into this world.

  Where a person’s idea of persuasion is setting fire to property. Where friends meet with guns strapped to their waists. Where mafia families declare war against each other every few weeks.

  A small part of me wanted to bring her to Chicago.

  Even if it meant exposing her to this world, I wanted to have her by my side.

  But now, as I stare at the charred branches of the black cherry tree, I know that I can’t.

  I can’t bring her to a place where everyone I know, from my friends to my enemies, are all reckless idiots.

  35

  Belle

  4 months later

  * * *

  “Two heartbeats?”

  “That’s what the doctor said,” I say.

  Julie and Hazel are seated next to each other, both of them with their mouths open.

  Meanwhile, I can’t seem to stop pacing.

  It’s all I’m able to do these days.

  The agitation inside me has built up, and the only way I can release it is by constantly moving.

  “Why didn’t they detect the second heartbeat until now?”

  I take a deep breath. “I already knew that two babies were growing inside me.”

  My sisters remain quiet, waiting for an explanation.

  I give them one. “Back in December, when I got my first ultrasound done, the doctors told me that I had twins growing inside me. A baby boy and a baby girl. But they also informed me that the baby girl was much, much smaller than its twin. And that there was a chance that she might not make it to term.”

  “Oh my God,” Julie says, clamping her hand on her mouth.

  Hazel’s eyes are wide and unblinking.

  “It’s a condition called ’twin to twin transfusion syndrome,’ where one gets more nutrition than the other.”

  An overwhelming sense of relief floods me as I talk about it. I tell them about everything I learned and everything I’ve been through.

  “So that’s why you seemed so aloof in December. I mean, more than the usual amount.”

  I smile. “Shut up.”

  “No, really. Hazel and I were talking about how you seemed more distant.”

  “Were you now?” I fold my arms on top of my belly.

  “Okay, I was doing most of the talking, but Hazel nodded,” Julie says. “In fact, she nodded multiple times.”

  “Anyway,” I say. “I got my second ultrasound done this morning, and the doctors are ‘very optimistic.’ Both of them are growing as they’re supposed to now.”

  “Belle, why didn’t you tell us about the twins back in December?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  But I do know.

  This is just what I do.

  I keep the painful and ugly things within myself and let them consume me.

  It’s what I did back in high school, not talking to anybody about what happened.

  I thought I had changed, but old habits die hard.

  I say quietly, “I guess I
didn’t know how to share that news without breaking down. I wanted to talk about it, but…”

  “You wanted to talk to…him?” Julie asks gently.

  “Yeah,” I exhale. “He was the one person I wanted to share everything with—the good and the bad. I wanted to tell him every single detail about everything that was happening in my life.”

  Things like the first time I was given an ultrasound picture of the twins. The one I had to hide from my sisters because I didn’t want them to worry about the second twin.

  And there was a time when Julie sang them a song, and I felt them kicking for the very first time.

  I knew in that moment that both of them were happy and healthy.

  It was some intuition that told me that they were both going to make it.

  Nobody told me that I would be filled with so much unconditional love for two little humans that I haven’t even met yet.

  I wondered if it would be the same for Leo.

  “I was in a dark place then. But you guys helped just by being there for me.”

  My heart was hurting all these months.

  I knew it wasn’t reasonable for me to wish this, but I couldn’t help but think of how much easier my life would have been like if I never went to Blackwood Estate.

  If my father wasn’t a crook.

  If I had never even met Leo.

  I’d still be my old self, only without a bleeding heart.

  My heart had been screaming all these questions at me. Questions I didn’t have the answers to. Questions nobody else could even hear.

  In the wintertime, I felt like I couldn’t possibly get through all that pain. But it’s spring now, and I did. I made it through the winter.

  I made it through the cold days.

  “I never knew that falling for someone could hurt me. And it hurt. So bad.” I look down at my belly. My six-month pregnant belly.

  He still doesn’t know.

  “Do you love him?” comes a husky voice.

  A voice I haven’t heard in two years.

  I suck in a breath, and look up at Hazel. Her lips are parted, and she’s breathing heavy.

  “Oh my God. Hazel- were you just- did you just-“

  “I’m sorry, did I stutter?” Again, that raw voice of hers—like a person with a permanent cold, but on her, it’s alluring. It hasn’t changed one bit, even after two years of no use.