by Kim Linwood
I look down at my black slacks and shoes. “Is it the fedora? Or the pin-striped suit? Should I not have brought my tommy gun?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Scusami tanto, principessa. You want that I a-should-a,” I roll my shoulders and jerk my head towards the parking garage. “Get the a-getaway car a-heated up?”
“Stop it!” Her eyes go wide and she looks around as if everyone is paying attention to us instead of focusing on their own shit.
“I’m Italian, Andrea. I can’t turn that off any more than you can, and I suspect she’s noticed already. It’s not a crime. The most nefarious thing I’ve done in weeks is punch my brother, and he had it coming. This isn’t The Godfather.”
“Says the guy who wasn’t just traded like company stock,” she mutters.
“Andie!” a luggage cart yells.
Andrea perks up, turning eagerly to the wave of new arrivals bursting out the doors from customs. “Evie!”
A blonde head peeks around the cart, and the girls rush together with outstretched hands. They collide in a laughing hug while I grab the cart and move it out of the way. They chatter at the speed of light and in a language that’s uniquely theirs. It’s not anything I understand at least, so I watch and wait.
Physically they are completely different. Evie is a pale, freckled wisp of a thing with pink-tipped, straight hair, while Andrea is all curves, attitude and big, rich, brown hair. But if you were judging purely by body language, they could be sisters.
At least that’s one more person on her side, but it stings a little that now I’ll no longer be her go-to guy. I shouldn’t be jealous, but I can only suppress so much. Hell, it might even be better for both of us.
It’s not until I clear my throat loudly that they finally break apart. Still laughing, they join me and the tower of luggage.
Evie gives me an appraising look which makes me wonder what Andrea’s told her. “I thought you were taking the piss, but I see why you took him for a spin.”
“Evie!” Andrea looks at her friend in shock.
“Aw, and he blushes too!”
I do not blush. “Let’s go.” Turning away, I heave at the luggage cart, getting the mountain of bags rolling. You’d think she were moving in.
Andrea stops again, too sudden for me to hold back the momentum of the cart. It bangs into her leg, making her yelp. She rubs her ankle and glares at me like I should’ve known she was planning on standing in my way. “I never got my smoothie.”
Seriously? “Traffic is going to be a bitch at this hour. Can we just get on the road? Evie’s probably tired after the flight.”
Evie looks at me innocently and shrugs. “Don’t worry on my account. I sleep like a baby on planes.” Andrea hooks an arm around her friend’s waist and smiles. “Besides, sometimes girls get cravings. Better get used to it.”
Twenty minutes later—ten in line for the smoothie, ten more for the emergency pretzels—everything is stashed in the car and the girls are chatting quietly in the backseat. I turn on the radio and try to tune them out.
Apparently Evie sleeps like a baby in cars too, because in another half an hour, she’s out like a light and drooped on Andrea’s shoulder, while she in turn is resting her cheek on Evie’s head.
“Thanks,” she mouths into the rearview mirror.
“No problem, princess.”
Her sleepy smile kicks me right in the heart. There’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to stick around and watch her marry my brother. She should be mine, but that means nothing to Giuseppe. Blood is everything.
Some of my old Navy buddies were telling me they’re always looking for technicians with experience. I’m young enough to reenlist. Or I could just grab her and run. That would be tempting if my entire fucked up existence wasn’t proof that this life doesn’t let go. The both of us are in too deep.
A guard nods at me as I drive up to the DiFiero house. Evie’s still asleep and it looks like she dragged Andrea into dreamland with her, so I start unloading Evie’s bags. She has so much fucking stuff, but in the end, it’s Andrea’s giant purse that takes me down.
Just as I heft Evie’s last two bags, I somehow find the purse on the ground, the strap tangled around my shoes and down I fucking go.
Things go flying. Makeup, hair stuff, what looks like a year’s worth of receipts, all over. I gather it up as quickly as I can when I come across a small pile of leaflets: “An Alcohol-Free Pregnancy is the Best Choice for Your Baby”, “Pregnancy Choices”, “Nutrition During Pregnancy”.
What the fuck?
“Stop!” Andrea’s out of the car and staring at me with abject horror painted on her face.
I pick them up slowly and shove everything back into her purse. There’s a long pause where neither of us says anything, before I finally let out the bitter question, “Girl stuff?”
“It’s—”
“None of my business.”
No wonder she doesn’t want to get married. I thought she was pushing me away to keep things from getting too complicated, but she’s not even thinking about me. I’m not even a part of the fucking equation. I guess I just didn’t know how complicated it already was.
22
Andrea
“Montana!” I hiss at his rapidly retreating back.
He grabs a couple of bags and goes into the house. This was not how I planned on telling him. Not that I had a plan or anything, but if I did, this wouldn’t be it.
The car door slams. “Andie?” Evie stares up at the house in a sort of sleepy shock. “You live in a bleedin’ castle.”
“It’s not a castle. It’s just a really big house.”
She looks around. “With stables?”
“It’s for the cars, not horses.”
“And a guest house?”
“It’s a big family.”
“And a marble fountain?”
I sigh. I should be following Montana and trying to find a way to fix this, but I don’t even know where to begin. So I chicken out and stay with Evie. “We’re Italian, okay? We like nice things. Come on, I’ll show you your room. It’s got a great view of the tennis court.” Evie makes a strangled noise. “Don’t get too excited, there’s only one court and it’s closed for the winter.”
“Right.”
I forget sometimes how my life looks from the outside. When I’m away from Chicago, I live pretty much like any other university student, but at home it looks like I have everything. In many ways I do, it’s just that most people don’t see the price. No matter how far I run, I always come back to this city. To the Family.
“Evelyn!” My father descends the curved open staircase in our foyer as we walk into the house.
“Mr. DiFiero,” she says with a polite smile. “You know nobody calls me that.”
He takes her by the shoulders, lightly kissing both her cheeks. “And I’ll never understand why. It’s a beautiful name.”
She blushes and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. My father has that sort of effect on women when he turns on the charm. I don’t think the PTA ever voted against anything he suggested, and it wasn’t out of fear.
Usually.
Every second that ticks by is like nails on a chalkboard for my nerves. Somewhere in the house is a man who’s probably pissed at me for all the wrong reasons. Or at least, mostly the wrong reasons. Instead of tracking him down, I’m stuck here watching my father flirt with my roommate.
Dad puts his arm around me and gives a little squeeze. “I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better. This is a good thing for everyone. Just wait and see.”
I’m so dead.
“Yeah, I was just going to show Evie her room. I’m sure you remember how beat I usually am after landing.”
“Of course!” He gives me a kiss on the cheek and pulls away. “Come down when you’re feeling up for it, Evelyn. The kitchen is staffed all night. I’ll have Millie make up a tray and put it in the fridge.”
“Thank you, M
r. DiFiero.” She smiles graciously.
“Emilio, eh? We’re nearly family.” With a wink, he walks off, leaving us alone.
“So he’s really…?” Evie looks at me with a dazed expression.
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Is it wrong to say I like him?” she whispers as we walk up the stairs. “I mean, in the movies and stuff, it all seems so… bad, but your da’s always been so nice.”
I nod. “He is.”
Except when he isn’t, but I’m usually sheltered from that side of him. Even the mess with the engagement he isn’t doing to be cruel. He just sees it as one of my responsibilities, and he probably even thinks we’ll make a good match once we’re together.
Wouldn’t life be easy if bad was bad and good was good?
We go to church every Sunday, donate more than our fair share to charity and our family is personally responsible for funding Ivy League scholarships for disadvantaged local students.
We also thumb our noses at the law, running multiple illegal businesses that the IRS never gets a whiff of alongside our legitimate income. My family rewards loyalty, and while the Caporossis have a more brutal reputation, we don’t hesitate to put down those who stand in our way.
My uncle—a man who in addition to being my father’s gun, loved birds and telling bedtime stories—was killed in a raid by a cop who went down two years later for brutally beating a teenager who’d shoplifted a six-pack of beer. What is good? Mafia is the old blood this city tries to deny but has never quite gotten rid of because we’re in its heart.
This baby is more than just an inconvenience. His or her veins run with that same blood. I can only hope that in the end, that counts for enough. It might not be the link my father and Giuseppe wanted, but it is a link, isn’t it?
I’m lost in my own thoughts when I lead Evie into the room across from mine. It’s not as large, but it’s beautifully decorated in shades of cream and gold, has a great balcony and lots of windows. In the middle of the gilded, four-poster bed is a pile of luggage.
“Holy fecking shite.”
I snort in amusement. “Been hanging out with the Dubliner?”
Evie waves her hand in my direction, too busy looking around to pay attention to my teasing. “Shut it. This is like a hotel.” She pulls her bags off the bed and throws herself down onto it with a contented sigh. “I’m going to close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping on a cloud for a bit.”
“Do you mind if I go? I’ll stay if you want, but I’ve got someone I need to talk to. Evie?”
A light snore comes from the center of the bed. I laugh and pluck her phone out of her pocket. I’ll grab an adapter from my room so it’s charged and she can call when she wakes up.
And in the meantime, it’s time to find a pair of broad shoulders to share the load of the secret I’m carrying.
23
Andrea
The lights are off in my bedroom, but the sunset bathes it in a warm shade of golden orange, highlighting my laptop bag on the couch. I dig through it until I find what I’m looking for. Adapter in hand, I turn to bring it back to Evie’s room, when I catch sight of the hulking figure sitting on my bed.
“Montana…”
His face is shrouded in darkness, mood impossible to read. “She’s asleep? She looked pretty exhausted.”
“Yeah.” I thought I was ready, but words fail me. I need more time.
“Give me one good reason not to make a call.” His voice is calm, but there’s a whisper of anguish and it gives me hope. “You fucking know that’s why I’m here, so I can run back to my family at the first sign of trouble.”
“It’s yours,” I whisper. He doesn’t move, not even a little. Stepping closer, I hold out my hands, silently pleading with him to understand. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“Girl shit,” he growls. “How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you known?”
“Two days.”
Montana nods. “The run to the store.”
“The doctor took a blood test, but she said if the home tests were positive, I’m… pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Saying the words feels like serving him up my heart on a platter.
He finally reacts, a jerk that makes it look like I slapped him. “Stop it. I know how to use a condom. I get why you want me on your side, but don’t lie.” The words are low and rough, slamming home in my chest like stabs of a knife.
In all of the scenarios I’d conjured up in my head, him not believing me wasn’t in them. But why should he? I’m just some woman who was easy enough to sleep with a guy she barely knew and not even want his phone number afterwards.
“It’s the truth.” I take another step forward, stopping just before my legs brush against his. “I can’t prove it without more tests, but I’ll take them if you want. You have to believe me. Do you want me to beg?” I drop to my knees on the carpet. “I know you haven’t known me long, but I’m not the begging type, and I’m really not the one night stand type.”
“Stand up,” he orders, trying to pull me to my feet.
I refuse. “It’s you. Short of immaculate conception, it’s only you.” Tears trickle down my cheeks, but I can’t break down until he believes me
“Stand up, Andrea!” This time he grabs my arms and forces me off the floor.
In front of him, I’m stripped bare. This man literally has my future in his hands. There is so much good in him, but is it enough?
He looks out the window for what feels like an eternity. When he turns back to me, I hold my breath. Lifting his arm, he places his hand over my stomach cautiously, like he expects to get burned.
I cover his fingers with my own, holding him there. “It’s the truth.”
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“Pretty much.”
“We’re so screwed.”
“Yep.”
When he looks up, his eyes are like two black embers just waiting to flare into life. The closeness of our positions slams down on me, as does the way his collar falls open, exposing a tempting triangle of powerful chest.
“He can’t fucking have you.” His voice is a deep murmur that sends shivers down my spine. “I was going to do the right thing. You deserve more than what I can give you.”
I shake my head. “It was never the right thing.”
“Mine,” he says with a rough sort of wonder.
Is he talking about me, or the baby? I stroke my hand over the prickly softness of his beard. “Yours.”
Montana turns his head, following my movement and kissing my palm. The sweetness of his gesture makes me weak in the knees, and warm in other, more personal, areas. Our chemistry has been undeniable from the start, but this? This is more. I’m carrying his child, and suddenly I want—no, need—him to claim all of me.
I start to work at the buttons of his shirt. He stands quickly, apparently feeling the same drive to come together. Our clothes go flying, and so do I. Right back onto my mattress. There’s no time to be self-conscious about my simple bra and panties, because when I look into his eyes, the naked desire I see there steals my breath away.
Before I get the chance to ogle his hard body, he’s on top of me. He places a kiss on my stomach, whiskers tickling my skin. “Mine.” My fingers dive into his thick hair, gripping it in two handfuls and guiding his kisses as he lays claim to my body. “Mine,” he whispers again and again, as he finds new, more sensitive spots.
My collarbone. My breasts. He unhooks my bra and pulls it away. His warm tongue circles my nipple, before he traps it between his teeth and gives a playful tug. I gasp, back arching at the erotic explosion that shoots right through me.
Letting my nipple slip from his lips, he kisses down the side of my breast, into the valley between them, and then gives my other breast the same delicious treatment.
The slickness between my thighs makes my panties cling to my skin. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and slides them down, e
xposing me completely. I giggle when he flicks my navel with his tongue.
“Watch it!”
“Ticklish, huh? Good to know.” He grins up at me, and sends my panties flying.
Every nerve in my body is tense, waiting for his next move. His mouth passes over my mons without stopping, the warmth of his breath a wonderful torture. Kissing the inside of my thigh, he teases me until I can barely stand the wait. My legs drift apart, urging him to get on with it.
His chest rumbles with a deep chuckle. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you, don’t rush me.”
My answering whimper just makes him slow down.
He’s so close I can feel the heat of his mouth hovering over my pussy, a clear contrast to the cool air of the room. One barely there kiss, and he’s gone again.
With a crunch that would make any personal trainer proud, I reach down and get a better grip on his hair, pulling him right back where I want him. “I think a month is long enough to wait.”
There’s no way I can physically force him to do anything he doesn’t want, but this time our goals are in line, and he resists only long enough to laugh. His tongue presses against me, impossibly wide and hot as it slides between my folds. He licks me long and hard from my core to my swollen clit. My thighs tremble and I let out a throaty moan as I finally get what I want.
“Yes,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Over and over, he licks me like the sweetest candy, sometimes teasing his way inside, and others making soft spirals over my juicy flesh. Deep, satisfied noises rumble in his throat, adding vibrations of their own, and his beard prickles and teases my thighs.
The sensations build and my legs jerk. Every moan that escapes my mouth makes him concentrate more effort around my clit, swirling and flicking, sometimes even sucking it into his mouth and nibbling gently.
Finally, I can’t hold back anymore. I groan loudly, arching my back and pressing my needy pussy into his mouth. His hands grip my ass, supporting me as he drives me higher. I come apart, gasping for breath and squeezing my eyes shut until I see stars. “Holy shit.” My voice is strangled and breathy.
