Dark: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (Citrione Crime Family)

by Penelope Bloom

  I nod. “I understand. Just hear me out. I can tell you where to find her. If he knows you’re targeting her, he’ll come. I know he will.”

  15

  Leo

  “They fucking what?” I say into the phone.

  “I’m telling you as a courtesy, Leo,” says Marco Bianchi. “The family still hasn’t forgiven you and your brother for the mess you made, but we’re also not about to accept the Morettis insult. As far as the rest of our world is concerned, you are still under the Bianchi wing, and the Morettis are targeting your woman. That means they are targeting us. You come back to Jersey, and we’ll extend our protection to you and your brother again.”

  I don’t bother pointing out that Marco had no problem letting my brother, Carlito, and I get targeted for the past four years. Chances are he’s using this as an excuse to backstab us because the Morettis are probably breathing down his neck. Angelo was acting outside the will of the family when he killed Nico, and the only grudge between the two families is that my brother and I are alive. But if Marco wants to try to pull some shit on me, he is welcome to try. I’m coming back either way. Julia needs me.

  I glance across the hotel room to Angelo, who is sitting cross-legged on the bed, cleaning his gun. He looks so much harder than the little brother I knew before prison, before we had to live these hard years on the run. There are lines on his once smooth face and a darkness in his eyes that was never there before.

  “Good,” I say. “We’ll be in touch.” I hang up the phone, fuming. How the hell did the Morettis find out about Julia anyway? I would have thought they put two and two together the day they saw me at the restaurant, but it has been way too long for that. They would’ve figured it out a long time ago if they were going to. Knowing she’s in danger twists my insides.

  It’s only five minutes later that I have Angelo and Carlito packed into the car. Once I explained, they both understood. They know I still hold a fire for Julia, and they know better than to get between me and my woman. My woman. I doubt she would agree with the sentiment, but tough shit. She’s mine, whether she realizes it or not, and the Morettis made the mistake of their lives when they brought her into this. I was content to just shoot back, until now. Now I’m going to go for the throat.

  I left Carlito and Angelo to meet with the Bianchis and get us all set up with our own places to stay again. It will be strange living alone after our years on the run. I got used to having the two of them around.

  I’m waiting outside Julia’s office, leaning on her same shitty Acura that has gathered a few more dents and scratches since I saw it last. The inside of her car is a mess, and it makes me grin. This was actually the last place I talked to her.

  Damn. This girl turns me sentimental. My chest is hot and I can feel my heartbeat running a little faster than normal while I wait for her. I wonder what she’ll think when she sees me here after so long. I never had a chance to explain why I had to bail on our date, and she probably just thinks I lost interest. Hell, if she carries a gun, she might even take a shot at me. I wouldn’t blame her.

  I eventually get tired of waiting and let myself into her office. There are a few people in the waiting room, but still no secretary, so I move through the waiting room and find her door. I open it and she’s sitting behind her desk, writing something on a legal pad while a depressed looking woman dabs at her eyes with tissues.

  Julia’s eyes turn to saucers when she sees me. Her mouth hangs open and her pen freezes.

  I look at the crying woman on the couch. “Get out,” I say.

  She doesn’t need to be told twice. She scrambles out of the room, crying even harder.

  I stand completely still, wanting nothing more than to just look at her again, to take in the soft lines of her face and her lush curves, to remember the color of her eyes and the way her lips curl up at the corners when she’s turned on. I missed her so fucking much.

  I duck at the last second, barely dodging the stapler she throws at my head. I frown. “What the fuck?” I ask.

  Her face is a ball of anger as she opens desk drawers, likely looking for more projectiles.

  I rush toward her just as she hefts a glass paperweight the size of her hand. I clutch her wrist, staring into her eyes. “Stop it,” I growl. Being so close is distracting me. I can smell her perfume, something faint and vaguely like vanilla.

  She looks back into my eyes, lips pressed angrily together. “You left. You just left me there.” Tears well in her eyes, but she just looks pissed, not sad.

  “I’m back now.”

  She shakes her head, making her long black hair curl around her neck, begging me to lean down and kiss her. “That’s not good enough. You left. You left me to do this all on my own.” One of the tears rolls down her cheek.

  All this? What does she mean do all this on my own? “I’m not going to make excuses, Julia. I’m back. I missed you like hell, and I want to start making it up to you.”

  Her eyebrows squeeze together and she shakes her head slowly. “It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just walk away when you feel like it and come back in here like nothing ever happened.”

  I think about telling her she’s in danger, that I need to protect her, but she doesn’t need that weighing on her mind. If she refuses to be with me, I can still watch over her and protect her. I’ll just have to do it from a distance, but I can live with that. I deserve the anger she has towards me. I try to imagine how it all must have seemed from her perspective and realize what an asshole I must look like. I come into her life, fuck her, forget her, and then come back like it’s all going to be fine. I guess I forgot how much easier it was for me to hold a flame for her all this time when I got to walk away knowing she wanted things to continue. She has had four years to accept the fact that I threw her away, and it seems like she has done a good job of it.

  “I understand,” I say, turning to walk from the room.

  Something hard bangs into the back of my head. It hurts like hell. I slap a hand to the back of my head and turn, looking at the glass paperweight on the ground and at Julia, who’s standing behind her desk, arm still outstretched from throwing it at me. Fucking bitch. I rush to her desk and lift her by the shoulders, pressing her to the wall and pinning her there with my body. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I growl.

  There’s a crazed recklessness in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have fucked you either, but I did. I guess I’m a slow learner.”

  Just the mention of fucking gets my cock hard, and I feel it pressing into her as I pin her to the wall. I could take her right now. God, I’ve wanted this so badly, for so long. It’s taking everything in me right now not to kiss her, to run my hands across her body.

  “If I let you go, will you stop attacking me?” I ask.

  “No,” she says.

  I press myself harder into her, face dangerously close to her lips. “I don’t want to let you go,” I say, voice low.

  Her eyes fall to my lips and I see hers part. I crush my mouth against her. For a second, she’s stiff against me, but then her body melts into mine, hands squeezing into the hard muscle of my back. My tongue slides into her mouth and she moans against me. I slide my hand up her blouse, moving beneath her bra to cup her tit. Her hands tug at my belt and without warning, like cold ice water being poured on the heat of my passion, I know we need to stop. I push myself off her and see the confusion in her beautiful brown eyes. Her lips and cheeks are flushed red, and her shirt is in disarray. She looks so unbelievably fuckable that I can’t believe I’m stopping, but I won’t make the same mistake again.

  The first time I took her in her office, I was selfish. I wanted what I came for and I took it when I wanted it, regardless of the consequences for her. This time I’m not going to sacrifice her well-being for my lust. I’m not going to risk her job or her happiness to get off. Not again. She deserves better than that.

  “Not here,” I say.

  It only takes a heartbeat for the last traces of passion to v
anish from her face, replaced by a cold anger that has had years to fester. “Just leave then. That’s the only thing I can count on you to do.”

  I don’t let her see how much her words bite, turning and walking out of the office without another word.

  I look at the apartment building she lives in. I had to pull a favor with one of the Bianchi’s guys who finds information to get her address. It feels a little creepy, but I don’t really care. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this mess I made for her. I’ve had a long time to think about everything that happened between us years ago, and I may not have all the answers, but I know she deserved better. She deserved a hell of a lot better, and if I can, I’m going to give it to her this time. The right way. I’m no saint though, I’m also hoping she’ll let me do more than just protect her. I want to be more than a guardian to her.

  I enter the apartment building through the front door and find a single, narrow hallway with a row of doors on both sides and a staircase leading up. The first door has a yellowing plaque that says “Landlord”. I knock twice and wait, feeling a little crazy. The door opens and a small, hunched woman missing more than a few teeth squints up at me. “Well, hello handsome,” she says, laughing so hard that she starts to cough.

  I smirk, moving closer to pat her back and help her to the couch inside her cramped apartment. “You okay, ma'am?” I ask.

  “Keep holding me like that and I will be.” She laughs again in a husky way that seems to inevitably draw coughing fits.

  I get her settled on the couch and then take a seat across from her on a folding lawn chair.

  “Did God answer my prayer for a boy toy, or are you here about an apartment?” she asks. The hint of laughter in her eyes lets me know she’s just fucking with me.

  “An apartment,” I say. “For now, at least.” I wink.

  She laughs again, slapping her knees and rocking on the couch as she coughs up something from deep inside her chest. “I’ve got a few available. Did you want the first floor or second floor?”

  “Second floor.”

  “There’s 203. That’ll be the nicest one. Barely been lived in since I renovated it last year. There’s 207 as well, but that one has seen better days. Same price, so…”

  “I’ll take 207,” I say. Julia’s room is 208, and I want to be as close as I can to her.

  She raises her eyebrows. “You sure, handsome?”

  “Yeah.” I stand, handing her an envelope with the first and last month’s rent and security deposit inside. “This should be everything.”

  She frowns in confusion, opening to leaf through the money as she speaks. “But I haven’t told you...oh. This is the right amount.” She starts trying to stand on her own, but I move to her side, taking her in my arms and helping her up.

  She hobbles to a drawer and opens it, rifling through what sounds like a pile of keys before she plucks one key out with a yellow piece of tape on the base that says “208”. I take the key and thank her, heading upstairs. The second floor is the same as the bottom floor, but someone wrote “Jazz” in red graffiti across the wall outside the staircase. I stand in the hallway, feeling my stomach turn over. I did this to her. I thought I was protecting her, but I abandoned her. I left her to this. Logically, I know I can’t be the only cause of her problems. She’s clearly still working as a therapist, which should be good money for a woman living on her own, but there must be something else going on. I hope it’s not drugs. Fuck. Thinking of Carlito and the way his eyes are always lidded and how his mind has been dulled is enough to know I never want her touching the stuff. But living in a place like this, I don’t know if I could blame her.

  I clench my fist so hard the key digs into my skin, squeezing until it hurts. I’m going to fix this. I don’t know how yet, and I don’t know what problems she faces, but I’m going to do everything I can to keep her safe and get her out of this mess.

  16

  Julia

  Lauren opens the door to her house looking a little harassed. Her hair is in disarray and her cheeks are flushed.

  “Is everything alright?” I ask.

  She forces a smile. “It’s fine. Just a little bit of a wild day with the kids.”

  My heart sinks. “Was Roman okay for you?”

  She hesitates. “He had a rough day, but really, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

  I hear the kids yelling in the background and then a loud thump. I cringe. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, you look like you had a worse day than me,” she says, gesturing for me to give her a hug.

  I wrap my arms around her and feel a surge of the emotion that has been threatening to break through. He’s back. He’s actually back. What the hell am I going to do?

  I’m forced to let her go when I hear Roman start to argue with Amelia. It sounds like they are fighting over a toy.

  “Why don’t you come in for coffee?” asks Lauren. “You look like you need to vent.”

  I smile a little guiltily. “Maybe a little.”

  “Do you want to play referee while I get a pot going or do you want me to?” she asks.

  “You get the pot started, I’ll break them up.”

  I find Roman standing on Lauren’s couch with a baby doll held high above his head. Amelia, who is about the same age as him, but a little more physically clumsy, is trying to climb the couch to get her doll back and Roman is stiff arming her every time she tries.

  “Roman Connors!” I snap.

  Both of the three year olds turn their heads toward me, mouths open in surprise and fear.

  “You give her that doll right now. I didn’t raise you to be a bully.” A wave of guilt passes through me when I wonder if maybe he learned to be a bully because he has spent his life seeing me get bullied by Ted. Is that what he thinks it is to be a man? To be a bully?

  Roman knows better than to put up a fight when I say his full name. He hangs his head and hands Amelia back her doll, even if it’s with a little more attitude than I would prefer.

  “Tell her you’re sorry.”

  “Sorry, ‘Melia,” he mutters.

  I watch the two of them go back to playing, already forgetting the drama, but I can’t. I know it’s just kids being kids, and yet I can’t help thinking about how selfish it is for me to push Leo away for my own personal reasons. The only question I should be asking is what’s best for Roman. Wouldn’t it be better for him to have a father figure? Not if that role-model is a violent killer.

  I sigh. Maybe I could give Leo another chance though, one last opportunity to show that he has changed or that he’s willing to. That is if he even wants to be involved in Roman’s life. I really don’t know what kind of man Leo is. I know he’s gorgeous, he’s a criminal, and he’s dynamite in bed—or at least on the couch. Beyond that, I don’t know nearly as much as I should.

  I sit across from Lauren at her kitchen table and warm my hands on the coffee mug. Roman and Amelia are disagreeing over who gets to be the fireman and who has to be the cat. Amelia ends up being the cat and sitting on the small cat scratching post, meowing and asking to be saved, while Roman pretends to spray her with water. I’m not sure he understands exactly what firemen do for a living.

  Lauren and I watch them for a little while, smiling. “So what’s going on?” asks Lauren.

  “He’s back,” I say.

  She was about to take a sip of coffee but sets her cup down quickly, leaning forward and bulging her eyes. “Him?”

  I laugh in disbelief and sadness. “Yeah. Him.”

  “What did he do? I mean, where did you see him? Did he call you?”

  “No. He showed up in my office.” I cover my forehead with my hand. “I kissed him. A little.”

  Lauren still hasn’t blinked. “Oh my God. What are you going to do?”

  I shake my head slowly. “I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

  She sits back, smiling distantly. “To be honest? If he’s half as sexy as you say he is, I’d just sign up to b
e friends with benefits.”

  I sigh. “Lauren, I’m serious.”

  She smirks. “Me too. Nothing says you can’t be a sexually active woman and still be a good mother. Just make him wear a condom this time,” she says with a wink.

  I can’t help grinning a little. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look and shrugs. “Well, just remember. Seeing him again could either be a huge mistake or the best thing in the world for you.”

  I laugh. “That’s helpful. It’s a good thing you’re not a practicing therapist anymore because I’d personally sign the petition to get you fired.”

  “You sleep with patients and I couldn’t counsel my way out of a paper bag. We make quite the team.”

  “He was hardly a patient. He was only in my office for fifteen minutes, and we didn’t even start a therapy session.”

  Lauren grins wide. “Now whose the shitty therapist?”

  Roman holds my hand as we head up the stairs to my apartment. I fumble for my key and put it in the lock. I’m about to open the door when the door to the vacant apartment beside mine opens. I look up in surprise, and then my surprise turns to absolute shock when I see who emerges. He wears a dark blue suit and a white undershirt with enough buttons undone to show his tanned chest and tattoos. His face is turned away from me as he locks the door. I clutch Roman’s hand even tighter.

  Leo. Leo fucking Citrione just stepped out of the apartment next door to me.

  Anger boils up in me. This man thinks he can do whatever he wants. He thinks the rules don’t apply to him, that he can just show up and force himself back into my life. “What are you doing here?” I demand.

  He turns, eyes finding me and capturing me effortlessly. I wish I didn’t feel so transfixed every time he looked at me. I wish he didn’t affect me like he does, but I can’t deny it. Just being near him is like a chemical explosion in my body. Just looking at him makes my mind flash with vivid memories of what he did to me on the couch in my office. I see his beautiful face between my legs, his huge cock positioned in front of my entrance, the muscles of his body cording and relaxing as he thrusted himself into me.