Married to the Bad Boy

by Vanessa Waltz

  Too late.

  My hand trembles on the doorknob, and I push it open. I know that it’s already unlocked.

  A scene of devastation greets my eyes. Everything standing is tipped over—every chair and stick of furniture. There’s a vase smashed on the floor. The water darkens the hardwood.

  “Fuck!”

  My face burns as I walk inside, slamming the door. I pick up the phone and immediately dial the emergency number.

  “Someone broke into my house.”

  I rattle off the address, and then I carry the phone with me. It trembles in my hand as the operator tries to comfort me.

  “Miss, you need to get to a safe place. You need to leave the apartment.”

  But I can’t fucking leave. All my possessions are here, everything I bought with the thousands of dollars I brought with me. What a fucking jerk. What a loser.

  Every drawer is yanked out, its contents spilled on the floor. I whimper as I step inside my bedroom. Every stitch of clothing is ruined, ripped in half, or otherwise flung to the floor in discarded piles. I bend over and touch the blouses I just bought, their colors bleeding together.

  “Hello, Elena.”

  I whirl around, red in the face and furious. My body bumps into his leather chest and I scream, my heart rate jacked. The murderous look doesn’t faze me.

  “Get out of my fucking house!”

  I flinch at the noise of leather squeaking as he lifts his hand and touches my face. “I’m not leaving without you and my money.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  “Listen to me, you little twat. You’re going to bring me to wherever the fuck you stashed the money, and then I’m taking you back to where you belong.”

  I shove his chest with both hands, and for a moment he looks incredulous. I don’t think he ever believed I would fight back.

  “You listen to me. We are done and you are not getting a cent of that money!”

  It’s like some kind of bizarre dance. I back away, and he advances. His hip bumps into mine until the backs of my legs hit the bed.

  He grabs my face and shoves me backward. My back hits the mattress hard and I try to scramble to my feet, heart racing, but he places his hand on my shoulder and presses down. He’s so strong that he doesn’t have to try very hard.

  Fucking asshole.

  Rafael lowers his head, the lines under his eyes like dark scars. “You’re coming back to New York with me, right after you give me my money.”

  “Never going to fucking happen, you psycho.”

  My face screws up in pain before the blow comes, but a soft hand caresses me. I open my eyes in surprise.

  “Ah, Elena. I missed this.”

  Then a violent force smashes my jaw and stars erupt in my vision. I roll on the wooden floor, my head splitting into two. My skin burns, but nothing compares to the pain of my humiliation. I’m so fucking tired of falling—of just taking it and never saying a word.

  “Where the fuck were you last night, huh?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  “You were fucking some other guy, weren’t you?”

  I say nothing.

  His face twists in rage. “You fucking whore!”

  He aims a boot toward my ribs, but I spring to my feet and grab the closest thing—a crystal paperweight on my nightstand that I use for decoration—and I hurl it into his face. Rafael clutches his nose and screams, and I jump on the bed, bouncing toward the entrance.

  It was so fucking stupid to come back here.

  My feet pound the wooden floorboards as I race down the hallway. His heavy footsteps tell me that he’s not far behind. My voice stabs my ears as I scream down the hall, hoping that someone, anyone, will hear me.

  “HELP ME!”

  “FUCKING CUNT!”

  A violent force rips me backward as Rafael takes the back of my collar and wrenches me. My hands fly out in front of me, trying to grab something to break his hold on me, but he’s too fucking strong. A surge of self-hatred for my weak body makes me scream, and then my side crashes against the wall, shattering a photograph.

  “Arrêtez!”

  A volley of French voices makes Rafael freeze behind me, his hands still balled in my hair. “Mind your own fucking business!”

  Two men stream inside the apartment, guns drawn. I flatten against the wall, but Rafael advances toward them.

  Please, shoot him. Please.

  “This is none of your fucking business!”

  One of the cops raises his gun to Rafael’s chest. “HANDS BEHIND YOUR FUCKING HEAD!”

  I place my hands behind my head, trembling as they tackle Rafael against the wall. His head crushes against the plaster. He gives me a look of potent rage. It’s more than that, though. He just looks—evil. There’s nothing behind those eyes but ill will.

  He won’t stop until I’m buried in the ground.

  “Mademoiselle—Miss, are you okay?”

  The cop touches my shoulder, giving me a puzzled look. I swallow hard and let my hands drop from my head as a snarling Rafael is dragged outside.

  “BITCH!”

  I flinch at the angry sound.

  “Miss, you want to press charges?”

  I gaze around at my apartment, which looks as though a tornado blew through it. I’d like nothing better than to see that fucker locked up, but I know that he’ll just come after me once he gets out. Or his boss might do it for him.

  Numbly, I shake my head. “No.”

  The disappointment on his face gives me a guilty squirm. “Miss, let me give you ah—numéro de téléphone for women’s shelter.”

  I take the card he gives me in his shaking hands. Yeah, I might be able to live for a few days until Rafael finds a way to bribe one of the cops here and gets its location.

  “Take care.”

  He gives me a sad smile and leaves my apartment. I look around, knowing that I should clean up, or pack, or something, but I just can’t bring myself to do any of it.

  * * *

  The best—the only—defense I can come up with is to pretend that everything’s normal. That my ex-boyfriend didn’t just track me down to my apartment to kill me, and I only just got away. If I accepted the seriousness of it, I would panic.

  Panicking doesn’t help.

  They’ll probably keep him in lockup for a day or two for resisting arrest, so that’s a small comfort.

  The door swings open for me as a man steps out. The din in the bar swallows me like a shroud, and I feel safe surrounded by so many people. I scan the mass, my eyes cutting through the crowd of testosterone to find the man I found last night. It’s too much to hope that Tony will be here tonight, but even if he was here, what could he do for me?

  My gaze passes over Tommy, whose penetrating stare eats right through me.

  What the hell does he want?

  He jerks his head toward the back of the bar. Swallowing down my heart, I brush past him and squeeze my eyes shut when I hear him follow. I bend down, changing my shoes in the back as I imagine him standing over me, his arms folded.

  “What is it?” I finally snap.

  “Your boyfriend came in here last night, not long after you left with Tony.”

  I didn’t want to hear that. He knows where I work and he knows where I live.

  I’m fucked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  His hazel eyes narrow at me. “Are you sure you told him that, because I don’t think he got the memo.”

  The blood pounding in my head is painful. It’s as though there’s a sledgehammer smashing my skull. BAM. BAM. BAM.

  I swallow hard as I raise a shaking hand to my temple. “I was pretty fucking clear. He’s just crazy.”

  Tommy rolls up his white sleeves and bends down to my level, a tinge of emotion shining in his eyes.

  “If he finds out you went home with Tony, he’ll fucking kill you.”

  “W-well, he tried and I’m still here.”

  For some reason,
his concern brings me another thrill of fear. My eyes search his desperately, but I know he won’t stick out a limb for me. Yeah, he helped put a Band-Aid over the situation, and Rafael ripped it right off.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “He came to my house. I called the cops on him—”

  Tommy rakes a hand through his hair and lets out a groan. “Jesus.”

  “I’m not pressing charges.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  I stare at him. “There are people in New York who would love an excuse to see me dead.”

  “Well, honey, you’ve got to do something. He’s going to come after you.”

  Tears well in my eyes as I shrug at him and stand up. “Do what? I don’t know what else there is to do. I thought that if I—if I left New York, maybe he’d leave me alone. Maybe if I was with someone else, I don’t know.”

  “He’s going to find you, and when he does, New York will be the least of your problems. He’s going to kill you, Elena—”

  “I know! You don’t think I fucking know that?”

  My head pounds with what will surely become another bruise. The air feels strangely thin, and I stagger toward the wall. Colors bleed together, and the room swims. It feels as though I’m drunk, but it’s hard to breathe. Tommy grips my arm and squeezes hard, and the pressure from his fingers makes me feel my pulse pounding against his skin.

  It’s happening.

  I’m panicking.

  “You don’t look good, hon. Maybe you should take the night off.”

  “Hell, no! I’m not—I’m not leaving here. This is the only place I feel safe.”

  Tommy’s concerned face swims in front of me. “Safe? He’s not going to leave you alone, Elena. Not unless you’re fucking married—”

  I don’t hear the rest of Tommy’s sentence.

  Not unless you’re married.

  So I just have to marry someone. Simple. No, that’s fucking crazy.

  You have a ton of cash. It’s possible.

  Yes. Someone out there is willing to marry me for cash. I’m certain of it.

  “That’s it!”

  I’m still shaking, but my vision clears and I grip Tommy’s arms, almost sobbing in relief.

  Tommy smiles back weakly, uncomprehending. “What is it?”

  “That’s—a really good idea.”

  “What did I say?”

  “What if I gave you a ton of cash to marry me?”

  He tries to swallow his laughter, and it cuts right into me like a sharp knife. “Sweetie, I’ve a girlfriend. I don’t think she’d like that very much.”

  Fuck.

  I turn my back to him and enter the bar, looking for the guy I was with last night. He’s fucking perfect. He’s a member, isn’t he? He was kind of an asshole, but it’ll just be for a little while. Long enough to get Rafael off my back.

  “What about Tony?”

  Loud, obnoxious laughter echoes down the hallway. I whirl around, annoyed when I see Tommy leaning against the wall, laughing his ass off. He looks at my serious expression and tries to keep it together, but he just can’t.

  “You’re—you’re fucking serious? He’s the biggest man whore I’ve ever met. He’ll never do it.”

  “Then I’ll find someone else,” I say in a hard voice.

  “It’s a stupid idea.”

  It is stupid. So is doing nothing.

  Tommy’s mirth rings in my head as I step into the bar. Immediately I spot Tony at the same spot. I hang near the doorway like an awkward mannequin, and then his heated gaze finds me.

  A violent flush creeps up my neck as I imagine Tony laughing the same way Tommy did when I told him about my idea.

  It is fucking stupid.

  It’s so dumb, it just might work.

  It’s not as though I wouldn’t make it worth his while. I was willing to part with a lot of money to place a hit on Rafael. What should I offer him?

  Twenty-five grand? Thirty? What’s fair?

  You barely know the guy.

  I’m desperate. If it gets Rafael to back off, it’ll be worth it. As of right now, the only future I see for myself is in a body bag.

  The only problem is that Tony intimidates the hell out of me. He reminds me of Rafael, in a way. The same allure drew me to him—the suspense, the excitement. I had to beg him to let me stay the night. What kind of asshole does that to someone? He’s the only other guy I’ve slept with—and I had to pull out all the stops to impress him. Will I be able to do it a second time? A third?

  I just don’t know.

  My heart pounds hard when my eyes sweep over his handsome face. Last night throbs in my head, all of the images playing in front of me like a highly colored dream.

  A perfect shadow of stubble covers his jaw and mouth, just long enough to look sexy, teetering on the edge of being disheveled. Cool eyes meet mine, almost indifferently, and my guts clench. I lose my nerve. I grab a discarded rag with the pretense of cleaning.

  Then I see something that makes me want to vomit.

  A woman hangs around his arm and then sits down next to him. She’s beautiful, with long highlighted hair and shining red lips, and Tony gives her a lascivious grin that makes my insides clench. A vicious surge of jealousy rises in my throat as I gather the drink orders and pass them out.

  I can’t let her get him.

  “Another one! Hey! Mange de la marde!” Eat shit!

  A patron hisses at me as I ignore his request and disappear behind the bar, watching as she reaches forward to touch his thigh. My face heats up.

  I’m annoyed by the fact that I’m annoyed at their antics.

  She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles. The bitch gets up to go to the bathroom, leaving him alone.

  Good.

  He doesn’t see me coming. The glass he’s holding obscures his vision as he sips his drink until I slide another one under his nose. Tony responds to my presence with a wide, cocky grin.

  “Hey, sexy.”

  Hey, asshole.

  My heart makes another painful thump against my chest as I take the girl’s seat, forcing a smile on my face. The last thing I want is to ask him for a favor because of the way he looks at me with the widest, smuggest smile. Vivid images of his wickedly tattooed body thrusting over mine run through my head. The smile paired with his seductive eyes seems downright dangerous. He looks me up and down, the heat from his gaze scorching through my clothes. He wears a midnight-blue suit, the stubble over his jaw rougher than yesterday’s.

  “I enjoyed last night.”

  “Of course you did.”

  Smug asshole.

  “Your tits looked better in that other outfit.”

  Ah, the backhanded compliment. What a jerk.

  “Yeah? Would you rather I took my shirt off?”

  Amusement twinkles in his eyes. “I think every guy in the bar would love that.”

  “Too bad I’m only interested in what you want.”

  Rich laughter booms from his chest. “I’ve already got what I want, sweetheart.”

  “You should take me out and fuck me again.”

  So fucking blunt.

  He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his attention is riveted. There are probably hundreds of women constantly kissing his ass.

  I’m different.

  His eyes sear my flesh. “One night, hon. That’s all you get.”

  “One night? Even though I made you come three times? Sounds like three nights to me.” I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “You’ve already broken your rule.”

  “You were a lot more fun than most girls, I’ll admit that.”

  I lean in, placing both hands on his thighs as my lips brush his ear. “Then fuck me again. And again.”

  His voice strokes my ear. “Are you begging me for more, or do you want something specific from me?”

  “Specifically, I want your cock. Inside me. Now.”

  A small growl rumbles in his throat. “It’s rented for the night.
”

  My hand slides around the back of his neck. “Aren’t you tired of mediocre sex?”

  His eyes lighten at that, and a smile spreads over his rugged face. “Who says I’m having mediocre sex?”

  “Can that girl suck your dick like I can? Can she fuck you like I can?”

  Tony’s smile never falters, but it darkens. His eyes are all over me.

  “You’re fucking crazy, aren’t you?”

  Lust heats his face until I can almost feel it radiating off his skin. My fingertips brush over his cock, and he suddenly grabs my arm. My heart leaps as he pulls me onto his lap and crushes his lips against mine.

  It’s like instant electricity. It shocks me to feel the sudden rush of blood. Then my back hits the bar counter as his tongue slips into my mouth. I cling to his shoulders because all the energy evaporates from my limbs. I kiss him back and gasp as he grabs my tits, right in the middle of this bar. Everyone can see, but he doesn’t give a shit. He pulls back with a grin that sends a jolt of anxiety through my heart, and I realize I’ve just given myself to another monster.

  He’s deadly. Just look at him.

  “What the fuck!”

  A shrill, feminine voice makes him break apart from me, but only barely. I taste the sweetness from his tongue, and I want more.

  “Ah shit.”

  “Putain de merde!” The tall brunette screams herself hoarse, looking mad with rage.

  The whole bar turns their attention to the pretty girl, screaming her head off. They laugh behind their hands and even Tommy emerges from his office to see the commotion. He leans against the doorway, spotting me on Tony’s lap, and frowns.

  My face burns as she turns away from us, angry tears glittering in her eyes as she stalks away. Another man attempts to comfort her, but she storms out of the bar.

  Her tears give me a stab of guilt, but it dissolves when Tony turns back toward me with a shrug, extreme indifference all over his face.

  “Well, I guess that makes your decision much easier.”

  He takes my head in his hands. “This is all your fault.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sorry for that.”

  Deep laughter shakes from his barrel-like chest, and my face flushes with pleasure. My hands play with the hair behind his neck. It’s just at a length where I can curl my fingers through his strands.