Knocked Up by the Bad Boy

by Waltz, Vanessa

  Fuck off!

  “Leave my fucking customers alone, damn it!”

  “Shut up, old man.”

  I inhale a sharp breath as another pair of footsteps walks into the bar. Is it him? Please, God, let it be him. A smooth voice makes my heart stop.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  I hear the biker’s leather squeak as he turns around. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “You better watch your fucking tone when you’re talking to me.”

  A beat of silence.

  “I’m looking for the president’s daughter. She ran off.”

  I bite my fist as Johnny speaks in a lilting tone. “Has she?” I can just see the smirk on his face.

  “You know what I think?”

  “I don’t give a shit, actually.”

  “I think that girl is in that bathroom, waiting for you to pick her up.”

  “Maybe. Maybe I need to take a piss, and you’re in the way. Maybe go fuck yourself.”

  The bartender mutters a threat. “I’m calling the police.”

  Johnny’s voice growls in response. “You do that and I’ll fuck you up.”

  “When Carlos finds out you fucked his daughter—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I can hear that little bitch in there!”

  “I don’t hear jack shit, and you’re starting to piss me off.”

  “This is no coincidence.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  The man’s tone wavers. “No.”

  Johnny’s joking voice addresses the bartender. “I think he’s saying that I intentionally banged the president’s daughter.”

  “Well—”

  “Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before I kill you?”

  Another beat of strained silence hangs, and I’m on the verge of shouting a useless warning.

  “All right, Johnny, I’m sorry.”

  Oh thank God.

  The heavy boots scrape the floor and I hear his body push from the door. I sag against the wall in relief. Seconds later my heart slams against my chest as Johnny raps his knuckles on the door.

  My hands shake as I unlatch the nail from the hook and the cheap door swings inward, revealing Johnny’s slim figure. He wears black slacks and a dark-green polo, which clings to his body in a way that makes blood rush to my skin’s surface. A heart-stopping smirk tugs at his mouth.

  “Close shave, hon.” He steps inside the bathroom and his smile falls. “Jesus, look at you!”

  I glance in the mirror as he grabs my face. His thumb gently caresses my neck, brushing over the angry marks where my father choked me. I hiss in pain and pull away.

  “That hurts.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His voice sounds calm, but I’m scared of the darkness brewing in his eyes when he pulls back.

  “That piece of shit did this to you?”

  That piece of shit is still the president of the Devils MC.

  “What happened?”

  I’m still racked with nerves, and I don’t want to look at Johnny’s hard-set jaw and tell him everything that happened. My right ear won’t work properly. The gunshot was so loud that listening to him talk is like hearing a voice through a soda can.

  His brows knit together. “We’ll talk about it in the car. Let’s go.”

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yeah. Come on.”

  A warm hand slips into mine and I jump slightly, looking down at it. He frowns at me and walks. I follow him, strangely at ease. We pass by the bar and Johnny digs through his pockets.

  The bartender shakes his head. “I don’t want it.”

  Johnny slams a small stack of fifty-dollar bills. “Take it.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Just take it, old man,” he says in a slightly harassed voice, and the bartender shuts up.

  I follow the pressure of Johnny’s hand into the sunlight. My head jerks up and down the street, looking for a hint of chrome, but I see nothing.

  “Get inside, quick.”

  I stoop down as Johnny opens the door for me, and then I collapse inside the black leather interior. The door slams shut as he effortlessly slides in next to me.

  I am saved.

  “Take me home, Chrissy.”

  Then he slams the partition shut and for some reason blood rushes to my face when he gives me that concerned look.

  “What the fuck happened up there?”

  The cold voice feels like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head.

  Chuck’s hand was reaching for me. He told me to run. And then my own father shot me.

  I bury my face in my hands. If only I had just shut my mouth and kept my fucking thoughts to myself—made up some lie about why I went to Le Zinc—none of this would’ve happened.

  “Maya, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Selfish prick.

  “He knows I fucked someone who was at your restaurant. He doesn’t know who. Thanks for the fucking concern.”

  His hand tenses next to mine and then it snakes over my shoulder. I feel it like stepping in a hot bath. He pulls me into his chest like a rag doll and his heart thumps against my back.

  I can’t remember the last time I was held like this. Even though I know he’s just doing this to placate me, my skin heats like a furnace when his lips touch my cheek.

  “What happened, Maya?”

  “He—he shot Chuck. I don’t even know if he’s alive. Mom tried to protect me.”

  Why am I so calm?

  “They saw me going into your restaurant. He thought I was meeting with you to betray the MC or something.”

  “Jesus.”

  I look up and he irons his face with his hands. Hot, bubbling guilt surges inside me.

  “It’s my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I have to make him understand the full brunt of my guilt. “I pissed him off on purpose. I was just—I wanted to hurt him. I said—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you said. He did this to you.”

  A finger brushes over the choke wounds on my throat.

  It feels as though it was just another day at the MC. My dad guns down a man I actually respected, and I don’t even shed a tear. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?

  “I can’t believe this shit.” His voice is breathless as he takes my hand, the one with the gash, and runs his thumb underneath the wound. Then his voice turns black. “If he was any other man, I would kill him. I would turn my car around right now, and gun him down in front of his wife.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a gritty voice. It’s hard to believe that the sound came from his chest. There’s no warmth in him, just cold rage.

  “He’s still my—”

  “He’s the president, and I owe him the courtesy of explaining what happened, but if he was anyone else he would be dead for touching my girl.”

  I freeze in his arms as he presses his cool cheek to mine.

  “I’m not your girl.”

  He doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re carrying my kid. That makes you mine.”

  No, I don’t think so.

  “I didn’t leave the MC to be possessed by another man.”

  “So you didn’t get what you wanted. Too fucking bad.”

  My heart flutters as his lips touch the side of my temple. I really hate how good it feels to be in his arms. I tilt my head to the side to avoid his touch even though I crave it.

  “You’re just like my father. You don’t care about me. You just want to control me.”

  “I saved your goddamn ass in that bar.”

  “Only because I’m carrying your kid.”

  His hands slip under my shirt and I gasp as his palm touches my stomach. Urgent lips touch the side of my head, making me burn as his hands glide over me. His hands make a mockery of my pride. They make my skin singe.

  “You think that’s the only reason?”

&
nbsp; He kisses my neck and it’s like being injected with Valium. I slump into his arms. I’m just so fucking tired of fighting all the time. It’d be nice to give in, for once. To let them win.

  But I can’t.

  “I think you’d be crazy to risk everything for pussy.”

  “World-class pussy.”

  I feel his smile tickling my flesh.

  “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

  His hands sweep over my body, sensual and rough at the same time. They curve over the hard bones of my ribs and then his fingers slide under my bra. A thin gasp cuts through the air and my heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings, instantly sent into overdrive. Warmth pulses between my legs and I close them, uncomfortably wet as he gropes my tits.

  I should be pissed that the only reason he wants me around is because of how good the sex is, but how can I be surprised? We barely know each other and it was always supposed to be a one-time deal. One night became two nights plus that tryst at the doctor’s office, and here we fucking are.

  He slides his hand over mine and grazes the wound. He hears my hiss of pain and glances at it.

  “You should have never went back. You should have stayed when I told you to stay.”

  I hate flinching from the anger in his voice. “I didn’t think he would find out so quickly.”

  “I don’t care what you thought would happen. You should have listened to me.”

  Arrogant prick.

  “I don’t need to listen to you.” He cuts my voice off with a gale of laughter, and I shove his chest, pushing myself away from him. “I’ve spent my whole life under my dad’s thumb, and I don’t intend on becoming your little bitch.”

  He gives me a wide grin, trying to stifle his chuckles. “Well, you can play that game with me, but you won’t win.”

  “Try me.”

  “You don’t have a choice, baby. It’s me or the streets.”

  Ruthless eyes bore into mine and his smile freezes. “Believe me, Maya. You want me in your life.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re better off with me than without. You know that.” His hand drops heavily over my thighs. “I won’t let you go, anyway.”

  My insides seethe at being told that I need a man. I don’t fucking need him. “I just need a place to stay for a week or two, and then I’m on my own.”

  “I’m not letting you in unless you agree to get engaged.”

  My jaw drops open. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “My house, my rules.”

  “I only need a place for a couple weeks!”

  “Until what?”

  “Until I get my credit cards and money from my bank.”

  A strange look falls over Johnny’s face and his hand falls on the back of my neck. I’m so pissed off that I want to throw him off, but instead I revel in the feeling of his fingers slowly massaging my knots.

  “Sweetie, he’s probably on his way to freeze your bank accounts.”

  “What?”

  He shrugs. “It’s what I would do.”

  Shit. He’s probably right.

  “C—can I use your phone?”

  I just can’t believe that my father would use his connections to do something so petty. The pitying look creases his eyes, but he slips his hand down his slacks and hands me his heavy iPhone.

  I call the bank of Montreal as Johnny watches me unsmilingly. His hand at the back of my neck soothes me as a clinical voice cracks on the speaker.

  “Hi, I need to withdraw money from the bank, but I lost all my cards.”

  I rattle off my personal information as she finds my account.

  “I’m sorry, madame, but it appears that your bank account was emptied today.”

  “What? Who gave the authorization? I never—”

  “It looks like you had a joint account with your father. I’m sorry, but he withdrew all the money about one hour ago.”

  Years of work, gone in an instant. My hopes and dreams, completely fucked. Ruined. Turned to shit.

  “But he can’t—” I sob into the receiver and the banker’s voice softens.

  “Do you want me to contact the authorities?”

  I shake my head as a ball of fury builds up behind my eyes. “No.”

  The banker murmurs something else into the phone, but I pull away and tap the red circle, ending the call. The screen fades to darkness, unlike the pressure in my head, which is close to the breaking point.

  “It was a joint fucking account. I basically just handed him the money.”

  He winces in sympathy.

  “I fucking hate him.”

  Johnny covers my shaking hand with his. “I hated my dad, too.”

  Is that supposed to make me feel better?

  Suddenly the car grinds to a halt in front of Johnny’s high-rise, and my hands clench over my knees.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  No, I never did. All the way back to my fucking birth, I never had a goddamn choice.

  “I don’t see why we have to get married,” I say in a shaking voice.

  “Number one: it’s the right thing to do. Two: it might just save this alliance of ours.”

  The driver opens the door for us and Johnny gets out first, extending his hand to me. I ignore it and stand up, brushing the gesture aside. His hand finds mine as Chris drives away, and he pulls me against his chest, the grip biting.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  “What?”

  Even though I know exactly what.

  “Don’t be disrespectful toward me in front of others. I’m the boss.”

  “You’re not my boss.”

  Against his chest, I smell the fresh scent of his skin and that tantalizing male musk from his hair. His smile widens, reminding me of that predatory stare he gave me when we first met, when I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the night with.

  “Why don’t you say that to me again when I get you upstairs?”

  Energy shoots straight into my heart like a live wire. He grabs my elbow and leads me to the marble-floored foyer and into the elevator. All the while my heart hammers against my chest. As soon as the elevator doors close, he turns around, and I’m no match for his deadly smirk and the rippling muscles flexing his arms, which pin me against the wall. He’s so much stronger than he looks.

  “The moment you step through that door into my apartment, you become my fiancée.”

  A thrill runs through my heart as I look at the faint lines beside his eyes that wrinkle when he smiles. He’s so much older than me, and I don’t understand anything that’s going on in his head. He shouldn’t want this, but he does.

  If I go in there, I’m never coming back out.

  “I’m not ready.” I hate how high my voice sounds.

  Johnny grasps my chin lightly and runs his thumb under my bottom lip.

  “This isn’t about love, sweetheart. Love doesn’t exist for people like us.”

  “Maybe not for you, but I intend to find it.”

  “Not with me. Get those thoughts out of your head.”

  Pitiless black eyes stare back at me. Just when I’m reeling from the sensations he gives me, he drives a spike through my heart.

  “This is about what we both need to do.”

  “You can’t want this.”

  “I do.”

  “You want to marry me?”

  “If you’re going to have my kid, we need to be married.”

  A growl of frustration rips from my throat. It’s like talking to a fucking robot. The elevator pings and the doors open, but Johnny doesn’t let me down from the wall.

  “Time to make a choice.”

  “C-can’t we wait for a few months?”

  “No,” he snaps.

  Just tell him yes. He can’t force you to do anything.

  My head spinning, I give him a quick, affirmative jerk and he steps back, holding the door open with his arm. “Wise decision, Maya.”

&n
bsp; “You forced me into this,” I spit as he brings me to his apartment.

  There’s no remorse on his face. “I will do whatever it takes to keep this alliance from blowing up in my face.”

  So it really has nothing to do with what’s best for the baby, does it? My insides seethe as he unlocks the door. I cross my arms and walk inside, heading straight for the living room as the door shuts.

  I look around at the beautiful, spotless apartment and a cold shiver runs through my limbs. It’s a gilded cage, isn’t it? I sink into the couch without realizing it’s there.

  Johnny moves swiftly in front of the couch and sits down next to me, reaching into his jacket for a small black box.

  My heart jumps in my throat as he cradles it in his hand.

  “It’s not exactly how I proposed to my last two wives.”

  The breath I don’t even realize I’m holding in blows out. “What happened to your last two wives?”

  “I killed them.” He turns his head, laughter on his face. “Is that what you want to hear?”

  “What happened?” I say in a firmer voice.

  “What’s there to say? They didn’t work out.”

  Yeah, I think I’m starting to understand why they didn’t.

  I wonder what kinds of wives would cause this extremely traditional Mafioso bastard to divorce them.

  “I think I have a right to know.”

  His fingers close around the box and I almost flinch at the look in his eyes.

  “Not now, Maya.”

  I glare back at him, but he looks away, back at the black box. It pops open and a diamond splinters the light into a rainbow of fragments. He gently tugs it out of the box.

  I’m amazed. The tiny band glitters with a thousand small diamonds. He takes my hand and slides the ring over my finger. It’s tight. My breathing quickens as though he’s wrapping a collar around my neck. And I can’t believe I’ve said yes to this man I barely know, this Italian guy who I just wanted a one-night stand with.

  It’s a beautiful ring. It’s big and gaudy and expensive.

  And it’s not me at all.

  “This is too much.”

  “You don’t like it? I can get another fucking ring.”

  I don’t want another fucking ring.

  I twist it off my finger and slap it back in his hand, and then I stand up from the couch.

  “I’m sorry. I think I’ll take my chances at the women’s shelter.”