Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance

by Stephan James

“People who break the law.”

  “Ah,” Antonio said. “Yes, that.” For a moment there, he thought his new husband meant something else.

  Angelo seemed to read his mind. He frowned. “I know you’re not gay. I’m not going to try and seduce you. You understand that, right?”

  “I do now,” Antonio let a small sigh escape his lips.

  “Sometimes I go to social events and I will need you to accompany me to most of those. For appearances.”

  Antonio nodded. “That sounds fine. I mean, I don’t have to work, do I? What else am I going to do with my time?” He let out a chuckle, not wanting to think about how true his words really were.

  “Speaking of not working,” Angelo said. “You’re having to change a lot of your life and I don’t think it’s very fair. It’s necessary, unfortunately, but I can make the transition tolerable for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to give you money each month so you’re able to do what you would like to without having to think about working.”

  “You’re going to give me an allowance?”

  “If you want to think of it like that, yes.” Angelo smiled. “How does… Five-thousand sound?”

  “Five-thousand?” Antonio’s mouth dropped open slightly, a deep frown etched into his brow. “For how long?”

  “A month,” Angelo frowned too. “But I think that’s not enough, judging by your expression. Let’s make it seven-thousand-five-hundred a month.”

  Antonio’s words stuck in his throat. “A month? How much money do you have?”

  “Enough,” Angelo said curtly. His eyes turned to look out the window and his fingers moved to cover his mouth. They picked at the dry skin on his bottom lip as he absentmindedly stared out to the road.

  Antonio scolded himself, knowing that he was not to discuss how much money Angelo had, or where it came from. That seemed to be the one subject he wasn’t open to talk about. “I have a ground rule.”

  Angelo turned his head. “Yes?”

  “Date night,” Antonio started, his throat feeling dry. Am I really suggesting this? “We need to go out and be seen in public together. And I would at least like us to go dutch on the meal.”

  The corners of Angelo’s mouth curled upward. “If you insist.”

  “I do,” Antonio said. “I think it will give us time to get to know each other better as well. Just because we’re in a fake marriage doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” Plus, that arrangement would allow him to get some time out of the house.

  “Friends,” Angelo repeated. “All right, I agree.”

  The rest of the journey passed in silence, both men looking out their windows to the blurry world outside. As they passed over the Brooklyn Bridge, making their slow way to Cobble Hill, Angelo sat up straight and paid more attention to his surroundings.

  “I’m sorry to ask you to do this on your wedding night,” Angelo said. “But I think it best that you start packing. I will have some movers collect your things in a couple of days. When I know the exact date, I will call and let you know.”

  “You have my number?”

  Angelo frowned. “I… don’t. I don’t have my husband’s phone number.” He laughed and brought out his phone, handing it to Antonio. Once his number was in Angelo’s phone, he passed it back.

  “Now you do,” Angelo said. “I think I’ll start a letter of resignation tonight. Tomorrow I’ll pack. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

  Angelo laughed. “A fake wedding is just as tiring as a real one, I suspect.”

  The car pulled up outside Antonio’s building. He put his hand on the door handle and turned to face his new husband. For a split second, he didn’t want to leave the car. He wanted to stay in the limousine, drinking champagne with this man, spending his wedding night getting to know him better. The feeling quickly passed, mostly because Antonio willed it away, and he forced himself to smile.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve booked the movers,” Angelo said.

  “Tomorrow,” Antonio agreed.

  Even though his mind was shouting at his body to move, his legs were stuck in place and his hand had turned to stone on the handle. Something was stopping him from exiting the limousine. Antonio couldn’t figure out what it was that was keeping him there.

  He decided to try something. He didn’t know why he wanted to do it, and part of him said he shouldn’t. But, he couldn’t help it.

  He leaned toward Angelo and placed his free hand on his cheek. The stubble had pushed through his tanned skin and it bristled against Antonio’s fingers. His eyes were almost black in the dim light. As Antonio moved closer and closer, he marveled at the length of Angelo’s eyelashes. They were long, dark, and curved up to the heavens.

  Antonio placed a soft kiss on his lips, inhaling the scent of Angelo’s cologne. When he moved away, he saw the confused look in Angelo’s eyes, but refused to explain himself. He could not have explained it if he tried. He planted another kiss on his lips and this time Angelo was able to break through his shock and kiss back, planting one of his hands on the back of Antonio’s neck.

  Antonio let go of Angelo’s cheek, and in turn Angelo let go as well. Their lips parted. Antonio forced himself to shuffle backwards out of the limousine, wondering why he’d had the urge to kiss Angelo. Quickly he managed to think of an excuse. I’ll need to kiss him for many years to come, Antonio thought. I guess I’d best get used to it. Without saying another word, Antonio climbed the steps to the building and let himself inside. As he trudged up the stairs as he tried not to think about anything, especially not the kiss they had shared.

  By the time he’d turned on the living room light and stepped to the window, peering through the curtains to look down at the road, the limousine had gone.

  *************

  Angelo’s stomach grumbled angrily, sending rumbling shivers through his body. He glanced at the watch on his wrist—it was almost seven, almost time for dinner. Once his cell phone was in his hand, pressing his thumb on Antonio’s number, his mind caught up to him. What am I doing? Why am I calling him? It rang once, twice, three times. Then Antonio answered.

  “Hi, Angelo.” His voice was lilted, as if he were singing every word he spoke.

  Angelo closed his eyes and exhaled, hoping the sound of his breath didn’t reach Antonio. “Hey, have the movers collected your things?”

  “Yeah, they left about a half hour ago.” Antonio paused. “Is that why you called?”

  “Yes and no,” Angelo said. “I was wondering if you would like to enforce one of your ground rules?”

  There was no sound for moment. “Which one?” His voice had lost its lilt, now strained and worried.

  “The date night one. Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? My treat,” he said, trying not to sound too pushy.

  “Sure,” Antonio said, still sounding wary. “When would you like to meet? I’ll call myself a cab.”

  “No,” Angelo shouted. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll have a driver come pick you up.”

  “I don’t want to put you out. I’ll call a cab.”

  Angelo felt his stomach start to boil. “No, no more cabs.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll be better this way,” Angelo said, hoping Antonio would stop asking questions. “Let me have a driver come pick you up. Is eight okay?”

  “Sounds great,” Antonio said. His voice betrayed him. He was curious, and a little angry by the sounds of it.

  “See you after eight,” Angelo said, quickly hanging up the phone. He threw it to the couch cushions beside him and let out a long, steady breath. At dinner Antonio would surely ask plenty of invasive questions. Angelo had no doubt about it. If only I’d been able to keep my cool, he thought. That might’ve saved me from an intolerable evening, a barrage of questions raining down on me.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. It was done now. All he had to do was have a handful of excuses ready to go and then he’d just have to hope t
hat Antonio bought them. I don’t trust cab drivers, Angelo mused. That could work. Cabs and public transport are below you now, I always have my own drivers and it would look strange for my husband to take cabs instead of a limo. It seemed unlikely that Antonio would buy it, but it might stifle the questions. He had to keep up appearances now after all, so he might understand. My drivers are trained to handle anything that could happen. That was closer to the truth but it sounded mysterious, as if he were inviting Antonio to ask more questions.

  Angelo scooped up his phone and got up from the couch, his knees creaking and cracking as they strained to help him to his feet. To his right, he could see all of lower Manhattan, spreading out as far as the eye could see. Lights flickered in and outside the buildings, and some moved through the streets. The whole world seemed to be alight. His living room had windows stretching from wall to ceiling and he thought that the room had the best view in his entire apartment. The kitchen’s windows were too small, letting too little light in, and the views in the bedrooms weren’t as nice at night. There were too few lights, too much blackness. This was, by far, his favorite room in the place.

  He walked right, heading into the hallway. It stretched from the bedrooms all the way to the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, the walls covered in paintings his cousin Lisa had made for him. Some of them were a little out there for his taste—streaks and thick lines of heavy paint, flecked with spatters where Lisa had clearly dipped her brush in paint and thrown it at the canvas—but some of them he truly liked.

  She had painted one for him at his request. It was next to his bedroom door, hanging in a spot where he’d see it every morning and every evening. He’d made Lisa stand in his living room and erect her easel there, and asked her to paint the view as she saw it. Lisa had taken some artistic liberty: she’d made the colors more vibrant—adding more reds and greens than were there—and small little tweaks that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe that was just a visualization of the way she saw the view, he didn’t know. The only thing he cared about was liking it. As he went into his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked, he wondered if Antonio would like the painting as much as he did.

  There was much he didn’t know about his new husband but it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He had plenty of time to get to know the man, after all. Marrying a straight man was a wise idea of Rosa’s. Even if he found himself developing feelings for Antonio, there was no way they’d ever be head-over-heels in love with each other. Angelo was glad of it. It was a sure way to keep them both safe from harm. There was enough harm in his life, with his father’s business now in his hands, he had to keep the drama to a minimum. He didn’t need the stress of work and a relationship clouding his mind, altering his judgment.

  Soon his driver arrived to take him to the restaurant. Angelo had chosen a place he now owned. He hadn’t been to it since before his father got sick and figured it would be a good place for them to go since he would be able to choose his own table and get it without a reservation. He even knew what table he was going to pick. The one farthest to the back, hidden by a half-wall. His father had always chosen it and Angelo wanted to carry on the tradition.

  It still pained him to think of his father. When he tried to recall his face, he either saw a sickly ghost of a man, dying in his study, or he saw his father’s coffin being lowered into the ground, wobbling slightly as it descended into the earth. As his heart began to ache, he pushed the thought aside. He was newly married and arriving at the restaurant in tears wouldn’t look quite right.

  Within a few minutes he was at the restaurant, standing outside to look up at the sign. It read Guiseppe’s. Angelo smiled at the sight of his father’s name and stepped inside. As he waited for Antonio to arrive, he busied his nervous hands. He ate bread sticks, crunching them between his teeth as quietly as possible, and looked around at the other patrons. They all looked happy with their service. Angelo supposed it didn’t really matter if the customers enjoyed the service—it was just one of many fronts he used to launder money—but it made him happy nonetheless. Everything his father worked hard for was running smoothly and he wanted to bask in it. Who knows how long it will last?

  A dark car pulled up to the curb. Angelo leaned past the half-wall in front of him to see who it was clearly. When the back door opened, and Antonio stepped onto the street, Angelo’s heart began to hammer in his chest. When he noticed how erratic his heart was beating, his hands started to sweat. He wiped them on his pants as he stood, trying to make it look casual, and waited next to the table for Antonio to join him.

  *************

  It took them hours to eat their food. They were too busy talking, laughing at each other’s jokes and drinking more wine than they should have. The servers were attentive. Angelo couldn’t recall a single moment where his glass had been empty. His head felt light and dizzy, and so did his heart. His cheeks hurt from smiling all evening and he supposed Antonio’s were hurting, too. After the first few glasses of wine, both men had relaxed into their date-but-not-a-date and neither had stopped smiling since.

  Eventually, Antonio finished his last little bit of spaghetti and sat back in his chair, his body swaying slightly. “Well, that was delicious.”

  “You liked it?” Angelo asked.

  Antonio nodded in reply, rubbing his hands over his full stomach as he leaned back in his seat.

  “That’s good. I own the place.”

  “This restaurant is yours?”

  “My father bought it years and years ago,” Angelo said. “When he died it was passed down to me.”

  Antonio frowned, leaning forward suddenly. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table and put his hand on top of Angelo’s, squeezing it lightly. It felt a little odd, but he had to do it. “I had no idea you’d lost your father.”

  “No, no,” Angelo said. “It’s okay. He was sick for a long time. We made our peace with it by the time he died. I don’t want to bring down the tone of the lovely evening we’ve had. We can talk about my father another time.”

  Antonio nodded and withdrew his hand as Angelo motioned for a waitress to come over.

  “May we have the check, please?” Angelo asked. The young girl, no older than mid-twenties, nodded and went to leave. “Oh, if you would be so kind as to bring your manager out here as well, that would be lovely.”

  The girl’s eyes went wide. “My… My manager?”

  “Yes,” Angelo smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I’m going to tell him how much I love this place.”

  The girl ran off. Angelo suspected she didn’t quite believe him. When the manager came out, he looked ghostly white. “You asked for me, sir?”

  “I did,” Angelo smiled. “I want you to know how much I loved the service here tonight.”

  Antonio chimed in. “As did I, and the food was exquisite.”

  “Oh, how rude of me,” Angelo shook his head. “This is my new husband, Antonio. You’re Chris, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” the manager said, his face still looking strained. “Pleased to meet you, Antonio.”

  “Anyway,” Angelo continued. “As I was saying, we’ve had a fantastic evening and I wanted to personally thank you. Please extend my thanks to everyone working tonight, and I’d like to give everyone employed here a ten percent bump in salary. Effective immediately. If there is anything you need, new ovens or equipment perhaps, I’d like you to give me a call or email and I will make sure that you have it.”

  “T-t-t-thank you, sir.”

  Angelo gave the man his card and asked for the waitress to come back. When she returned, he brought a wad of money out of his pocket and thumbed through it. He stopped at two-thousand dollars and pulled it free from the rest. The waitress was staring at him, wide-eyed and scared. Angelo had to take hold of her hand and open it for her to place the money in her palm.

  “That is for you,” he said.

  The girl managed a meek thank you before slin
king off to the kitchen. When the door had closed behind her, Angelo heard her excited screams pulsing through the walls. Angelo laughed as he placed more money on the table, paying for the meal so the waitress could keep all of her tip, and stood from his seat. Antonio followed suit, all the while staring at him.

  “You just made that girl’s year,” he said. “If not, her life.”

  “I knew my father was a tough man,” Angelo said. “But I had no idea just how tough until I saw the girl’s face when I asked for her manager. I don’t want to be like him, I don’t want to treat people like he did, so I have to make some positive changes.”

  Antonio lunged forward, kissing him on the mouth. Angelo was stunned, confused as to why Antonio kept kissing him if he was straight, but soon allowed himself to enjoy it. Soon their tongues were dancing together, their breaths ragged and shallow. When Antonio moved away, he wiped his mouth and averted his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why…”

  Angelo took hold of his hand. “It’s fine.”

  They walked hand-in-hand to the limousine waiting outside. In the cooler was a bottle of wine, already opened, with two glasses beside it. Angelo poured them a glass each as they settled into the leather seats. Antonio’s face was flushed and his slim body was trembling. Soon his knee started to jump up and down, his foot jerking and twisting as if Antonio was trying to make it stop.

  “Are you all right?” Angelo asked.

  Antonio nodded. “I’m fine,” he said before sipping at his wine.

  Liar, Angelo thought.

  Chapter Four

  Antonio kept drinking. As long as there was something he could put in his mouth—besides Angelo—he would be okay. He had kissed the man three times now and he still couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to do it. The first two times he thought he was just trying it out, seeing what it was like to kiss another man, but that last time… That was something else entirely. He’d felt this huge wave of admiration and longing. Watching Angelo be so kind to a stranger stirred up something deep inside and Antonio hadn’t been able to fight it.