Baby for the Beast

by Penelope Bloom

  “Are you going to help me at all here?” I ask Jess.

  She holds her hands up. “I’m not getting involved in this one. If it goes bad, I know you’ll blame me. But she’s not wrong. You could really use a man. Like really. I’ve seen what you wear on your days off… It’s, well.”

  “Everybody wears pajamas on their days off,” I say a little sulkily.

  “Most people change out of them when they leave the house,” Jess goads.

  I ignore her. My pajamas are cute, even if it’s maybe a little unusual to wear them out of the house. “I still don’t see how a guy is going to change anything.”

  “It’ll remind you that sex is fun, and that maybe it’d be worth making guys want to sleep with you.” Jess quirks up an eyebrow in my direction.

  “I know sex is fun,” I say dryly. In theory. I’ve had sex, obviously, but I don’t add how awkward and completely not fun it was. Maybe I could chalk it up to bad partners in college with too little experience, but my run-ins with the male penis didn’t exactly leave me looking for a reunion.

  “Mhmm,” Jess murmurs unbelievingly.

  “So?” Cassie asks. “I can text him right now and tell him you’re on for tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I ask. “It just seems too sudden. I really don’t know.” I do though. I already decided I’m interested enough. I just need one more push over the edge.

  “You can just text me ‘help’ if it’s going bad and I’ll bail you out, I promise,” Jess says with way more enthusiasm than necessary.

  I sigh, chewing my lip before finally nodding my head. Cassie relaxes her shoulders and blows out a relieved breath—why does that seem like a strange reaction? I don't get time to think about it though because a quick glance at my phone tells me I've already taken a longer lunch than I intended.

  “You have my number,” I say, standing up and taking a hasty bite of my barely-touched sandwich. “Have him call me after I get off at six to set it up. And if this date is a disaster,” I say to Jess. “I’m still going to blame you. Especially if he strips down to a leather thong or something and tries to whip me.”

  I meet him at a modern looking restaurant downtown that sits near the river. He offered to pick me up, but I decided to get my own ride. Our communication has been via text so far, leaving me completely in the dark about what I should expect when he arrives. I never even got his last name from Cassie so I couldn’t stalk him on social media for a picture. Meeting a total stranger for the first time in his car felt like a bad idea. I wanted to be on neutral ground so I could make a quick and painless escape if things went south.

  I never spend much time in this area of town, and the restaurant he picked is one I’d never even heard of. Everything on the East end of the river is insanely expensive, and despite my seemingly nice salary, I’m going to be paying off my school loans for the next fifteen years, so I try to live as frugally as I can. It’s beautiful here though. There’s an amazing view of the lakewater speckled with broken reflections of the city lights. The temperature is just how I like it, even—only the slightest bite in the air, but not so cold I needed to wear a coat.

  Even though I’m wearing my best dress, I feel a little too casual compared to some of the couples heading into the restaurant in suits and elegant formal dresses.

  “Neela?” asks a rough voice beside me. It’s deep with an undercurrent of gravel and grit that rolls pleasantly across my ears.

  I turn and have to tilt my head up a little because the man is tall, taller even than Mike. But where Mike is lanky and frail, this man is all solid strength—broad and athletically built. His beard is flecked with a hint of gray. The way his eyes seem to bore straight through me and strip me down to my most basic parts is both unnerving and deeply flattering. Until this moment, I always thought it was a turn of phrase to call someone breathtaking. One look at him, and I can feel my lungs squeezed empty of air, throat tight and lips parted. I've seen unbelievably attractive men before, but the realization has always been a distant, detached thing. I don't know if it's just sudden desperation fueled by Cassie's prodding, but there's nothing distant or detached about the way I feel attracted to him.

  There’s an instinctual tug toward him, stronger than gravity and more inevitable than the tides. It’s as if the only way to keep from falling into this man is to resist, to fight and struggle for all I’m worth, even though I’ll eventually grow too tired to continue fighting.

  But I’m not ruled by my instincts. I force my brain to take the driver’s seat and push down the little voice inside me that already wants to jump his bones.

  “Enzo?” I ask. “I was expecting someone not gorgeous,” I blurt as I reach to shake his hand—is shaking hands a thing when meeting a date? Should I have hugged him? Am I already letting my awkward hang out?

  He takes my hand with a strange expression on his face, considering me. I’d give anything to know what was going through his head right now, though I can guess he’s probably wondering what kind of socially challenged woman Cassie set him up with. I briefly consider walking straight into the river so I can sink to the bottom and won’t have to live with my disaster of an introduction

  Get a grip, Neela. He's just a guy, even if he kind of looks like a bigger version of Adam Levine and that's making you feel all wobbly-kneed and putty-brained. You're a doctor, for God's sake. You can do this.

  Unfortunately, my brain still feels like a bowl of mush, and I can't seem to stop flashing him awkward smiles as he looks down at me.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  3

  Enzo

  Her hand feels so small in mine, so fragile. One look at her and one touch of her milky, soft skin tells me all I need to know. I’ll still follow orders. I’ll take her hostage. I’ll even send the message to her father once I have her: Drop the case, or we'll send your daughter back to you piece by piece. I’ll do my fucking job, but first? I’m going to enjoy this woman. Get to know her before I’m forced to make her hate me. Because it only took a glance for me to know she’s different. She’s special.

  Above everything else, I have to have her.

  She isn’t one of the mindless women who float around the crew in hopes of fucking the right guy, waiting to elbow their way up the chain of mafia wives and girlfriends. She’s real, and fuck do I want to have my hands on something real again, even if it’s only for a night, even if It’s going to make what I have to do that much harder.

  I put my arm around her unthinkingly, but I let my hand splay across her waist so I can enjoy how small she feels and how her warmth seeps up through her dress.

  “Come on, let’s go in,” I say.

  I nearly chuckle at myself. My voice sounds stiff, but why shouldn’t it? Whether I want to admit it or not, I can feel this woman already wrapping a choke-hold around me. In my line of work, I can’t afford to get attached. I can’t afford to want.

  Normally, I’d have the decency to walk away from Neela before it even went this far. I could practically smell her innocence from ten yards off. I’d know something so sweet and pure shouldn’t be dragged into my world. Corrupted. I’ve spent most of my life working toward getting the Luciani family closer to legit, but it hasn’t been easy work, and it hasn’t been clean. My father’s orders to take this girl hostage are evidence enough of that.

  Orders. I already need to remind myself I’m here on a job, like any other. Rule number one is not to let anything come between you and the job. That’s how people fuck up. They let personal shit get in the way and they slip up. In the world of organized crime, slipping up means you’re dead or behind bars. No exceptions.

  Wanting her would be a slip-up. Getting attached would be a slip-up.

  So I won’t let it be complicated or personal. I’ll just take. I’ll take everything she’ll give me and more. I’ll devour her. Ruin her. And then I’ll do my job, just like I’ve always done.

  She’s clearly uncomfortable, but she’s trying her best to look re
laxed and make conversation.

  “So how do you know Cassie?” she asks as we walk into the restaurant. She’s speaking a little faster than natural, voice coming out tight and rushed. Nervous? You probably should be, sweetheart.

  “Cassie?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. How do I know her? My cousin blackmailed her into setting this date up. If she didn’t do it, he’d send the nudes she gave him to everybody she ever knew. "Friend of a friend," I say. The lie comes easily, naturally. Somewhere along the way, I got good at lying. Too good. The trick is to keep it simple. Don't over explain. Don't plan the lie ahead of time.

  The concierge looks startled when he sees me. He flashes Neela and I a somewhat terrified smile and then rushes to the best seat in the restaurant, where a couple is finishing up their dinner. After a quiet but heated exchange, the couple gets up and storms out of the restaurant, not making eye contact with Neela or me as they leave. Everybody pretends not to notice. That's how it works in fancy places like this. The civilized thing to do is pretend nothing out of the ordinary is worthy of attention. It always amazes me how these people can keep their noses turned so far up while still keeping their eyes down—blind to anything but the pointless games they play.

  Neela watches them with a confused expression. “What was that?” she asks.

  “They must’ve given up our reservation by mistake,” I say. Another lie. I’m already making good headway, I guess. If I don’t want to get attached to the girl, what better way than to start things off with a cozy bed of lies?

  “This way,” says the concierge.

  Neela still looks concerned after we’ve taken our seats. “Did he kick them out of their seats for us?”

  “We could offer to give them their seats back, but if you make me skip dinner, you had better be planning to give me a taste of something else.”

  Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red. She’s a blusher. My cock stirs when I try to imagine if she’s the type to blush while she’s getting fucked too.

  “I don’t—” she stammers.

  “You’re used to the games?” I ask. Part of me tries to hold back, to keep things comfortable for her and normal. After all, this could be her last normal night out for a very long time if her father doesn’t want to cooperate. I can’t control it though. I haven’t wanted something as bad as I want the taste of her in my mouth in ages, and I’m not a man who settles for disappointment.

  “Games?” she asks.

  “We sit down to dinner, go through the motions, you eat, I eat, we make small talk. But I already know I’m not going to be satisfied until I have you. All of you,” I add quietly. “So we can keep playing the game if that’s how you want it, or we can cut to the chase. Your call.”

  Her temptation is written so plainly across her features that I could almost laugh. You’re desperate, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hungry for it you probably can’t even think straight.

  She clears her throat and stares at her lap for a moment, waving away the waiter when he tries to bring us water and tell us about the wine selection.

  “The games, as you call them,” she says finally. Her tone surprises me. She’s bristling with anger, even as I can see her squirming with need, probably so wet she’s soaking her panties. “Are called a date. It’s the difference between grabbing every attractive person you see on the street and just—just—sleeping with them,” she says in a furious whisper, like she’s worried a teacher is going to throw an eraser at her head if she says it too loud. “So no. I don’t want to ‘cut to the chase.’ I don’t even want to pretend I’m helping a friend or have an emergency,” she slams her napkin down on the table and starts to stand. “I’m just leaving. Maybe learn a little subtlety and you’ll have more luck next time.”

  All I can do is watch her in amazement. I’ve been with my fair share of women. I thought I’d seen every shape and size. I’ve been turned down and I’ve been cussed out, but the part that is blowing my mind about Neela is I can see how badly she wants to fuck me. She’s in an all-out war of body and mind right now, and I’m impressed as hell that her mind seems to be in control. Granted, I know there’s no way she can last much longer, which is probably why she’s trying to leave. One way or another, I just became a hell of a lot more interested in this woman, if that is even possible. It’s only going to make things harder when I have to kidnap her, but I can push that to the back of my thoughts for now, even if I’m feeling like more of a scumbag by the minute for it.

  “Stay,” I say. I make sure there’s a bite of command in my voice, testing how natural her desire to submit might be. Surely enough, she hesitates. From the way her eyes dart to mine, she’s not used to being ordered around, and she doesn’t quite know how to react. “We’ll compromise,” I say. “You get your date. I’ll play nice. And then I’ll fuck you tonight.”

  That same shade of red floods her cheeks again. “I’ll agree to the date part. Only because I’m starving,” she adds unconvincingly.

  She looks like she’s going to say more, but she swallows it down.

  Any other woman and we’d already be tangled up somewhere behind a closed door by now, but this little, innocent thing is managing to put up her walls to me, no matter how flimsy. Before, I was impatient to fuck her, but now? Now I want to let this play out. I want to enjoy imagining how she looks beneath that dress, how good the weight of her tits will feel in my hands and how unbelievable it’s going to be when I get my dick wet in that tight pussy of hers. Most of all, I’m going to enjoy watching the frail walls she’s trying to put up against me come down piece by crumbling piece.

  You’re already mine sweetheart. You just don’t know it yet.

  I can feel the real me somewhere deep inside rebelling against my plan. If I look deep enough, I can see the man I was before duty shaped me into this… shell. Maybe that’s all I am anymore. A cold, hard shell, because there’s no room for soft spots in my life. The strange part is, I hadn’t even stopped long enough to think about it in years, and it’s only now that I can comprehend how long ago I left myself behind. Despite barely knowing her, Neela stirs that part of me awake, making it crave to come back to the surface and replace the ghost of a man I’ve become.

  Careful, I think. She’s just a job. Just another fucking job, and I’m just exhausted after the week I’ve had. That’s all. She’s nothing special.

  "Tell me about your job." I lean back, not caring so much what she says but how she says it and how she reacts to the sudden change of pace. Some people can hide themselves in quiet moments, but with the right provocation, even the most stubborn will reveal more than they intend.

  She looks surprised for a moment, but recovers well enough. “It’s about what you’d expect. I help animals. The hours are long sometimes but it’s rewarding.”

  It’s a surface-level answer, just a rehearsed line she has regurgitated so many times she probably hasn’t stopped to ask herself if it’s true in years. So I wait. It’s an old trick I learned back when I convinced myself I could get an education and maybe find a way to avoid the path my father was paving for me. That was another life. Another me. But some of the psychology classes I took back then still rattle around in my head from time to time, so I make use of what I can. One of the greatest tools in a psychologist’s bag when it comes to getting people to open up is silence. Used correctly, it draws out more truth than any question could ever hope to.

  Sure enough, she wilts under the pressure of silence after only a few seconds, speaking more naturally now. "I mean, I guess I always thought it'd be different. I got into it because I love animals, but honestly, it's kind of a horrible job in some ways if you love animals. They don't come to see me because they're happy. They come because they're hurting, and most of the time people don't have the money to pay for treatment or preventatives, so I just have to watch sick animals leave. I have to help put them down when they're too far gone and…" She laughs softly at herself, shaking her head and looking up at me through suddenly wat
ery eyes. "Listen to me. Gosh,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

  “I am,” I say.

  She watches me a few moments before giving me a small, strange smile. “You are,” she agrees. “You’re doing better now, blind date. Maybe I’ll give you another five minutes on the clock before I pull my escape excuse out.”

  “Oh?” I ask with a grin. “I’m on the clock now?”

  She purses her lips. “You think you deserve any better after your behavior tonight?”

  I clench my teeth to keep from saying what wants to come out, the dirty promises I want to make about exactly how bad my behavior is going to get once I get her alone. The amusement fades when I’m reminded how fucked up it is that I’m doing this with a woman I know I have to kidnap. Even if I tried to back out though, it wouldn’t help. My father would send someone else to do the job, and someone else would get their hands on Neela.

  I squeeze my hands into fists under the table at the thought of it. Some other asshole taking her back to his place, probably planning all sorts of fucked up things for her when they see how gorgeous she is. Maybe it’d be Luca, Toby, or even Chase. I don’t know which one would be the worst. Luca would be the most likely to try something slimy. Nico will fuck anything that walks, but he likes his women easy and doesn’t have a hint of taste. And Chase? He’d probably end up charming her out of her dress.

  Fuck.

  Even thinking about the guys from my crew with Neela has me grinding my teeth and feeling like I need to break something.

  I just have to keep reminding myself. If I refuse. They’ll take her instead. They’ll take her and my father might decide to end me for my disobedience. It’s the Luciani way. You’re family until you’re not. Step out of line, disobey the wrong order, make a big enough mistake... Any of it could be your last move, and I have little doubt that my father would overlook something like this, especially from his own son. He’d need to make an example out of me to keep the respect of his men, and he wouldn’t hesitate. We need Neela’s father to play ball. We need him to drop the case. Without his girl on the line, there’s next to no chance he’d ever cave. I briefly consider the possibility of convincing my father to kidnap her sister instead, but dismiss it quickly as it’s just as fucked up an idea as this, and wouldn’t really change how big of a mess this is going to be.