I prepared dinner—something completely out of my wheelhouse at the time—and baked a cherry pie. Or tried. Jake was enjoying his after dinner beer and smoke when I announced over the table of my grandmother’s antique china that I was pregnant.
“You’re what?”
“Pregnant?” I opened my eyes wide and pretended to rock a baby in my arms.
I think if he hadn’t been holding onto the table, he would’ve fallen underneath it. While Jake was attempting to start over, not all of his business associations were on the up and up. He still skirted the edge of the law and answered the phone every time Luca Raniero called.
It hurt. Especially when I heard Jake boasting about the baby growing in my belly. I wanted to call Luca late one night and tell him the truth, but I knew Jake already plunged the dull blade deep into his chest. I went to the bathtub and cried for hours. I loved two men for different reasons. One I couldn’t have, and the other one couldn’t give me what I wanted.
We had enough scars, and a baby was a promise of love. My father was thrilled by our deciding to stay in Texas. With the news of an heir, he handed over the title to the property to me. It seemed so insignificant at the time. So random. “Here take your Great Grandparents estate and raise your baby.”
Throughout my pregnancy, I got to know my father and my history. Both my great grandfather and grandfather were doctors who built the property to serve as a hospital for the outlying rural areas.
They were trailblazers of their own right, serving not only the white, but the African American, Hispanic, and Native American communities. As I sat in my father’s house listening to his tales, I began to understand why I was the way I was.
“Since you are listening to my tales of old, you and Jake ought to take on some lessons of the oil and ranch business,” he said, seeing the fledgling businesswoman in me. I had always had an entrepreneurial spirit, and the idea of running our family business excited me. I put the needs of D/s away as I focused on restoring the house for our family and learning my father’s tricks of the trade. “I’d love to see you keep the Ford’s on the map, Anna.”
And so as it was, my belly grew, and my mind expanded. I gave birth to Chancelor Jared Ballister in 1961. My father was slightly unforgiving about the name choice, especially considering I refused to marry his father, but I knew in giving Chance the Ballister name, there would never be any reason for debate. To avoid confusion, I became Anna Ford Ballister.
The last thing I wanted was a war over my darling bundle of blue. I knew the moment I looked into his eyes whose child he was. I didn’t want or need a paternity test. At the advice of my father, we hired a nanny. Jake was working full-time for Luca, and I had a career waiting on me with one of the most respected oil and ranchmen in the state—my father.
And I was about to push every possible limit of the time.
By 1963, I had my own office and hired my personal secretary, a lovely woman named Cattleya Banks, who was a Haitian mother with a beautiful baby daughter named Delilah. Ironically, she met her French husband, Louis Leblanc, in New Orleans. To be more American, he changed his last name to Banks before their marriage. Eventually, her daughter would return to her roots.
This was the muck from which we all came from—names were changed, family loyalties realigned, and people migrated. I never said she worked for me and my reasons for that were simple. Every deal and every document we signed, every merger and acquisition we made, Cattleya held my hand as she worked with me.
Not that it mattered, but the grand deal my father wanted to score by my proposed marriage to Gilbert Saunders, I eventually made in 1973 when I bought his entire company outright. I liquidated it shortly after that. But the point was I never stopped striving to achieve and move forward.
Cattleya was my best friend. And after her husband passed in 1978, we set up the Anna Ford Foundation (and eventually Charities) in his honor. In 1981, over Long Island Iced Teas and a few lines of coke—not by us but him—she was also the one who persuaded Victor Saint Cruz to admit the killing of Daizou Ito over cocktails one night. It felt good to know the truth finally. Cattleya was also one of my lovers until her death in 1991.
Oh, yes, I partied with the best and had many, many lovers.
And no, you may not know all of them.
I know you probably want to see the end, but the truth is, Salvatore—it hasn’t happened yet. They were all chapters—some happy, some sad—but all mine and all memorable. I owned them, every single one of them.
I can see the eager look in your eyes, which reminds me so much of Luca, and I know what you want. I promise it is all coming. But before we get there, we have to go through the dark and blissful because without those years—without those chapters—none of what you know would ever have happened.
Sit tight. Hold on. Stay with me.
Honey. Drizzle. Crustella. Come.
CHAPTER 15
Life has a way of getting in the way.
Days passed. Diapers soiled. Weeks passed. Painters came. Months passed. Foundation stabilized. Years passed. Furniture filled.
My agonizing heart slowly healed over time as I embraced our glittery Christmas trees and sparkling birthday cakes. I fell in love with myself again, and then I fell in love with him. I adored my son, excelled at work, and continued to restore the past as we brought the property back to life.
Jake and I did interior work where we could, but we were genuinely excited about building the garden. Chance was visiting with my dad and the nanny, Jocelyn, one weekend in the spring of 1966 as we discussed our plans. I wasn’t convinced Jocelyn and Dad weren’t getting it on. From a financial perspective, it worried me, but it wasn’t long after whatever they were started that Dad sat me down and told me about his will.
Despite Jessie still being alive, they were estranged, and Dad wanted everything in my name—Anna Ford Ballister. It was cut and dry. I didn’t want to think about life without my dad, but I understood he was older when I was born, and he wasn’t a spring chicken. I never tried to make contact with my brother because he never bothered to check on me. We hadn’t fought like Dad, and he had, but that didn’t make us loving siblings either. As far as I was concerned, he was a stranger.
“I would like a lot of garden beds around the house,” I muttered as we studied the topography of our relatively new space. We had spent several years working to make the house livable and ignoring the outside. “And a path to the vegetable patch right there.”
“You know, why don't I go get some paper, pen and a couple of beers,” Jake suggested, kissing my cheek and sprinting for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Alright,” I laughed, assessing the mess that years of neglect had left behind. I moved around the back deck looking at the different angles and imagined the views I wanted to have for the rest of my life.
Jake returned with my notebook from France open as an astonished look covered his face. “… What is all of this?”
“Silly little girl dreams I once had,” I snapped, snatching the book from his hands. “There are plenty of other notebooks on the shelf.”
“But Anna…” He reached for me as I turned away.
“What?” I huffed as he took me in his arms. I didn't want to see my notes or remember the girl from the library or miss the feeling of being owned. He said nothing as we had a stare down. I wasn't sure who would crack first. “It's just stupid stuff.”
“It's not stupid,” Jake argued, refusing to let me go. “My boss’ name is in that book.”
“Yes,” I acknowledged, rolling my eyes. “It is.”
I swayed away from his gaze as he quizzed, “Was Luca going to help you with this?”
“I don't know,” I sighed, clutching the book to my bosom like a priceless valuable. “I don’t know anything.”
Setting his jaw, he nodded with a passive but pissed off look. “I’m going to get us some beer now.”
“You do that,” I rebuked, angrily. “I’m going to plan our ga
rden.”
Flipping through the book, I saw the scribble –
“I believe in you. – Luca”
– as my tears hit the pages. The pain of losing Luca, my Master, and myself was all too much. Jake might have still been working for Raniero, but I had zero to do with any of it. I hadn’t seen or talked to Luca since England and thinking about our weekend together only brought up other issues like my infidelity. Not that Jake was innocent.
He was far from it.
His affair with Sally Jane was the source of many of our battles. He didn’t just have one night of indiscretion, but the entire time I was at Highlandale Hawthorne, they were carrying on. According to Dick, who called to check on me when I returned to the states, Sally Jane had tried to persuade Jake to marry her.
What happened in Vegas…
Much to my surprise, Jake did return with two beers. I figured he would probably end up in the garage we had built. He loved to tinker with his vintage motorcycle when we quibbled.
Opening my beer, he sat on the edge of a metal chair and propped his elbows to his knees as he stared at me. “We can’t keep pretending what happened didn’t. We have to deal with this, or it will destroy us, Anna.”
Spinning away from the railing, I glanced at him. “How exactly do you suggest we do that Jake?”
“We do it like we’ve done everything else,” he sternly replied, clasping his hands together. “We jump in and pray for the best.”
“Your big plan is sink or swim? Fight or flight? Love or leave?” I shouted, feeling a blend of everything from an innate curiosity to who we would be now to utter disbelief. “That isn’t a plan. You should pack your bags now.”
I pivoted back to the wide-open space of my enormous backyard. “You are not keeping Chance.”
It was pure bait, and I wasn’t falling for it, so I sassed, “You wouldn’t know what to do with my new businesswoman. And that is part of the problem.”
We hadn’t crossed the bridge because I feared the firestorm it would bring. While he was still running gangster errands, I had fought to achieve and garner respect as a legitimate partner in my father’s business. I was no longer some stripper making money off of pitting boys against one another.
We were on two different levels. His was criminal, and I was tired of the excuses. I had begged him to quit for the last two years. We didn’t need the money. He did it because of the adrenaline rush, but what he failed to realize is that every job he took put his life—my son’s father, or at least the only father he knew—at risk.
“I want to get all of this out in the open,” Jake said, slamming back his beer. “I don’t want this need for a life – that we both seem to want – cutting us out of a happy ending.”
“So, what do you suggest, great Dominant of mine?” My venomous words spurred on his sneer as I drank my beer.
“Let’s go to Boston,” he suggested as I practically spit up. “Have dinner with Luca.”
Wiping my chin, I stuttered, “… Are you fucking insane? I’m not walking on mafia turf.”
Even though I already was.
I still had twenty percent of the Raniero international shipping deals coming back to line my pockets, but some things—we don’t talk about.
Striding over to me, he took me in his arms. “We could be there by tonight. Come back late tomorrow. Chance is safe with Jocelyn. Little getaway.”
Dinner with the mob boss.
Drinks with the man who understood.
Feeling brave, I flatly put it out there in the open. “The last time the three of us were together, it didn’t fare so well.”
“We’re in a better place,” he assured, tightening his arms around me. “It won’t happen again, Anna.”
Famous last words of a fool.
* * *
Sitting on the plane, I chain smoked through half a pack in first class. Funny thing was I didn’t smoke. My trembling hands were downing mimosas like water, and I kept smoothing out my royal purple dress. I wore heels (big mistake) and had a purse to match. Jake wore slacks and a dress shirt. He actually left the leather jacket at home.
“Are you ready?” he asked, peering down at me. “We are being picked up and taken to dinner.”
“I suppose,” I said. It wasn’t like I had much choice now. We boarded the bird, and there was no stopping the ride.
The landing went smooth, and it wasn’t long before Jake grabbed our one carry-on and escorted me outside. As much as I didn’t want to do this, Jake was acting like the perfect gentleman. We found our driver and ventured into the seedy underworld.
I remembered the last time Jake and I were in a limousine together in Hawaii. We ended up at a small restaurant in the North End. “Isn’t their house near here?”
“Yeah, it’s right down the street, but this deli has the best food.”
I peered in through the window to the darkened restaurant. “It looks closed.”
“Yeah, it’s not,” he said, grabbing my hand as we exited the car. “Come on.”
Two men inside the front door unlocked it for us, and we made our way inside. “Ballister!” Antonio Campanelli shouted, extending his arms. I never liked the man, but it would be another twenty years before Luca rid himself of the scum.
The scent of garlic mingled with the nicotine, sweet smoke, and patchouli. We stood in the clouds staring at one another. I stayed back, reserved and quiet, as the jukebox blared R&B.
“The gray clouds have parted,” Luca loudly announced, rushing to see me. Making small talk with Raniero’s gang, Jake ignored the shrewd moves his sly boss was making on me. He scooped me up into his arms and held me there for a long while. In his thirties, Luca was as handsome as he ever was. With his scruff nuzzled against my neck, he whispered, “You look beautiful, Stellina.”
With a snap of his fingers, the men hastily dispersed leaving the trio of us alone in the small Italian deli. “I’m starving, Luca.”
“One moment,” he nodded to the waiter. “You have to eat regularly, Anna.”
“She never does,” Jake said with a smile. “How are things?”
“Good. Good,” Luca said as three waiters brought out trays of pizza, panzarotti, olives, antipasti salad, meatballs, sausage, cheese, and these little delicious fried bits of dough drizzled with honey and powdered sugar. There was enough food for a football team and wine, so much wine.
We ate. We chatted. We ate some more.
Holding up a piece of the pretzel-shaped dough, I asked, “What are these?”
“Those are crustella.”
“I love them,” I declared, swirling the bite in the goo. Luca laughed at me. “I’ve never had so much food.”
“I knew you were hungry,” Luca mumbled, licking sauce from his fingers. “You are too thin.”
“Cause she works all the time,” Jake claimed as I shot him a glare.
Wiping his hands on the napkin, Luca chuckled. “May I borrow her for a moment?”
“Of course,” Jake said as Luca stood and offered me his hand. His men returned to clean up the meal which looked like we hadn’t touched it.
“I want the crustella!” I yelled as Luca drug me through the kitchen.
With a mischievous grin, he glanced over his shoulder. “You know, I can have them make you some fresh.”
We stepped outside into the darkened alley. The black streets were slick from the rain as I noted the only car parked out back. It hit me then how far Luca had come in his world. He was sitting at the big boy table and running the Boston outfit with hopes of expansion. Opening the door to the back seat, I slid in.
“You know Jake is in there.”
“You think I care?” Luca muttered with a seductive grin. “I’ve kept his ass out of the clink and out of the ground for years. If I want to spend fifteen minutes or an entire night with his girlfriend, I can.”
I smiled as tears threatened to spill. “I can’t do this, Luca.”
“But you want to,” he arrogantly mentioned, undoing
his pants and freeing his cock. “You know you do…”
“You have quite the nerve,” I said, smacking his arm. He grabbed my wrist and brought my body to straddle him.
“… Lift your dress, Anna.”
Shaking my head, I laughed. “You don’t get to feed me and then fuck me.”
His finger ran over the single tear on my cheek and down my neck to my breasts. Beneath my dress, he cupped one and thumbed at my nipple as I gasped. “I don’t?” He didn’t stop. Carefully, he pulled my breast from the dress and sensually sucked. “Lift your dress, Anna. Now.”
Gathering the fabric around my waist, I leaned closer, and he kissed me as I felt his hand and cock between us. He was going to be inside of me in seconds if I didn’t stop him. He was ruthless as I fell prey to his relentless mouth. He sank deep into my wetness. “Oh, God… You are so bad!”
“You love it,” he boasted, rocking his cock up into me. “I wish I had more time. I’d watch that pretty mouth suck me.”
The lights of the alleyway turned hazy as I shuttered my eyes closed and moved on him. “I’d swallow every drop, Sir.”
“I fucking know,” he groaned as I laid my hands on his shoulders. “You are my greatest weakness, Anna. You have to come back soon. We cannot wait so long.”
“Luca, I cannot keep having an affair with you.” I salivated as we fucked like horny teenagers. He was breathing heavy. I was panting. “Because I just want more.”
“… You don’t think I do?” he asked as I caught the shimmer in his eyes. “I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. You were a spitfire then, and you still are now, but I will not put you in danger. And I am a dangerous man.”
God, if he only knew.
“So are we just going to meet up every few years and fuck like rabbits?”
“Whatever it takes,” he growled, grabbing hold of my hips. “You’re always so wet for me. You get me so hard. And all I want to do is keep my dick inside of you all night long.”
Bad Girl (Les Pétales) Page 15