Angelo: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Bella Love-Wins

  Several times I almost opened my mouth and said something to Paige, almost dropped the bomb.

  But I couldn’t do it. Not only could I not hurt her, but the repercussions of revealing what I knew might prove worse than imagined.

  I didn’t lie when I said the young man in the photo was a family friend. That he was.

  But he was also more than that.

  He was Paige’s future husband.

  Alfredo ‘The Pistol’ Moretti.

  The reasons behind the murder of Paige’s parents had remained secret for years. Though I remembered them from growing up, just like I did the twins, I’d never spent too much time wondering just what had happened to them.

  In the world I grew up in, sometimes things just ‘happened’. Asking questions wasn’t always the wisest choice.

  “I hope it works out with your new position,” I found myself saying.

  The words sounded ridiculous; talk about work pointless with so much else going on.

  “Thanks,” came her just as hollow response.

  I glanced over at Paige. Her head hung down, her eyes on her lap.

  “If I marry this man,” she slowly said. “What kind of life is that?”

  I opened my mouth then shut it, pain coursing through me.

  “Will I be able to work or make any decisions for myself?” she asked, turning to look out the window at a time when I needed to see her face. “Am I even get to stay in New York, or will I even have a say in anything? This is just crazy. Does anyone have any answers?”

  “I don’t know,” I rasped.

  She vehemently shook her head. “I’m not doing this.”

  She was preaching to the choir.

  Paige’s nose wrinkled. “I just have to know. Did my parents make this arrangement? If not, did they know?” She sighed, not waiting for my answer. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m not going to do it.”

  “I don’t want you to, if that helps.”

  She smiled sadly at me.

  We were quiet until we hit Brooklyn. Paige’s phone beeped and she pulled it from her pocket to read a text.

  “It’s Sophia. She says she just got a gig.” She read a moment more. “In Stockholm. She’ll be back in a couple weeks.”

  “A gig, huh?”

  I knew what that meant. This ‘job’ likely had nothing to do with DJ tasks. “You can’t stay by yourself at your apartment.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I know you’re an independent young woman...”

  She smiled cockily, the first real playful look I’d seen on her all day. “Yeah?”

  “Yes, but you just left the hospital...”

  And I don’t want you to go. And I’m worried I’ll never see you again. I wanted to add those things, but doing so would be pointless.

  And kind of terrifying.

  “And you shouldn’t be alone,” I finished. “Something could happen. What if you have another episode?”

  “That was the only panic attack I’ve ever had. And I’ve accepted what caused it. It’s done with.”

  “But now that you’re remembering things, something else could come up.”

  Her lips pursed. She couldn’t deny the argument.

  “Stay at my condo.”

  “What about Franko and his friends? Aren’t they staying there? Thanks, Angelo, but I don’t really want to share bathroom space with a few college guys.”

  “They’re gone. They’ve already left for Baton Rouge. And as far as space, there’s plenty of it there. You can have your own room and bathroom… Or you can share mine if you like.”

  I tensed, waiting for her reply. This was the first time I offered to put a woman up in my home, to share my bed with her. The thought filled me with both dread and exhilaration.

  Maybe she needed her own room instead. Her own space. That might stop me from getting too used to her being around. Just a couple nights sleeping by her side had done something to me. Any more and I would have a mental breakdown once she was gone.

  Paige didn’t say anything.

  Attempting to convince her, I reached out and touched her hand. She looked down at where our fingers met.

  At the spur of the moment, I turned the car to the right, going down a street full of brownstones. Luckily, an empty parking spot popped up. I pulled into it and set the brake.

  Paige looked wildly around. “What are we doing? Why did you stop here?”

  I turned in my seat to face her, then placed a hand on her jaw. Her eyelashes automatically fluttered and her breathing went heavy, the exhales washing against my wrist.

  “Stay with me,” I whispered. “At least for a few days.”

  “Angelo...”

  “Why can’t you just say yes?”

  “Because… of everything.”

  “The arrangement?”

  Her eyes lifted to mine. “Yes.”

  “That’s the main thing?”

  “Yes. Believe me, I… I want to. God, I want to.”

  Desire filled my veins. The need to take her right there in that car nearly overpowered me, but I kept it together, keeping my hand on her face and the space between us good and clear.

  “You said you weren’t going through with it.”

  Her face fell. “Yeah, I did say that.”

  “Then what? What’s the problem?”

  “What if… I don’t know...” She shook her head, shaking my hand loose. “This is so complicated now. Sophia told me not to mess with you. And now I’m...”

  Attached? Was that the next word? The one she couldn’t bring herself to say?

  I knew all about getting attached when you hadn’t meant to.

  “There are too many reasons for you to stay with me, Paige. First of all, your safety. And secondly, I want you to. I don’t know what will happen next for us, but I know that I can’t let you walk away that easily.”

  Her posture changed, her shoulders rising and her face turning back towards mine. Seeing an opportunity, I took it and leaned forward to kiss her.

  She gave in immediately, relaxing as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as the seat belts allowed.

  My pulse thrummed and my dick hardened. I couldn’t think about tomorrow. All we had anyway was right now.

  And right now, I needed to get her back to my penthouse.

  I kissed her a little harder, sliding one hand down to press it against the curve in her lower back. My thumb swirled in circles, grazing the slip of bare skin between her sweater and pants.

  Paige pushed forward a little bit more. I grabbed her hip and dug my fingers in, eager to have her on top of me.

  She pulled back slightly. “You sure know how to convince a girl.”

  “I wasn’t done yet.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “We’re parked on the street. I mean, I know it’s dark and all...”

  “Mm hmm,” I murmured in agreement, running the back of my hand first down her throat then the center of her chest.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You really think that?”

  Paige bit back a smile. I grinned back, the stress of our lives forgotten about for one minute.

  We could keep that minute going. Extend it into another one, and then another one. For how long, I didn’t know, but God, we could try.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered, taking me by surprise by grabbing my hand and resting it right between her legs. It was hot there, and slightly damp.

  I shifted in my seat, my dick so eager for escape that sitting still was rapidly becoming excruciating.

  I ran my fingers across the fabric of her pants. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  “I take it that’s a yes?”

  Paige’s eyes snapped open. “Just for a few days.”

  I hesitated. “Sure. For a few days.”

  “Just to make sure I’m back to normal. Or, you know, whatever normal is for me.”

  I solemnly nodded and pulled back into my ow
n seat. With her finally broken, I couldn’t wait to get the two of us back to my penthouse to rip her clothes off.

  “Will you take me to my apartment first, though? I need to get work clothes.”

  I checked for traffic and then pulled out of the parking spot. “Will do.”

  So, I’d gotten my extra minute.

  Unfortunately, that new sixty seconds was the only thing guaranteed.

  Chapter Ten - Paige

  I packed just enough outfits for three days. No more and no less. I couldn’t tease myself by bringing anything extra.

  Staying at Angelo’s meant treading dangerous, shark infested waters. Even though I knew I couldn’t go through with the arranged marriage, even if I was threatened by Moretti or anyone else, things would soon get complicated between me and Angelo.

  I was falling for the guy. Hard. I wanted to tell myself it was because of my two-year dry spell, but I knew it wasn’t. It was him. Plain and simple.

  Who knew what would happen once I refused to marry this Moretti guy? We didn’t know just how Angelo’s family was tied up in it all, but if it looked like he was part of my reason for refusing to go through with it, no doubt things would get bad for him.

  The situation was anything but simple.

  I needed simple. I needed average. Normal. I needed a guy who worked at a bank or an elementary school. A guy who rode his bike home at the end of every shift and spent each Sunday with his family on Staten Island, eating potato salad and dry turkey and watching football. The kind of guy who didn’t even know the mafia still existed.

  The problem, though, is no average guy has the things Angelo does. Average guys don’t melt a girl’s panties with one look. They don’t have a touch that turns you into jelly. And not all of them stay with you all day in a hospital, doting on you nonstop. Especially not after knowing each other for such a short amount of time.

  Even without the arranged marriage part getting in the way, Angelo and I probably wouldn’t have lasted. We started off so hot and heavy, I was sure the glory days would fizzle away to something lukewarm and uninteresting.

  At Angelo’s building, we stepped out of the car right at the front stoop. He tossed his keys to a valet then rested his hand on my elbow and guided me towards the door being opened by a doorman. I was slightly embarrassed walking into such a nice building with a crappy old sweater on and a duffel bag hanging from one hand, but I kept my head high.

  The elevator glided up the floors, taking us to the fifteenth, the top.

  The ends of the short hallway were visible from the center. There was only one door, directly in front of us. Angelo found his key and let us in.

  The large main room stretched out before us, as big as my entire apartment. The far wall, made of exposed brick, held four windows exposing the view of the building across the street. Paneled wood on the bottom and burnt orange paint on the top decorated the other four walls. With exposed beams and a thick, silver pipe running across the length of the ceiling, the place was something out of a magazine.

  Angelo securely locked the door behind us, giving me another moment to take in the bookcases, two long, matching couches, and grand piano.

  “I’ll show you your room,” he said from behind me.

  I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see my disappointment. So much for his suggestion that we share a bed. What happened to the one night we slept together at his family house? Was that just a fluke?

  It was probably just as well. Though I would only be staying there for a few days, I needed to keep reminding myself that it was all temporary. Sharing a bedroom together might make things harder anyway.

  We walked through a doorway and into a smaller room. The doorway to the right revealed a kitchen and the one to the left a sitting room of some sort.

  Right in front of us a polished wooden staircase wound up. I trailed behind Angelo, surreptitiously gleaning all the clues I could. The place was a mansion. And in the middle of the city, no less. Being in Angelo’s penthouse was like stepping back in time to New York’s Gilded Age.

  Unlike his family home, the walls contained no photos. There seemed to be plenty of furniture, but the space was immaculate and elegantly put together. It didn’t have a lived-in feel at all.

  The new landing took us down a wide hallway and past several closed doors.

  “Here’s the best guest room,” he said, stopping at one near the end of the hall.

  Decorated in off whites and creams, it contained a king size bed, a love seat, and a pretty Oriental screen decorated with flowers.

  “The bathroom is there.” He pointed to the door to the left. “And there’s a walk-in closet in there as well. And this...”

  He walked to the space directly across the bed and clasped two small knobs on what I previously thought was a normal dividing screen. Pulling them, the screen divided in half to reveal a flat screen TV on the wall.

  “Is the TV,” he finished.

  “Wow,” I breathed, genuinely impressed. “This is really nice.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  The question made me realize I was ravenous. “Yeah, I am.”

  “I can go start some dinner. What would you like?”

  I shrugged. “Oh, anything is fine.”

  “I’ll see what I can whip up. I can also have something sent over, if there’s anything in particular...”

  “No, really. Anything is fine. Thank you.”

  “Would you like to take a shower?”

  I nodded.

  He returned the nod, albeit stiffly.

  What changed with him? He’d been the one to insist I stay over. One moment he seemed doting, and then the next cold. Was actually having me there proving to be awkward for him?

  Angelo left and I explored the bathroom. My entire bedroom could fit in the closet, and there was a shower stall, plus a deep, circular jacuzzi tub with jets.

  I undressed and climbed into the shower’s hot spray, letting the water’s jets massage the knots in my neck and shoulders. When I got so hot I couldn’t handle it anymore I climbed out and got dressed. I eyed the tub and promised myself a soak the next night. Moving back down the hallway, I resisted the urge to open any of the doors and look in them. For such an empty-feeling home, there sure were a lot of doors.

  I found Angelo in the dining room off from the kitchen, filling two plates with pasta and salad.

  “Just in time,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I hope this is all right.

  “That looks great. Thanks for cooking.”

  We settled down across from each other at the massive table and began eating. Though a simple meal, it was delicious and I had to fight to not consume it like a hungry wolf. A true Italian, Angelo could make a mean marinara sauce.

  “You’re a pretty decent cook,” I told him.

  “I only know how to make a few things. My mother’s recipes.”

  “Oh. Well this is great. Is this weird?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “Having me here?”

  Angelo seemed to weight the answer for a few moments. “Maybe. But I like it.”

  I nodded and went back to my food.

  I got it. The thing we had going on between us, whatever you could call it, was highly unusual. He probably didn’t make it a habit of having female guests over. Not for days on end anyway.

  If anything, I should be the one feeling the most awkward. I tried to turn him down.

  Though I really didn’t want to.

  I looked for a way to change the topic. “How long have you lived here for?”

  “A few years.”

  “And always alone?”

  “Yes.” His fork stilled. “I admit, though, I don’t spend much time here.”

  “Ah.” I could tell.

  “How are you feeling? Did the shower help?”

  “Yeah. It did. Thanks. That’s some, ah, awesome shower head pressure...”

  He kept looking at me from across the table, his gaze falling over me and making my t
emperature climb. The memory of his hands on me in the car came back, along with the way my own body responded.

  Feeling awkward and put off around him at all seemed crazy. This was Angelo. We’d known each other in the most intimate way.

  I couldn’t wait to get back to that.

  As if reading my mind, Angelo stood up and walked purposefully around the edge of the table. I stood as well, my eyes transfixed on his face and the rest of dinner forgotten about.

  Angelo stopped inches away from me, his eyes rapidly flicking between the two of mine.

  I lifted my chin, letting my lips part slightly. His face had become flushed, but in a way, that had nothing to do with embarrassment. His own lips opened. Down, down, his eyes went, studying my body, one hidden beneath jeans and a button-up blouse.

  One hand slowly came forward to finger a button on my shirt. Angelo fiddled slightly with it, then pushed a couple of his fingers through the fabric’s opening. His touch grazed against my bra and I sighed in anticipation.

  With a quick movement, Angelo grabbed the front of my blouse and tore it open. I jumped in surprise, the little ivory buttons hitting the table and wall.

  Before I could say anything, Angelo mashed his mouth against mine. My body went weak, responding to the promise of all the things it craved.

  To think there had been a possibility I would never have his touch on me again.

  The thought was too much to bear. I pushed it from my mind and focused on the here and now. His lips against mine. His hands running down my sides.

  Wrapping his palms around my hips, Angelo picked me up and set me on the edge of the table. My legs knocked into the chairs, pushing them out of the way.

  Eagerly, my hands grasped at his shirt, yanking it out of the way so my palms could find the smooth skin beneath the clothing. Angelo’s own hands ran up and down my legs, then across my stomach and chest.

  Kissing down my neck, he pushed the cups of my bra down. I arched my back, pressing my torso up towards his face.

  Swollen lips surrounded one of my exposed nipples, then teeth lightly bit. Sucking hard on one breast, Angelo rolled the other one in his hand. I grabbed his hair with both hands and tugged slightly, pushing his face harder against my chest.

  Going back to kissing, he began work on my pants, undoing them and yanking them down. The bra and panties went as well, leaving me bare and exposed on the dining room table.