She whipped her head around and glared at him, “No I was not. What seems to be the problem Louis, are you afraid that I might trick you into marrying me?” she bit out harshly.
“You know it’s not like that,” he countered.
“Do you think this is what I wanted, a baby born into the mafia!?” she said raising her voice.
“Calmati,” he said and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I just didn’t expect this,” he said quietly.
“Well neither did I, so here we are. Getting married in a few days, and I’m having your baby. Instant family isn’t that just brilliant,” she bit out sarcastically.
“Bella, please don’t stress yourself out, we can hold off with the wedding…”
“No, I will not walk down the aisle looking like a house or give anyone reason to think I am a promiscuous gold digger,” she said bitterly, “we will wed as planned.”
She had a point, everyone will think he is marrying her because she is with child, and the gossipmongers will have a field day. He just wished she could show more compassion, he wanted her the way she was when he first met her.
“As you will, mio cara, we will continue as planned.”
“I’m tired,” she said quietly turning her back on him.
“Get some rest, I’ll bring you some food later, and we can talk about the wedding then.”
He stood looking at her for a brief moment and then quietly left her to rest, closing the door behind him.
Although he didn’t expect this to happen he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing he was going to be a father. Maybe in time she would grow to love him and they would become a true family.
Chapter 14
Four weeks later…
With the passing of her father, the wedding was postponed but finally the inevitable day had arrived. She stood looking at herself in the mirror, the wedding dress was even more beautiful than she expected. Thankfully there were no signs of pregnancy as yet. Although her breasts were tender, she had gotten over most of her morning sickness which was a relief. To her surprise, Louis went out of his way to give her whatever her heart desired to make this day as perfect as it could possibly be. He even got Natalie to attend the wedding so that she could be the maid of honor.
“You look amazing Bee,” Natalie said as she tucked some of the stray strands of hair back in place, “I still can’t believe this is all happening so fast.”
“It was love at first sight,” she said quietly and stepped off the pedestal.
“You’re so damn lucky.”
You have no idea, she thought.
A slight knock on the door drew her attention but before Natalie could inquire who it was, Louis stepped into the room.
“Hey! You’re not allowed to see the bride before the wedding!” she cried and tried to shove him back out the door.
“I have to see Belinda, it is of utmost importance.”
Belinda looked at him and noticed the serious look on his face, then nodded at Natalie, “It’s okay Nat, will you give us a moment?”
“Ugh, this is such bad luck,” her friend mumbled and walked out of the room.
Louis could hardly take his eyes of Belinda, she was the most beautiful bride he had ever seen, and although he would want nothing more but to have her promise her entire life to him, he had a pressing matter to discuss. And this could very well be the end of this fairytale wedding.
“I had some of my men investigate an issue that has been on my mind for some time now,” he started and walked to the window, “Remember when you mentioned the accountant?”
“Yes?” she said curiously.
“We’ll I never made that arrangement, my father did. So I had him investigated.” He turned to her and took both her hands in his.
“It is true that our parents promised us to each other when we were just children, but my father had ulterior motives. You see, El Pescore has been a front for my father, it was the only way he could invest his money in the United States…” Louis started to explain. He told her how he found out about his father’s business, and how he used El Pescore’s Italian food supplier as a front to legitimize the movement of money from Italy to America.
Belinda was shocked to the core. All this time her pride and joy was a sham. She slowly sat down on the bed with a hundred and one questions flooding her mind.
“I want you to listen to me. I have already moved my father’s assets away from your restaurant, and signed the business over into my name,” Louis said as he stood on his haunches in front of her, “but my father will soon find out, and when he does all hell will break lose. The only way I can secure your safety is if you were my wife.”
For a moment her mind went blank, but clarity soon descended on her and she looked at Louis with both determination and admiration. She knew that what he had done was dangerous but the fact that he did this for her must mean that he cared.
“Is El Pescore in danger of being closed down or destroyed?” she asked.
“No, with El Pescore no longer the front, it will be meaningless for him to pursue it and I will ensure that nothing happens to your restaurant or to your staff.”
“Good, then I will marry you,” she said quietly.
Louis stood up and dragged his hands through his hair, “That’s just it. I don’t want you to just marry me. I want you to want to marry me. I want our child to know that his parents care for each other.”
That took her for a loop, and she wasn’t quite sure she understood what he wanted. Over the past few weeks after her father’s death, Louis was compassionate and understanding and somewhere between, I hate you and I forgive you, she fell in love with him, not to mention that she now carried his child. But it was a realization she opted to bury forever. It took her weeks to come to terms with the fact her love for him would be unrequited.
“You want me to want to marry you?” she asked tilting her head.
“Si, marriage without love is nothing but a business transaction,” he said and kissed the palm of her hand. “I want our child to have a happy home.”
When he did things like that she could not fault him. She wanted him and from his declaration he wanted her too. She sat for a moment and contemplated her future.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
“I didn’t believe this to be possible, but you’ve changed me somehow. And knowing that I might marry a woman who does not love me made me reconsider…” he started and then came to sit next to her, “I am in love with you, which is why I don’t want you to marry me if there is any doubt in your heart or mind.”
She could feel the tears prick her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. For weeks she tried to be strong, harden her heart and show everyone that she was a force to be reckoned with. A woman who refused to let circumstance and tragedy weaken her, but now she could barely keep it together.
“I am in love with you too,” she whispered.
“Mio dolce amore, then we shall marry and take this world by storm. I will protect you and our child all of my days.”
Suddenly her walls crumbled down and a sob ripped through her chest. All her pent up emotions like a raging river, broke the walls that she fought so hard to keep erected.
“Once we are married, I will go with you to New York, and we will start afresh there,” he said as he cupped her face in his hands.
“What will happen when your father finds out about El Pescore?” she asked searching his eyes.
“Let me worry about that, mio caro, I’m his son, and you are now his daughter-in-law, he will find other ways to manage his business. I will help him set up a shelf company in the United States, one that will have no strings to El Pescore or the Benedetti’s,” he reassured her and then pressed his lips against her, kissing her softly.
***
After the wedding, they both left for New York to start their own family. Belinda accepted the fact that her life will never be the same, but with Louis by her side and their child on the w
ay, she knew she could face any circumstance. After her father passed away, she assumed the position as the Donna Benedetti in the largest Mafia Family in the United States.
Louis earned his father’s respect, despite the fact that he created a shelf company for his family, withdrawing El Pescore as the front for the mafia.
****
THE END
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Home At Last: A Single Dad Romance
May
A glance in the rearview leaves me sure no one is following me. Not that there’s anyone to follow me anyway. Out here, under the stifling Texas sun, I realize I’ve driven nearly six hundred miles and I’m tired.
The kind of tired that’s sinking right down deep into my bones. But that scared side of me tells me to keep running. I have to keep going. I haven’t gone far enough.
Pushing aside the troubling thoughts, I try to settle into happier times, happier memories. Out here, on an old dirt road that reminds me of home, I’ve seen a few gates between stretches of fenced land. The gates have huge wooden frames of old logs that are a throwback the time when Texas was truly wild. Hung from each wooden frame is a name; the name of the ranch proudly on display. One creeps up on me now: Mustang Ranch.
I slow down as I notice an odd-looking bit of paper clinging to the beam on the right side of the frame.
Help wanted.
It’s like every prayer I’ve ever said that’s gone unanswered has suddenly left me here, finally heard and saved.
Before I can change my mind, I pull in before the closed gate. I sit for a moment. Am I really doing this? Am I crazy? I can’t stop. I haven’t put enough distance between me and…
It’ll be fine.
With a deep breath, I calm myself and I get out of my old car. It’s on its last legs after the punishing drive we’ve just endured. The sky just seems to stretch on endlessly as I open the gate before heading back to my car to pull through. On the other side, I get back out and close the gate behind me. Might as well make a good first impression, right?
What was that old rule dad made sure I remembered? A closed gate must be closed behind oneself.
The drive is dirt and rough, potholes claim my tires and jolt the car. Along both sides, fences trap plots of land and pastures stretch as far as the eye can see. The sparse grasses and few trees offer spotty shade to majestic-looking horses of many colors that stand in groups of two and threes.
I drive slowly, but still, my tires kick up enough dust to announce my presence long before I ever even see the house.
When the house comes into view, I feel my jaw drop. It’s not an old ranch house; it’s an old ranch mansion. It’s like a cross between an old plantation mansion and a castle. My heart thunders in my chest as I pull up and park my car.
They’re looking for help, I remind myself. I know that Texas is a stand your ground state, but the sign said they’re looking for help. Besides, what self-respecting man would shoot an unarmed, obviously tired woman?
With slow steps, I walk up the sprawling porch, loving the white swinging loveseat and the several matching white wicker chairs. This place reminds me more of home than home did in its final glory days.
I step up to the door and gather my courage to knock. Before I can, the door swings open and I find myself under the intense brown stare of a man who’s taller than me by a foot and a half at least. He leans on the doorframe, his imposing form enough to make every drop of saliva dry up on my tongue.
His heavy brow, shiny black hair and tanned skin all make up an incredibly handsome face. His eyes are hooded, like he trusts no one and nothing, his jaw is wide and powerful and working like he’s clenching it and deciding whether or not to shoot me.
Maybe he should shoot me. Put me out of my misery.
Suddenly, he smiles and it’s like the sun parting heavy gray thunderclouds. “Ma’am,” he says, tipping his hat. “May I help you?”
At a loss for words, I turn and gesture back to the gate that’s easily several miles down the drive. “I’m May. You’re looking for help?” My voice sounds small and breathless, even to me and I see his eyes narrow a bit before someone behind him calls out something I don’t quite hear.
“A lady inquiring about the job,” he says over his shoulder and I hear laughter. My face flames red hot and I turn to walk away, an apology quick on my lips.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time--”
The words die as a strong hand curls around my arm just above my elbow and stops me dead in my tracks. I turn to face the man and notice there’s not even a hint of amusement in his face.
“Can you work hard, miss?” he asks, all seriousness that send my heart fluttering like a scrap of paper caught in the wind.
“I can,” I say, wondering why I can hardly draw a deep breath.
He looks me up and down, his hand falling away from me like he realized he’d been touching me for much longer than is proper. “You’re not suitable for a ranch hand, but I might have something else for you,” he says slowly, his eyes wandering across my face like he’s committing my features to memory – or like he recognizes me.
Clint
May isn’t what I’m looking for as far as help is concerned. I need men. Strong, hardworking, rough men willing to take on backbreaking labor, punishing hours, and fair pay. But May, she’s so pale and fragile looking I’m not sure she could handle the simplest task I’ve got here.
Still, something in her eyes begs me to let her stay. And she looks so tired I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let her go right now. There’s a strength to her, a quiet power that leads me to believe she’s stronger than I’m giving her credit for.
Her big blue eyes are as pale as the skies behind her, and there’s a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She’s so innocent looking I find myself needing to know how old she is.
“How old are you?”
She seems relieved, and I wonder what she expected me to say. “Twenty-four,” she says, her blue eyes solemn on me. Of age. I want to let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. As she brings her hands forward to clasp before the hips of her jeans, I debate. What could I have her do?
When she draws a deep breath, I notice the gentle thrust of her breasts under the thin material of her black shirt. I’m careful not to actually look, though, and keep my eyes locked on hers. Still, she’s a beautiful girl, and it’s hard to keep my attention off her charms.
“Come in,” I say, suddenly remembering my manners. “My name’s Clint. Clint Quentin.” I can find something for her. Even now, a plan, partially formed, nags at the back of my mind. As I step back and allow her in, I hear the guys stand up and begin moving.
We’ve got some horses we’ve got to get moving from beyond the pasture they’d escaped. It’ll take all night to ride out there and drive them back home, and I realize that May might help alleviate one problem I’ve got.
“Have you ever taken care of kids?” I ask as she moves through the house to the dining room where men are filing out toward the front door. Shane lowers his shoulder as he comes to pass me and I engage my core, ready and braced for impact. He doesn’t disappoint and the clash of our shoulders would have been enough to knock a smaller man to the ground.
After what he did, he should be glad it’s not my fist across his jaw again.
“I haven’t, but I imagine it’s common sense.” May is solemn as I guide her into the emptying dining room. Carson meets my gaze and looks away, an unsure glint in his blue eyes. His harshly tanned Texas skin is rough from a layer of grit and sun.
He takes his hat in his hands and May studies him as he nods to her with a thick air of politeness. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says to her, and she nods graciously as his eyes skip to me. As always, fixed with his icy stare, I’m a bit unsettled.
“Should I saddle your horse, boss?”
“Yes,” I say, and he dips his head, “Buy me ten.”
He leaves as the last few guys file out of the room like sand whipped from the corner of a canyon by storm winds.
“Am I keeping you?” May asks, her wide blue eyes worried.
“Only a moment, miss,” I say, watching a bit of relief creep into her features. “I must ask you for a favor,” I say, and she nods.
“Anything.” The way she says it, breathless and unintentionally seductive takes me aback. Clamping down with steely control, I get back on track. I can’t be thinking about how long it’s been since I had a woman in my bed.
“My daughter, Grace, will be home from school this evening and I’ve got a long job ahead of me.” I hated to ask, but this is easier than calling on the babysitter. If only those damn mustangs hadn’t busted out. But I’d rather be there for the ride than let the guys handle it.
But I didn’t want to call the sitter. She just eyes me with disproval every second and tries too hard to make Grace be a proper little lady.
“How old is Grace?” May asks, and I wonder why that’s the first question.
“She’s five,” I say, hoping that this isn’t the detail that breaks her. Grace could use a real woman, someone soft-spoken like May to talk to her. Gertie isn’t the best adult woman figure to have on hand. She’s brash, loud mouthed, and insists that Grace be a little lady at all times and quiet. Things I’m not all that happy with. I’ve thought about finding a new sitter for a while, but I hadn’t actively been looking.
Maybe lady luck is smiling down on me today. Maybe May is the answer to a question I hadn’t known I had.
“Allergies?” May asks, and I shake my head. She looks up at me as if she doesn’t trust that I’m not holding something back. “Is there anything I need to know?” She asks, those serious blue eyes on mine.
Her full lips press together a bit and I can’t help but look at them. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch her lower lip with my thumb as if brushing away the stressed expression. It works. Her lips relax and she’s beautiful. My thumb travels toward the middle of her lower lip and there’s a sense of wonder in me that she’s softer than she looks somehow.
Seal's Professor: A Military Roommate Romance Page 41
