Savage: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

by Penelope Bloom

The corner of his mouth twitches in a grin.

  I put a finger to my lips, rubbing them slowly as I examine him, letting my thoughts prod his psyche. “People think all humans are the top of the food chain, but I think it’s more complicated than that. Some humans prey on others. Apex predators. They are stronger and more clever than most people, and because normal pursuits aren’t challenging enough for them, they assert their dominance over others. I think that’s you. The apex predator.”

  He looks down, flashing his long eyelashes before his eyes snap up to meet mine. “If I’m the apex predator, and you won’t submit to me, what does that make you?”

  I laugh softly. “Your match, I suppose.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Is that why I can’t get you out of my head?”

  My thoughts exactly. I can’t help wondering if I’m drawn to him because he challenges me. Where most men are like open books to me, Leo is a mystery. He’s dark and dangerous, and the only way to find out more is to get close, if I dare.

  We’re served an entree of foie gras. Leo tells me it’s the liver of ducks that are specially fattened to make the liver more tender. I try not to look disgusted. Liver? I have to admit it looks appetizing though, like a darkened, glazed chicken breast. I jab at it with my fork, surprised by the buttery texture. Leo watches me in amusement, eyes twinkling in the candlelight. Someone laughs a few tables over and a waiter clatters several plates together at the back of the restaurant. If not for the tattoos peeking up his neck and hands, I could almost think I was dining with a wealthy gentleman who comes from a long family line of old money.

  Almost.

  The power in his body betrays the truth. Easy lives don’t make faces and bodies like his. There’s no way a man who grew up sipping cocktails and lounging poolside could hold so much fire in his eyes. His confidence wouldn’t be so real, so primal. No. This is not a soft man with a soft past. He has done and seen things worse than I can imagine, and still I can’t make myself walk away. He fascinates me. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

  He doesn’t speak much, but his body language and eyes say so much more than most men can communicate with words. It’s all in the steamy glances and appraising movement of his eyes, the way he has a tendency to bite or lick his lips when he looks at me—a dead giveaway for sexual attraction, if it wasn’t already obvious enough.

  I set down my fork before I eat myself into a food coma. The foie gras is buttery smooth and seasoned with a delicious sauce that tastes like cranberries, and it’s served over a bed of vegetables that are cooked so perfectly and flavorfully that I would come back just to order them. The wine is like nothing I’ve ever tasted. It’s sweeter than I usually prefer, but there’s a warm note that follows every sip and seems to burn away the sweet. It pairs perfectly with the meal, and I can’t help sitting back and smiling when I’m finished.

  “That was incredible,” I say.

  “It’s my favorite. I knew you would like it.”

  “You still haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

  He nods slowly, tossing his napkin on the table and running a thumb across his lips. “Old habit, I guess. Tell me what you want to know and I’ll tell you if I can answer.”

  “What do you really do for a living?”

  “Next question.”

  “I need to know what you do for a living.”

  “Haven’t you already guessed?” he asks.

  I swallow. Yes. Mafia, probably. Too smart for a street criminal and too dangerous for anything legitimate. “I’m tired of guessing. I want you to answer me, or this isn’t going to work. What do you do?”

  He gives me a strange look, narrowing his eyes as if he’s seeing me in a new light for the first time. “Fine,” he says, leaning back and setting his napkin down on the table. “I hurt people.”

  It feels like the room grows a little darker, as if the candle flickers in the face of his darkness. “Have you...killed?”

  “Do you really think I’m going to answer that?”

  Yes, he has. Jesus Christ, Julia, what are you doing with this man? “Do you have kids?”

  He laughs. “No. Hell no.”

  “Family?” I know from talking to Callie that he’s related to Damian and Vince, but I want to see how much he’s willing to tell me.

  “Sure. Parents are gone, but I have a little brother and cousins up in New York.”

  “Does your family hurt people, too? For a living, I mean?”

  Our waiter sets down a mound of some sort of chocolate cake. He uses a small cup to pour steaming chocolate over the top, and the cake splits open, revealing a thicker chocolate filling inside. Then he drops two scoops of ice cream beside it. I’m mildly annoyed that he interrupted my interrogation of Leo, but I can’t quite make myself be too mad when I dig my spoon in and taste the chocolate bliss.

  “My family’s business is their own. I don’t get involved.”

  I drop the topic, feeling like I’m tiptoeing around his shut-off point. I take a bite of the chocolate cake. “Wow,” I say.

  He smirks up at me, looking irresistibly handsome in the candlelight. “I used to come here with my parents when I was a kid. My brother and I would always beg them to let us get this desert.”

  I’m surprised to hear him opening up without me prodding. My training tells me the best way to get him to keep talking is to say nothing, so I just watch him, listening intently, waiting through the silences.

  “Coming here always makes me think of them,” he says. His eyes find the candle and stay there, as if he’s transfixed, mind traveling to another place.” A clattering plate a few tables over seems to snap him out of the spell, and I can practically see him closing up. “But that’s the past.”

  I could ask him more, but I sense that he’ll shut me out if I do, so I try something else. “My parents could never afford a place like this, but I used to love it when my mom would take me to this little run-down ice cream place near my dad’s office. It was her way of rewarding me for putting up with the long drive to drop him off at work, I guess, but I have so many memories sitting outside on the splintery wooden bench, eating ice cream with her and laughing over the dumbest things.” A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away, looking at it in surprise. “Sorry, I don’t know what—”

  “She’s sick now, isn’t she?” he asks.

  The question would normally irk me or offend me, but something in his tone softens the blow, making it intimate, almost as if he has been in the same place.

  “Yes,” I say.

  He nods, not asking for more details or asking what’s wrong with her, and I find myself relieved when he doesn’t. “I lost both my parents, one to violence and one to illness.” He laughs humorlessly, looking down briefly before meeting my eye again. “I wouldn’t recommend either, but having my dad there one day and then being gone the next was actually easier. Watching my mom…” He thinks and then seems to fail to find the words. “It’s not easy.”

  A silence hangs between us, and though I can’t quite put my finger on how, I can’t make myself see him the same way anymore. He’s not just a dangerous, sex-crazed Adonis. He’s a person, too. A damaged person, broken, probably even more broken than I am.

  He raises his eyebrows and sighs. “Anything else you want to know?”

  I’m still dealing with the little he has told me and don’t know that I can handle much more for the moment. “How about another date? and we’ll go from there.”

  “I thought this wasn’t a date?” He asks, laughter sparkling in his eyes.

  “Fine. How about we go on a date. I pick the place this time.”

  34

  Leo

  I’ve never seen you like this over a girl, bro,” says Angelo. He sits in the passenger seat of my car. Carlito and Luca Bianchi are in the backseat. Luca is like a parasite, forced on us by the bosses because they want someone they trust keeping an eye on us. If only they knew how spineless Luca was, they probably wouldn’t bother.


  We’re parked outside an Italian restaurant downtown. The owner owes the bosses protection money, and they want me to put the squeeze on him.

  “Like this? What the fuck am I like?” I ask Angelo.

  He grins. “Shit man, you turned down that perfect pair of tits that tried to get with you at Benito’s earlier, for one.”

  I wave him off. “She looked like a bitch.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.”

  “If you’re done with the girl talk, I have to go in there and scare the shit out of this deadbeat.”

  Angelo punches me on the shoulder. “It’s a good look on you is all I’m saying. I like seeing you happy for once.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, getting out of the car and patting my side, feeling the reassuring weight of my piece strapped beneath my arm, inside my suit jacket.

  “Hey, Leo,” says Luca. “The bosses wanted me to remind you to get the interest he owes, too.”

  I ignore Luca, slamming my door and heading toward the restaurant’s front door. Get the interest? Does he really think I need to be reminded?

  The restaurant is pretty deserted, but a guy in a dress shirt undone enough to show his flabby, hairy chest comes out to greet me. I can tell by the way his eyes dart around the room that he knows exactly why I’m here.

  “Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “Let’s talk somewhere private,” I say.

  He smiles shakily. “We can sit at the bar.”

  “More private,” I say.

  He swallows. “Yeah. Okay, we could talk in the back.”

  He leads me past concerned looking servers to the back of the restaurant and gestures at the ground in front of the dishwasher. I motion for him to follow me into the walk-in freezer. He follows me hesitantly. Once we’re inside, I hit the lock on the inside of the fridge. I learned a long time ago that intimidation is a lot like sex. It’s more about the foreplay than the actual act. People are most likely to talk before I’ve ever touched them, and it’s a hell of a lot less messy that way.

  I cross my arms, locking my eyes on him.

  He licks his lips. “I’ll get Marco his money. I just need a few days.”

  I hook my thumb in my jacket and pull it back so he can see the pistol holstered on my side.

  He looks at the pistol, eyes widening. “I can have it tomorrow.”

  “With interest,” I say.

  “Interest? I’m already—”

  I silence him by taking a single step forward.

  “How much interest?” he asks.

  “Why don’t you tell me how much interest you think you should pay for being late?”

  He smiles nervously. “Five percent?”

  I say nothing, staring down at him.

  “Seven percent?”

  “These are pretty thick walls in here,” I say. “Does much sound get through?”

  “Thirty percent,” he says quickly.

  I smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Glad we could come to an agreement.” I leave him slumped in the walk-in, probably counting his blessings. I don’t enjoy scaring the shit out of people, especially when the “protection” they are paying for is a total scam. It’s the same assholes collecting money from them who will be coming by to break their legs if they don’t pay. Just like the only bully on the playground charging a kid three bucks a day to make sure no one takes his lunch money. But hey, the weak get fed on by the strong. If they don’t like it, they can get the fuck out of town for all I care.

  When I get back in the restaurant lobby, I see the few people in the restaurant crowded around the windows. Shouting from outside draws my eye. All the doors to my car are open. Angelo and Carlito are sprinting past the restaurant toward a guy in a tracksuit who is running for his life.

  Shit.

  I shove past a guy, making him drop his beer glass. I’m out the door and turning the corner before I even hear it hit the ground and shatter. They are running as fast as they can down the sidewalk, pushing past people who get in their way, but I’m gaining on them. Angelo catches the guy in the track suit and horse-collars him, whipping him backwards so he slams on the pavement. Carlito rushes in, kicking the guy hard in the ribs. The smart onlookers are running and the stupid ones are staring, getting their phones out.

  I take a look at the guy on the ground and realize it’s Nico Moretti. Shit. Angelo is going to start a fucking war with that temper of his, and I’m going to get tossed in the middle of it. I move from bystander to bystander, snatching their phones and slamming them into the ground where they shatter. It only takes three or four people before the rest of the onlookers start to back away and hide their phones.

  Maybe it’s the tattoos, something in my eye, or maybe it’s just the gun I’m making sure everybody sees, but no one questions me. I still hear the meaty thuds of Angelo and Carlito going to town on this guy as I clear the last of the crowd.

  “Hey you dumb shits, drag him in here if you’re going to rough him up. Jesus Christ.”

  Angelo looks up at me, sweeping a lock of hair from his sweating forehead. “You want in on this?”

  Carlito pauses, too, chest heaving with exhaustion. “It’s because of these fuckers you got thrown in the can. Give it to him, Leo.”

  I ignore them, reaching down to grab the gasping and bleeding Moretti on the ground and drag him by the jacket into the nearby alley. I don’t stop until we’re mostly out of sight and behind a dumpster.

  “Technically, it was your hot fucking temper that got me thrown in jail, Angelo. The Morettis didn’t really do shit to me.”

  Angelo glares at me. He steps toward me, still breathless from beating up Nico. He’s at least half a foot shorter than me, and not nearly as wide in the shoulders. I step closer until my chest presses against his.

  “You want to step to me?” I say. My voice is low and sharp as a knife. “I’d kill for you, but if you want to get tough with me, I’ll set you straight real fucking fast.”

  Angelo’s eyes burn with anger, but he wipes his nose with his knuckles and turns to Nico, who is laughing through his bloody mouth.

  “Sounds like I just got my ass kicked by the bitch of the family,” says Nico.

  I nearly groan. Nico doesn’t realize how hot-tempered Angelo is, but I see it coming before it even happens. Nico walks toward him with a deadly purpose. He lifts his knee above the waist and stomps on Nico’s head as hard as he can. I close my eyes and sigh when I hear the sound. I don’t even need to look to know that Angelo just killed Nico. He killed a made guy in one of the biggest crime families in the city, and he just put blood-red targets on all of our backs.

  I hang up the phone, seething. The Bianchis are already catching heat from the Morettis about Nico’s murder, and the murder coming so soon after I got out of prison has everyone pointing fingers at me. I’d never let anything happen to my little brother, but I sure as hell am tired of cleaning up after him. He had to go dragging me back into his shitstorm when I haven’t even been out of prison a month?

  I slam my hand against the dashboard. I was considering trying to find a way to go clean once I got out, maybe get out of this whole lifestyle and find something legit. I’m not sure what I’d do, maybe start my own business. I used to love flying remote controlled airplanes when I was a kid and I’d dream about flying the real thing. Maybe I could find some kinda work that would let me do that. Either way, none of that matters now. I’m going to have a metric ton of heat on my ass for the foreseeable future, and the only way I can keep my brother safe and keep my ass out of jail and out of the ground is by keeping my ear to the crime world. Getting out now would be a death sentence.

  I’m parked outside the place Julia wanted to meet for our “first” date. I just took her to dinner two days ago, but it feels like it’s been ages. I see her waiting outside the restaurant already. She’s wearing a blue dress that hugs every curve of her body. Her black hair is pulled back in a bun. I smirk a little when I think how perfect a
handhold it would make while she sucked my cock.

  She glances at her phone and then looks around the parking lot hopefully. I’d be doing her a favor if I left. I’m no good for her. Now with all this Moretti shit, I don’t even know if it’s safe for her to be around me. What if they come after me while I’m spending time with her? Shit. I could live with the risk if it was anyone else, but the thought of her getting hurt makes me sick. The worst part is I know I’m going to go to her anyway. I want her too much to do what’s right. I’m going to go to her, eat dinner with her, and then I’m going to eat her out until she begs for my cock.

  I’m about to get out of the car when I notice a white Cadillac cruising slowly through the parking lot. The guy driving is wearing shades and a suit. The guy in the passenger seat has hard eyes. The eyes of a killer.

  Fuck.

  Reality washes over me like a cold bucket of water. It’s over. I meet a woman like no one I’ve ever been with—smart, sexy as hell, and not afraid to test me—and now I have to decide between being with her and keeping her safe.

  I take one more look at Julia, waiting for me outside the restaurant. Maybe my last look. Those guys in the car have to be Morettis. They are looking for me, and they found out where I was going without me knowing. The only way I can keep Julia safe now is to leave. I’m going to have to wipe every trace of myself from her life, every last piece. I’ll change my number, move out of the city, and do whatever it takes to get this shit settled. When I’ve done that, maybe then I can come looking for her.

  If she still wants to be found.

  35

  Julia

  How do you tell a guy you just met a week ago that you might be pregnant? Better yet, how do you explain that you forgot to get the morning after pill after having unprotected sex just because your mom had a fever and needed to be driven to the hospital? I just want to cradle my head in my hands and cry, but the full reality still hasn’t set in, so I’m holding onto my sanity. For now.