Cowboy's Fake Fiancée: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  Her heart was racing and it felt as if something was squeezing the very air from her lungs as she walked up to her room. She had to tell him, but she didn’t know how or when. The words were on the tip of her tongue, when she felt her stomach cramp. Without a word, she rushed into her room shutting the door in Louis face, and rushed to the bathroom. This was an utter disaster, she thought as she hunched over the toilet.

  Chapter 13

  Louis knew instantly that Belinda was not well, she was nervous and pale, and the way she bolted into her room had him worried. Concerned about her health he called their family doctor to see to her.

  “Thank you for coming around Doctor, I’m quite concerned about my fiancé, she doesn’t seem well. It could very well just be stress, but I’d prefer if you could take a look,” he said as he walked alongside the doctor taking him upstairs.

  “What are her symptoms?” the doctor asked.

  “Tired, pale, overall she seems quite edgy. She recently lost her father as you know, and with the wedding drawing close, I think it might just be stress,” he said quietly as they stood outside the room.

  “Well that could very well be the case, but I’ll take a look and run a few tests to make sure all is in order.”

  Louis opened the door for the doctor and then waited outside. This entire arrangement was handled incorrectly from day one, he thought as he paced in front of the door. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for allowing his father to influence his choices like this. He should have refused the arrangement and taken the brunt of his father’s rage instead of being such a coward. Now the woman he has slowly started to fall in love with is ill, and it was his fault. From the shy timid creature she was when he first met her, she now displayed the characteristics of a true Donna, unmoved and pokerfaced. She even refused to attend her father’s funeral, who knows what was going on in her mind.

  A little while later the doctor asked Louis to join him and he couldn’t help but feel the immense sense of sadness as he looked down at Belinda where she lay staring out the window, her skin pale against the dark hair that framed her face.

  “How is she?” he asked tentatively, taking her hand in his, surprised that she didn’t pull away from him.

  “She does show some signs of stress but it’s very normal when a woman’s body undergoes such extreme changes during pregnancy…” the doctor started.

  “Scusami, pregnant?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, that is correct. She’s about four weeks now,” the doctor said and turned his attention to Belinda, “Signora, you would need to visit my rooms as soon as you feel up to it so that we can make sure everything is in order, but your blood pressure seems fine.”

  Louis stood in shock as he looked down at Belinda. This was the last thing he expected, he had assumed she was on birth control like most women should be in this day and age. How could she possibly be pregnant?

  He walked the doctor to the door and let him find his own way out then came to sit beside her.

  “Did you know you were pregnant?” he asked trying not to sound accusing.

  “No, I didn’t,” she said without looking his way.

  “Belinda, look at me. Were you not on birth control?” he asked trying to control his impatience.

  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 way, 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

  Enjoyed this book?

  Click Here to join Our Romance Connoisseurs’ Club and receive a FREE copy of Her Fake Fiancé Billionaire Boss.

  Convicted

  Jason

  Clink!

  I glanced behind me at the finality of the sound as the security gate of Kenworth maximum security prison slid into place. After eight long years, with two years suspended service, I was finally on the other side. A little older, a little wiser, and a hell of a lot more jaded. If the judge had worried about the threat I had posed to society all those years ago, he had no idea what I was capable of now.

  I was only twenty-two years old, a man or rather a boy, with future plans when I was tried and found guilty for my crime. My age hadn’t given me any reprieve. In fact, it had made me a walking target. It didn’t matter that I was in for involuntary manslaughter. My fellow inmates took one look at the baby face and scrawny frame and only saw fresh meat.

  That first night had been hell. I barely made it out with my life. A bruised liver, four cracked ribs, a myriad of cuts, and a broken jaw had put me in the infirmary for six weeks.

  Battered and bruised, with my jaw wired shut, I lay there wishing someone would come finish the job. But to my dismay, no one came. The ribs healed, and the bruises faded; physically I recovered, but my soul was forever tainted and bruised.

  The pretentious state doctor even had the gall to say, I wouldn’t have any lasting effects from the incident. But apparently, the four-inch scar that ran diagonally down over my right eye and down to the corner of my mouth, made me look less like a pampered princess and more like a hard-core criminal to be feared by my inmates. I had damn near lost my eyesight. If I hadn’t tripped over a crate and fallen backward, the blade would have sliced through more than just my brow and cheek. It would have taken my eye with it. It was that defining moment, as the bandages came off and the doctor smirked at me, as if I was a no-good piece of trash, that I realized I was truly on my own.

  The assault continued, throughout most of my sentence, and although the incidents that followed weren’t even close to the extent of the first one, I feared for my life day in and day out. Closer to my release, Warden Saunders took pity on me and offered me six months of solitary confinement. I eagerly accepted.

  I didn’t spend those six months in solitary confinement feeling sorry for myself, hell no! Instead, I focused on getting stronger, meaner and craftier. When I was locked in my cell, I spent every waking hour working out, using my own body weight as resistance. I was only allowed outside for one hour a day, but I made the most of it, using the gym equipment, come rain or sunshine, mentally and physically preparing myself for the day I walked out of this god forsaken place.

  At first, I could hardly do one rep without my arms quaking with the attempted effort, but it was the steely resolve within that enabled me to ignore the snickers and taunts from the guards, that kept me going. When my muscles screamed with fatigue and tears burned the back of my eyes, I forced myself to do ten more reps.

  I ate every scrap of food I could get my hands on. It wasn’t difficult to put on weight in prison, the food mostly carbs and saturated fat. But, turning it into muscle took time and discipline. I had both.

  When I wasn’t lifting weights, or doing endless squats, I was shadowboxing in my tiny four-foot by the six-foot cell, working on my technique and speed.

  In solitary confinement, I could read as many books as I wanted. Although they limited my book choices, no martial arts or boxing how-to books, I found ways to get around it by reading biographies on Evander Holyfield, Royce Gracie, and Muhammad Ali. I was even able to get my hands-on books about Pilates and tai-chi and adapted their moves to create my own unique fighting style. I was determined to be ready when I was moved back into general population. I was relentless in my pursuit of strength, speed, and power, and for a good reason.

  My skills were tested the first night back in my normal cell, and a few times after that. But this time I held my own. I had managed to put on twenty pounds of solid muscle but more importantly, I had improved my speed and my agility. I quickly made a name for myself as being dangerous and ruthless. That reputation had served me well.

  Dwelling on the past wasn’t something I liked to do; it was the one closet full of skeletons I would rather keep locked up. I took one last look at the place that had been my own personal living hell. The
re was nothing else left for me there. Determined to close the door on Kenworth just like it had closed the doors on me, I turned my back and headed down the road toward the rundown bus shelter that sat across the street a few yards away from the prison. The vestibule had seen better days and reeked of stale cigarettes and urine. Not much different to prison. I chose to lean against the frame, figuring it was the least contaminated spot as I waited.

  There was no bus schedule posted on the shelter, and I had no watch to tell me what time it was, but the bus ticket in my front left pocket read 8 pm. Besides the clothes on my back, a piece of paper with the name and phone number of my parole officer and an old wrinkled photograph were the only things I was taking with me upon my release.

  The sun was beginning to set, and it would be dark soon. As if on cue, the lone streetlight flickered to life, emitting a dim glow. They had begun processing my release at 5 pm, and that had taken all of fifteen minutes. Assuming it had taken another fifteen minutes to walk through all the security checkpoints and the gate, I was in for a long wait. It wasn’t like I wasn’t good at that. These past eight years, I’d had a lot of time on my hands and patience became my best friend. For many months, hell even the first couple of years, anger and hate fueled my determination. It lit a fire in my belly and kept me focused. I would lie in bed plotting my revenge on the people that had doubted my word, the court system that had failed me, and the people who had failed to protect my baby sister from that child predator.

  Gladys Winston’s pinched face came to my mind, a withering old crone. The rage that I thought had long been suppressed threatened to boil to the surface at the thought of that old hag. I refused to think of her as family, despite her son Wallace Jr., having married our mother a few years after our father had died. I blamed her for ending up in prison in the first place. She just couldn’t believe that her one and only son could be such a monster. She had blatantly lied under oath to protect the sick bastard, claiming that I had violent tendencies even as a child. Fake tears had trickled down her cracked cheeks as she claimed to have desperately tried to persuade her precious son Wallace to send me to a home for wayward boys. To get me the help, I so desperately needed. But his kind heart wouldn’t allow him to give up on me. The lies just flowed freely from her thin, dry lips after that. She went on to claim that I had not had the best male role model growing up, implying that my biological father had been an alcoholic and that’s why he had died. The jury had eaten it up like sweetcakes at a fair.