by Alexa Hart
Pretty soon you’re not going to fit into these anyway.
It still didn’t seem real. I was pregnant. I was pregnant and going to dinner with Marcello to tell him he was going to be a father.
After Felicity left around 6:30, I found myself pacing my living room, heart racing. The clock said 6:58. Now it was starting to seem very real. Too real.
And then he was knocking. Had it been five weeks? Six? It seemed like an eternity. It seemed like a split second. I steadied myself and bravely strode to the door, opening it slowly and immediately finding myself locked into Marcello’s eyes. They were flaming with a mix of misery and excitement, and I felt that familiar tingling spreading through my body – in spite of my best efforts to remain stone cold.
His face was healed, for the most part. There still was the telltale mark of an almost gone wound on his forehead. Everything else looked normal – as though that night hadn’t even happened. And he was just as beautiful as he had been the very first time we met. It was hard to not be put slightly off balance by this.
“Abby.”
I was scared that if I let him in, we would never leave.
“Hello, Marcello,” I returned, stepping into the hall and locking my door. I was heavily aware that he was inches away from me. I could hear him breathing and smell his cologne – that same scent that had intoxicated me endlessly before. I began descending the stairs quickly, needing to get out of the building and breathe in the cold night air.
Harrison was waiting at the curb with the car door open. He nodded at me with the same impassiveness that always accompanied his greetings. We climbed into the back and I attempted to sit as far away from Marcello as possible, sliding over the fine leather seat until I bumped into the opposite door.
I had no idea where we were going. We seemed to be heading deeper into the city, and Marcello was admittedly a bit more dressed up than me. I started to regret my “statement” jeans. Nothing was ever really casual in the world of Marcello Morano. We were going to end up at some fine dining, exclusive-reservation-only restaurant and I was wearing fucking denim. I was going to be surrounded by rich people and crystal water glasses and over-priced everything, all while being clad in jeans and figuring out a good way to tell someone they had knocked me up.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurted. It came out so quickly amidst the frenzied thoughts swirling in my mind that I actually jumped at the words.
Marcello was staring at me. I could feel it. He slid closer to me, grabbing my hand, and I was frozen, staring at the floor. His finger tipped my chin gently until I caved and returned his gaze.
Intensity. Overpowering, burning intensity was shooting out of his charcoal eyes, causing me to fear for the first time that he might actually be angry at the arrival of such news. How could I blame him? I was the one who assured him we didn’t need a condom that first night. What if he thought I had done this on purpose? Why had that never occurred to me before now? What if he thought I was some money hungry, gold-digging, bitch who had seen nothing but dollar signs from the beginning?
I felt my stomach churning, and a realization that I could actually throw up on Marcello in his luxury vehicle right in front of Harrison and God and the whole world sent ripples of horror through my body. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have told him. I shouldn’t be here. Felicity was wrong. This was not the best thing for everyone. I was a fool.
“You’re sure?” He said finally, slowly enunciating his words.
I nodded, terrified.
A slow smile began to spread across his lips and he put his hands to my face. “Very sure?”
I nodded again, feeling myself relax ever so slightly at his touch.
He kissed me then, and it felt like I had never been kissed before. Steady, dominant lips overtook mine in strong, passionate motions. I felt instantly dizzy – weightless. My hand went to his face, and I realized, touching his skin, how I had longed for him every single second since we last saw each other. Our tongues entangled in an intricate, lustful embrace. My worries were lifting, dissipating, turning into nothing more than silly wisps of air.
He put one hand in my hair, heated and firm, clutching it possessively in his fist. I had completely forgotten where we were – or at least stopped caring – when he pulled back, breathing deeply for a few seconds.
“Harrison, change of plans. Home, please.”
We changed course seamlessly. Marcello sat as close to me as I thought quite possible, arms wrapped around my body, holding me to him. We were both silent, but I felt safer and calmer than I had in a very long time. I rested my head on his shoulder, realizing how exhausted I was in every way possible.
Arriving at his giant estate, I felt familiar waves of anticipation drowning out every other emotion. Marcello wasted no time escorting me inside, gingerly removing my coat and placing it on a golden, antique wall hanger. He paused, studying me fervently.
“I’m sure Marta is already putting Gia to bed,” he spoke mindlessly, walking towards me slowly. “Come.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the staircase.
I hesitated, trying to grasp at the foggy reasons why I had stayed away from this man. Surely, they still mattered. Surely it couldn’t be this easy to just –
“Abby, I love you,” he brought me to him, gently forcing my face up. “I love you, and I know you love me. I know you do.”
I could hear the fear in his voice as he began to realize that I could still, even now, back out. His jaw flexed, waiting for my response. I put a finger to the dull mark on his forehead and traced its length.
I suddenly realized that perhaps I had abandoned him at a moment where he very much needed me. Marcello had broken my heart, but I had returned the same. All this time I had spent avoiding him – refusing to even answer a phone call, and he had been trapped in the same hell that I myself was enduring.
And it had changed nothing. It had stopped nothing. I loved him now as much as I ever had before. I wanted him – needed him – craved him just as fiercely. It hadn’t waned in the least. My love for him was coursing through my body so strongly that I was trembling uncontrollably.
And the baby – we had made a baby. We were going to have a baby. He was happy that I was pregnant.
“I do love you. I love you so much,” I admitted, tearing up slightly. I pressed my lips to his, kissing him furiously, as though my body were angry and greedy for the weeks of this passion that had been wasted. That was all the answer he needed. Marcello swept me up in his arms like a feather and carried me up the stairs.
That grandiose, larger-than-life bed was awaiting us with all the magical promise of everything that had already taken place in it, and everything that was about to. And this time, fittingly, we were lovingly undressing each other.
Marcello emitted a hungry little growl when I was down to my bra and panties. “You and black lace. My God.” He lifted me onto the bed, and I could tell he was balancing his fire with the fact that I was pregnant and, in his mind, “extra fragile”.
“Marcello?” I whispered sweetly, pulling him on top of me and slightly digging my nails into his magnificently muscled biceps. “You can’t hurt the baby with sex. I’m not gonna break.”
His eyes flashed feverishly, and he slowly pinned my arms above my head. His mouth met my breasts with a nearly violent mania, and I writhed with pleasure while he reclaimed them – biting and sucking with a carnal, ravenous appetite. The pregnancy had made them so extra-sensitive that I let out a happy moan when his teeth gently found my nipple. By the time he was done with the first I knew I was going to come, and come soon. While he annihilated the other, I felt my body falling into that ecstatic contraction that grew into a near-convulsion of pleasure as the come exploded from my body, making me scream in orgasmic satisfaction.
Before I had even finished completely, he was entering me with his powerful shaft, and piercing me with strong, solid thrusts that brought delicious roars from his throat with every lunge. I felt him pulsating inside of m
e and growing into a colossal, throbbing beast. He was so deep – so deep – and I felt myself beginning to climax – again – with painfully desperate heat.
The euphoric cries of rapture as we peaked together echoed off the walls with blissful elation. Marcello collapsed on me, kissing my neck, my face, my hands, my breasts; and murmuring over and over “I love you - I love you.”.
I felt peace. I felt like I was finally exactly where I belonged. The pure, untouchable happiness that came with that feeling put me in a trance. Marcello rolled onto his back, also seemingly dazed. We lay like that until he reached for something and presented my ruby necklace, which had apparently been fixed.
He smiled devilishly. “You know at some point, you’ll probably be in trouble for refusing to wear this.” My insides quivered hungrily. “But for now, I suppose I’ll give you a pass.” He said this as he fastened it around my neck, and then lay his head by mine, putting a hand on my bare stomach gently. “How many weeks?” He asked suddenly.
I smiled at him, sheepishly. “Eight? Or I guess nine now...” Seeing him caress so tenderly what was not even a slight bump yet on my body brought happy tears to my eyes. “You’re really okay with this?”
The look in his eyes then was that same intense burning that I had mistaken for displeasure in the car when I first told him. “Abby, I’m not sure there’s anything that could make me happier than having you, and a baby I made with you, and Gia all under the same roof.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to live here?”
He pulled me against him, bare breasts softly pushing into his equally bare and solidly muscled chest. “Yes. I do. You will.” He had that same confident possessiveness in his tone that somehow always made me delightedly crazy.
“The doctor thought the conception date was Christmas Day,” I offered, smiling a bit wickedly, remembering the lustful activities that had taken place that particular evening.
“Christmas? Hm. Well I guess we have our first name idea,” he replied, chuckling.
Laughing now, I couldn’t help thinking that this was one of the most endearing moments between us thus far. Marcello thinking of baby names. It was adorable. “I’m not sure any child would ever forgive their parents for naming them ‘Christmas’.”
He laughed too. “Well it is Valentine’s Day now, so... What’s your deal with holidays, Miss Greene?”
I grinned, running a finger down his forearm, tracing the letters of his tattoo and feeling a very sudden and unwanted memory of the fear I had felt when Rossi left my apartment that night. My grin disappeared and I quietly whispered, “Blood, fire and death before betrayal...” and then turned my gaze up to Marcello’s piercing eyes.
“It scares you?” He queried, smoothing my hair down my bare back as he loved to do.
I nodded. Transparency, it seemed, would be the only road that we could go down together from here on out. “It does,” I said quietly.
Marcello looked so beautiful then – a mixture of sincerity and love and fierce protectiveness beaming out of him. “It speaks of the deep, unbreakable love amongst family. You are my family now, Abby. It means I will never, ever, let anything happen to you, or the baby, or Gia,” he spoke the words slowly, firmly, and with a deep, ardor filled fire. Leaning in, he kissed my forehead and once again cradled my face in his palms. “It should never scare you. It is a promise. It is the way I love.” Kissing me then, pulling my body on top of him in one smooth motion so that we were skin to skin, and locking me in with those eyes – those charcoal pools I had fallen for the very first time we met – he spoke the words that I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting to hear for my entire life. “Abby, I will love you forever.”
I knew it was true.
Nothing else mattered.
THE END
KEEP READING FOR KANE
BOOK 2 IN THE MOB DADDIES SERIES!
BOOK 2: KANE
I never expected faking a marriage to be easy…
But I also never expected Kane to be so hard.
Every girl loves a bad boy, right?
Well, not me.
And Kane Dagger is the worst of the worst.
Forget about his cast-iron, chiseled body, or the way he towers over me.
Don’t even mention that sexy smile or the full lips that come right along with it.
Sure, he may be a total heartthrob - all while somehow managing to be superdad extraordinaire, but don’t let all that fool you… Kane Dagger is no good.
His ties to the underground world of crime in this city are cold hard proof of his dirty ways.
He’s come to collect a serious debt, and the one connection I still have to my family is in jeopardy.
I refuse to let him win.
But little do I know, Kane is fighting a battle of his own.
A bit of desperation and a hair-brained scheme might be just the thing to save us both, and I’m willing to do just about anything.
There’s just one thing I didn’t account for.
My heart.
My stupid, unruly heart.
Now I’m ready to give him everything, v-card be damned.
And let me tell you… Kane Dagger is soooo good.
But what should I do now that I’m holding on to a secret even bigger than our phony marriage?
Chapter 1
Summer
The little girl sitting next to me on the Greyhound Bus to Chicago is as cute as she is chatty. We are only twenty minutes outside of Madison and I already know that her name is Maddie and she just turned nine three weeks ago, she’s going to be a vampire zombie cheerleader for Halloween, that she lives with her dad, who works in finance, though I have no idea why she uses air-quotes when she says it, and that she’s on the bus coming back from a trip to visit her mom, which didn’t seem to have gone as well as she would have hoped based on her red-rimmed eyes. I’ve learned all this, and we are still in Wisconsin!
Unlike my little seatmate, I’ve always been on the shy side myself. My nickname in high school was the “librarian” because I was so quiet and always had my head buried in a book. Even now, in a white silk blouse, pencil skirt, fluffy, super soft cardigan, and my long brown hair up in a bun, I suppose I still fit the mold of the prim and proper bookworm, except I’ve mostly traded my glasses for contacts. But quiet, shy me enjoys letting this little girl talk my ear off. She actually reminds me of Becca, my best friend, who’s currently doing an internship in London—one I was supposed to do with her. As Maddie goes on and on about her favorite subject, (math!) and a boy who’s bothering her at school, (Elijah!) I realize this mini-Becca is exactly what I needed—and it’s clear she needed a good listener too, something us shy girls happen to excel at.
When I’d boarded the bus back in Madison, I’d had a lot on my mind, and I’m used to working through how I feel on my own. This stoicism is one of Becca’s biggest complaints about me, besides the one about how I’d bailed on London, which was supposed to be my first big adventure, well, ever. I’d always been a good kid and an A student, but ever since my parents died and Becca’s parents took me in so I could finish high school with some stability, I’ve tried my best to be no trouble to anyone. Now, fresh out of college, I’ve never been drunk, gotten a piercing anywhere but my ears, and, um...well, never done a lot of things actually, especially in the men department. And instead of living it up like Becca and finally cutting loose like I’m supposed to at this age, I’m ditching my best friend and going to help my Uncle Rudy run my grandparents’ old bakery while he recovers from back surgery. Why his stepson Angelo can’t do it is beyond me, but Rudy is the last family I have, and the bakery meant so much to my mom. When Uncle Rudy called me, I couldn’t say no. Family is family and when you’ve lost your family as I did, you hang on to what you have left, no matter what. So, I turned down the internship, pissed Becca off pretty royally, and am now heading to Chicago instead. I guess the librarian nickname existed for a good reason.
So when I got on the bus I admit
I was looking forward to a few hours of silent contemplation, though it could just have easily turned into rumination, and there were still a few empty rows on the bus where I could have sat with a window seat and no pint-sized, chatty seatmate. But as I walked down the bus aisle during boarding, she’d looked up at me with absolutely the biggest, bluest eyes I have ever seen — eyes that were red and swollen from crying — and I slid right in next to her. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew that feeling. And when I was little and would get upset my mom always baked cookies for me. My favorite was her famous cheer-up chocolate chip cookies, and it just so happened that I had a whole cookie tin of the same recipe in my big carry-on bag. I’d baked them that morning to prepare for the move, a sort of cheer-up to myself. It had been a long time since I had pulled my mom’s old recipe book off the shelf, and it hurt my heart just leafing through the well-worn pages that she’d touched so many times. Now though, I’m glad I’d gone through the trouble, and besides, if I was going to help out at a bakery I’d need to brush up on my skills. I opened up the tin as the bus pulled out of the station and took one out for myself. I offered the tin to the girl and she eyed them, rightly suspicious I suppose. I took a bite of my own cookie to prove it wasn’t poisoned and she took two herself. She had long, wavy blonde hair and the most beautiful eyelashes. Whoever she inherited those eyes from must be a stunner.
“These are still warm,” she had said in awe as she took a second bite.