Married to the Bad Boy

by Vanessa Waltz

  He’s fucking a new feeling inside me, something that makes me kiss him harder. I’m surrendering to him.

  His cock pulses inside me, and I cling to his neck, moaning as he utters a groan and his legs slam hard into the table. Then I clench around him, feeling the explosion rip through me. Tenderness clenches my heart as he pulls me upright, wrapping his arms around me as his cock fills me with his essence.

  My hand smoothes his lapels as his chest rises and falls, and I curl my fingers around his neck, gazing into his eyes, wrinkled with happiness. I feel lucky to have him. I’m growing more and more infatuated with him, or maybe it’s the glow of the orgasm making my heart pound harder when he gives me a gentle kiss.

  “You’ve never fucked me like that before.”

  “Did you like it?”

  Then it’s my turn to lean in closer to whisper in his ear. “Do it again.”

  * * *

  It starts off like a small spark. Yellow bursts of light flinging out into space, only to disappear almost immediately. Over and over again, until it catches. Just one little flame, fairly easy to snuff out.

  That’s what I’ve got. A little flame. It quietly warms my chest as I watch him get ready for his work. There’s no denying that I’ve got it pretty bad for him. I don’t know where it came from, but all of a sudden, I’m attached. Pinpricks of fear spread over my skin as I think about his work and the kind of trouble he might get himself into.

  I like him, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  His gaze meets mine through his bathroom mirror as he notices my stare. “What is it?”

  My face flushes as though he can tell what I’m thinking by watching my eyes, and I shrug. He hesitates for a moment and continues shaving.

  “I’m going to my place to pick up a few things.”

  He bends his face into the sink and washes it before drying it off with a fresh towel. The light switches off and bathes him in darkness.

  “And what if that shit stain is waiting for you there?”

  Gentle hands cradle my face as he walks to the bed. Sometimes it hurts to see the indifference in his eyes. He rarely ever comes to life, except when he’s thrusting between my legs.

  “Well, we’re engaged. He can’t touch me.”

  “Yeah, except there’s the problem of the fucking baby. Anyway, that reminds me.”

  He pulls something out of his pocket. A small black box. My heart thumps hard against my chest, even though I know it’s just for show. Even though it’s not really for me.

  Tony takes my hand as he opens the box, revealing a beautiful white gold ring with a princess-cut diamond. He takes it out of its snug confinement and slowly slides it on my ring finger.

  “Like it?”

  Like it? “It’s—it’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

  He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Probably stolen, then.

  It dazzles in the light, all the diamond-cut shards in the band sparkling as I turn it to catch the beams.

  “Is it weird that I’m much more excited about this than I should be?”

  “It’s just a ring, Elena.”

  The frost in his voice dampens my happiness, and I feel myself slam hard into the ground. Back to reality.

  He doesn’t want to get married. Stop this right now.

  Then he stoops down slightly and kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Ready for work, he heads to the front door and I follow him. He gives me a nervous smile as he glances at the ring on my finger.

  “See you later, I guess.”

  The fabric of his jacket feels abrasive in my hands, but I pull him toward me anyway. I smell his aftershave on his slightly damp cheeks and I turn my head, crushing my lips against his. He smiles against mine, laughing at some joke in his head, and I slide the palm of my hand down his slacks, anchoring over his cock. He groans.

  “Do all broads get wet over a diamond ring, or is that just a stereotype?”

  I don’t know what it is.

  “It’s you. You make me this way.”

  A grin lightens his face as he gently takes my hand away from his cock. “Stop getting me turned-on before I have to leave.”

  “It’s your fault for giving me this right before leaving.”

  His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Hell, you’re right. I should at least get a thank-you blowjob.”

  “When you come back,” I promise.

  “Fuck.” He eyes my mouth with a carnal look that he somehow stuffs down.

  I take his chin, my insides fluttering as I give him a soft kiss. His eyes stay closed when I pull away, and when they open I think I can see something flicker inside them.

  “Bye, Tony.”

  My words seem to snap him into action, and he mechanically leans forward, kissing my cheek. He lingers a little bit too long, but he still turns away to leave.

  And a wild happiness lifts me up into the sky as though wings decided to sprout from my shoulders. I dress for the cold and make my way to my apartment, stuck in that contented fog. God, I’m becoming one of those people. Those blissfully unaware people walking down the street that I used to want to strangle, because the happiness that everyone seemed to have always escaped me.

  It was always: hide, be quiet, keep your head down, and hope for calmer waters.

  I unlock the door to my apartment, my spirit falling as I see the mess all over the floors. There wasn’t any time to come back after Rafael destroyed the place. For a moment my arms wrap around my body and a chill runs through me as though there’s an open window somewhere.

  You shouldn’t have come here.

  My limbs freeze even though my heart hammers against my chest. The horrific thought hisses in my ear in a harsh whisper.

  Leave. Now.

  I watch myself take a step toward the door. My hand reaches for the doorknob. I turn it. It’s locked. I must have locked it without even thinking. Then it takes me an eon to unlock it, the brass locks moving in slow motion. Footsteps echo hollowly in my heart. They’re hard and fast. A pressure squeezing down on my shoulder amps up the terror, and my voice lifts to the ceiling. Another hand clamps down hard over my mouth, cutting off the scream.

  No. Oh God, no.

  “You keep coming back here,” the dark voice says. “It’s almost as if you want me back.”

  He pulls me into his body, his achingly familiar contours jutting into me. Then he takes his hand away from my mouth as something cold bites into my neck.

  “Make a sound, and I’ll spill your dirty Vittorio blood all over the floor.”

  That seething undertone in his voice makes my blood harden into ice. That deadly calm terrifies me more than anything. It means that he has nothing to lose and he’s not afraid to slit my throat.

  Tony warned me. What the fuck was I thinking, coming here alone?

  “Get off me!”

  His arm tightens around my body, imprisoning me like a python coiling around my body, slowly squeezing me to death. “Why should I?”

  Rafael drags me farther into the apartment, and my feet follow him backward.

  “What are you doing?”

  Arms pinned to my side, I’m fucking helpless. Every pause makes the knife cut into my throat, and something warm tickles down my neck. It’s not until he drags me into the bathroom that I see the line of red.

  “Rafael, I’m engaged. He will fucking kill you!”

  The door slams shut and he hurls me away from him. I slip on the tiles and fall on the toilet seat, gazing up at Rafael’s disheveled body.

  He points the knife at me. “I’ll fucking kill you. We’re going to find out once and for all whether you are pregnant.”

  His black jeans swim in front of me and the flat of his blade slaps my cheek. “I know it’s not beyond you to lie about something like this. You come from a family of rats.”

  Burning, caustic rage explodes in my chest. “You just can’t stand the fact that I’ve found som
eone else. That I left you.”

  I expect the blow, but it still hurts when his palm rips across my face. I catch myself almost immediately, gripping the edge of the toilet seat. He slams the knife on the counter and grabs a long box from a plastic bag.

  It’s a pregnancy test.

  My eyes burn as I take the box from him, shaking.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do? I know that it’s going to be negative. I take my birth control pills religiously. It was a lie to make people believe our very abrupt, out-of-nowhere marriage.

  Rafael takes the knife, his eyes simmering. “Take off your pants. Do it.”

  He expects me to do this now? In front of him?

  “At least give me some privacy.”

  “What’s the matter? Are you afraid what it’ll say?” He smirks at me knowingly, giving the cheek where he slapped me a little tap. “Oh, I already fucking know you’re a piece of shit liar. I just need proof.”

  “Then what? I’m still Tony’s fiancée.”

  He leans in, his narrowed eyes almost gleaming with red as he presses his shaking lips to my ear. “You won’t be when Johnny finds out you paid Tony off with money that should’ve been given to Vince.”

  A hole gapes inside me as though all my organs were sucked out by a vacuum. Dad never told me how he got the money, or where it was from. I never considered that it might not be entirely his, and I know Johnny. He doesn’t give a shit about me.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Tears burn down my face as I look up at him, wanting to spare myself the humiliation of taking this test in front of him, but the knife doesn’t waver from my face. I stand up and pull down my jeans and panties in one swoop, opening up the toilet seat and sitting down before he has a chance to look.

  Then I rip open the packaging and grab the pregnancy test. It looks like a thermometer. I take the cap off and tear the foil from the applicator, and then I just stare at it.

  “Do it.”

  I don’t have a choice.

  Even though I know what it’ll say. Even though I know it’s hopeless, I point it toward my body and I relieve myself, jaw clenched shut. Then Rafael takes it from me.

  “We have to wait three minutes. Here, do another one.”

  To my astonishment, he shoves another box in my hand as he prepares a line of coke on my bathroom counter, cutting it with a small mirror before snorting it. Jesus. No wonder he looks like shit.

  I wonder if I could just charge him right now—or maybe I should just grab my cell phone. It’s in my back pocket, sticking out. A few quick movements and I’d have Tony on the phone.

  Not before he’d drag that knife across my throat.

  I take the second test and give it to him. My stomach turns as the seconds tick by, and I see the cocaine coursing through Rafael’s system. The knife taps impatiently against the sink and then he looks down at the test.

  The knife clatters against the sink—an ugly sound that makes me flinch.

  He clenches the edge of the sink, his head hanging down, staring at the test results. It’s maddening.

  “What the fuck?”

  He says it in a soft voice that terrifies me, and I don’t know why it does. The second test—he grabs that, too.

  “Oh my God.”

  A shaking hand covers his mouth, and his head turns toward me, his eyes swimming with tears.

  Tears.

  What in the fucking fuck?

  I can count on my hand the times I’ve seen Rafael cry. The first was when he hit me while my dad was still alive, when he was petrified for his life. The second is now.

  “I’m so sorry, Elena.”

  His words slam into my chest and I grab my jeans and panties, pulling them up as I walk over and push him aside. I look at the pregnancy tests. That positive, pink plus burns in my eyes. The other one has two pink lines.

  Pregnant.

  I’m actually pregnant.

  WHAT THE FUCK?

  I can’t scream it out loud, because Rafael’s arms wrap around my waist and he buries his face in my neck.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  His apologies are thick with tears, but I don’t feel a thing. Pregnant? How the hell is this possible?

  Has to be a mistake. A false positive.

  I can’t entertain the possibility that this might be true, that I might be pregnant, because how much of a disaster would that be? Assuming it’s Tony’s, he’d flip the fuck out. He doesn’t even want to get married. What’ll his reaction be when he finds out I’m carrying his child?

  How am I supposed to bring a baby into my fucked-up life?

  A smooth hand cradles my belly, and a wave of revulsion rises inside me. I shove Rafael’s body away from me.

  “I fucking told you!”

  Regret flashes over his eyes. “Baby, I—I didn’t know. This changes—holy Christ, I can’t believe I’m going to be a father.”

  The fucking arrogance.

  “What makes you think it’s even yours?” I seethe, enjoying the hurt transforming his face.

  He raises his fists and my back hits the wall. He’s close enough so that I can feel his breath billowing over my face. “Don’t fucking push me, Elena.”

  “Do you actually think that I would allow you to be in my child’s life? Look at you! You’re a fucking junkie.”

  His nostrils flare. “Our child. And I’d like to see you make me stay away.”

  “A few minutes ago, you were willing to slit my throat!”

  His face pinches together. “I made a mistake—”

  “—I would be dead, along with the baby. You’re not fit to be a father!”

  “FUCK YOU!”

  I scream as he punches his fist through the drywall next to my head, cowering as bits of plaster rain down. Rafael steps back, looking at his bloody hand in mild shock as he moves away from me.

  That hole in the wall could’ve been me.

  “You’re fucking crazy. Stay away from me!”

  “Elena—”

  He reaches forward with an apologetic hand, but I smack it away. He has the balls to look at me with a wounded face.

  “I won’t tell Tony about this as long as you leave Montreal tonight. We both know he’ll have every reason in the world to kill you after this.”

  Before he can respond, I sweep out of the bathroom, eager just to get the fuck out of this apartment and mull over everything that happened.

  My chest feels incredibly tight, and the moment I step outside I gasp for air.

  The tests could be false positives. Don’t freak out yet. Find out for sure.

  But I just know that I am. I don’t know how or why, but some kind of sixth sense tells me that I’m carrying a child and I should be thankful.

  Otherwise who knows what he would’ve done to me?

  I can’t think about it until I know for sure.

  Using my phone, I find the nearest hospital and walk through the doors, blinking at all the French signs. An hour later I’m staring at a nurse as she congratulates me on my pregnancy. It’s positive. I’m pregnant.

  “How effective is this test?”

  “Up to ninety-nine percent. Mademoiselle, do you want me to schedule a prenatal appointment?”

  As I stare into the nurse’s happy, young face, tears well up in my eyes. I can’t be fucking pregnant. There’s no way—I take those pills every day.

  But you might’ve forgotten a couple days. During that first night with Tony. You were upset. The pills were at home. You didn’t take one.

  Fuck, that’s right. I might’ve missed a few days—shit, what was I thinking?

  This is such a mess. I don’t want this baby—

  Get an abortion.

  It burns in my head, the forbidden word blazing, almost tangible on my lips, but I know that I can’t. The very idea fills me with horror. Not because it’s a sin. I don’t know—I just can’t do it. I can’t snuff out a life.

  The nurse tries her best to comfort me, an
d sends me home with a thick envelope of pamphlets and forms and numbers of doctors I need to see and how am I going to tell this to Tony? How, exactly, am I going to break this to him?

  I play with my cell phone, miserably contemplating phoning my sister about the news. My thumb hovers over his name.

  I just can’t do it.

  I don’t want him to hate me, too. So far, he’s the only person in the world who gives some semblance of a shit about me.

  He’s the father of your child. He should know.

  Not yet, I whisper desperately to the voice. Not fucking yet.

  * * *

  “Where were you?”

  The question slams down on my shoulders the moment I walk through the door.

  I didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

  Tony walks into the foyer, dark hair tousled and his smoky eyes narrowed in suspicion. The moment I see him, it’s like a little jump to my heart. It’s as though my body knows that he’s the one who got me pregnant.

  I take his hands and look into his gruff face, which demands an answer.

  Tell him.

  I open my mouth.

  He deserves to know.

  “I went out for a bit.”

  “Where?” The heat in his voice makes me flinch. “I kept calling you, and you never answered. I thought something might’ve happened to you.”

  You’re a coward.

  My body feels tense, like a taut rubber band. I’m stretched way too thin, and any moment I’ll snap. Pressure builds behind my eyes: the baby, the wedding, Rafael, all of it. It’s one giant clusterfuck, and now he’s giving me a hard time.

  “Well, I’m fine.”

  In seconds he’s in my space, hip bumping against mine. Eyes narrowed in disapproval capture my gaze. It’s hard to look at him without feeling incredibly guilty.

  “Are you giving me attitude?”

  “Yeah, maybe I fucking am.”

  He doesn’t deserve this. I know that, but I’m pissed and there’s no one else to blame but him. Because he did, after all, get me fucking pregnant. It was never supposed to be like this. I never wanted to get knocked up from a one-night stand. How fucking trashy is that?