Chapter 3
Gio
If I couldn’t get Rory to give me the time of day, how in the world was I going to knock her up?
Her refusal to date was a roadblock I never saw coming.
I’d thought for sure there would be a list of men I needed to kill for touching my wife, so the discovery that she’d kept to herself these past seven years was an unexpected surprise.
But at the same time, it was a fucking problem because it slammed the door shut on getting close to her.
There had to be a way around her hard and fast rule to stay away from romantic entanglements.
Think, Gio, think.
Like a bolt of lightning, an idea—a memory—hit me.
How had I not realized my past knowledge of Rory’s deepest desires was my greatest advantage until just now? Especially when I’d given her that bullshit bit about instruction manuals, not realizing I possessed the one to manipulate her all along?
Now all that was left to do was set my plan into motion.
“Come on, you mangy mutt.” My nose wrinkled at the stench as I dragged the mud-covered furball deeper into the alley. I knew Rory passed it on her walk home from the yoga studio where she taught classes—the third of her three jobs—so it was the perfect location to lay my trap.
I jolted when the dog licked my hand, and I gave him the stink eye. “Swear to God, if you have fleas . . .”
My brother and cousin would be laughing their asses off if they could see me now. They knew I fucking hated dogs. Which was why I’d shot my wife down flat when she asked for one early in our marriage.
Checking my watch, I noted the time. Rory was a creature of routine—at least since leaving Chicago—and in all the time I’d been observing her movements, she left her Wednesday night hot yoga class at precisely 4:15 PM, so she should be walking down Main Street toward where I hid right . . . about . . . now.
An evil grin curved on my face a split second before I schooled my features, calling out, “I need help back here! Anyone, please!”
Footsteps sounded on concrete as my wife ran down the alley.
Under my breath, I hissed at the dog, “Play dead.”
The brainless beast had the good sense to listen, flopping onto its back and opening its mouth enough to have its tongue lolling out.
“John?” Rory skittered to a stop when she saw me. “What’s going on?”
Ignoring the suspicion in her tone, I crouched down near the stray dog I’d snatched from a junkyard outside of town. “Do you know anything about dogs? I think he’s hurt.”
“Oh, no.” Her voice softened as she knelt beside me. “Poor thing. There’s an animal shelter a few blocks down the street. Maybe they could take him in?”
“Good idea. I’m still pretty new in town. Do you think you could walk me there?”
Rory nodded. “Yes, of course.”
I hefted my accomplice into my arms, fighting against a gag when he panted right in my face. What did this thing eat to make its breath smell so bad? Garbage?
“This way.” Rory directed me out of the alley toward the shelter.
When we got there and pushed inside, the man behind the reception desk plugged his nose as I moved closer with the disgustingly dirty canine. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I found this pup collapsed a few blocks away.” I grunted; the strain from carrying the heavy mongrel was enough to throw my back out. “Do you think you could see if he’s microchipped? And if not, would you be able to take him in, find him a new home?”
The shelter employee pressed his lips together. “Let me get the scanner.”
“Thank you!” Rory called to his back as I dropped to my knees, easing the dog onto the linoleum floor. Beside me, she stroked down the length of its crusty, matted fur. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy. They’re gonna fix you right up.”
A quick scan between the shoulder blades confirmed what I already knew: this mutt wasn’t microchipped and had no previous owner.
Standing from his crouched position, the man who’d introduced himself as Dean said, “Unfortunately, we don’t have the room to take in another animal.”
Which was exactly what I’d paid him to say.
Balking at that news, I gestured to the dog. “What are we supposed to do with him then?”
Dean shrugged. “You could always take him home yourself.”
Rory chimed in, her voice sugary-sweet. “Is there really nothing you can do?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. My hands are tied. We only have so many crates in the back.”
The woman at my side nodded in understanding, sighing as she stared longingly at the dog. “I’ve always wanted one, but I work so much. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him alone all day.”
Mentally, I rubbed my hands together. This was almost too easy.
“If you’re serious about potentially adopting him, I work from home. Maybe I could keep him during the day while you’re at work?” I offered.
She blinked up at me with those big blue eyes. “You would do that?”
“We can’t let him go back to living on the streets.”
“No, we can’t,” she agreed.
“Once you get him cleaned up, there’s a vet on Pine Ridge Avenue who can make sure he’s up to date on vaccinations.” Dean’s nose wrinkled. “He might need a flea collar too.”
Even though my skin began to crawl, my dedication to collecting the debt Rory owed me was unmatched. If it took cohabitating—even part-time—with this flea-ridden beast to achieve my goal, then so be it.
“Thanks for the tip,” I tossed over my shoulder to Dean on our way out the door.
“Anytime.” The man sounded almost gleeful, as he should, considering he was ten grand richer.
“Um.” Rory peeked up at me almost shyly. “My place is around the corner. Would you mind at all helping me get him bathed?”
My first instinct was to get the hell away from the repulsive animal, but I couldn’t turn down this opportunity to literally get my foot inside the door.
“Yeah, of course. If you give me the address, I can meet you there after popping into the general store for some dog shampoo.”
Her eyes lifted skyward. “Jeez, I didn’t even think of that. Yes, that would be great. I’m at 523 Cedar Street. Apartment 2B.”
I tapped my temple. “Got it. See you there in a bit.”
As we walked in opposite directions, there was an extra pep in my step, knowing I’d taken a giant leap toward achieving my end goal. Forced to interact with me daily, practically sharing a “fur baby,” Rory didn’t stand a chance at resisting the charming John for much longer.
Soon, so fucking soon, I’d have her eating out of the palm of my hand. And hopefully, shortly after that, carrying my child.
“Were you a good boy for John? Of course you were, because you’re the best boy in the whole wide world!” Rory cooed to the dog she’d named Cosmo as she knelt before him to give him belly rubs.
She was head over heels for the hound, and while I cursed his presence in my life no less than a dozen times a day—especially when I was bagging up his massive shits—I could admit he was my most genius idea to date.
Cosmo provided the perfect excuse to infiltrate myself into Rory’s daily routine, and the serotonin boost she got when reuniting with him meant she was extra pliable, more receptive to my subtle advances.
At least once a week, I convinced her to have dinner with me after dropping off the dog, though—for now—it was under the guise of friendship.
Ruffling his beige fur one more time, Rory rose to her feet. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping an eye on him while I’m at work.”
I smiled. “He’s good company, and my coworkers love it when he makes a guest appearance during our video conferences.”
“Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “Are you sure he isn’t too much trouble?”
Shaking my head, I moved toward the door. “Nah, he’s no trouble at all. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ro.”
“Unless . . .” Rory’s hesitant voice had my steps halting, and when I turned around, I found her chewing on a corner of her lower lip. “Unless you wanted to stay for dinner? We could order a pizza, maybe watch a movie?”
This was the first time she’d been the one to suggest I stay to share a meal instead of it being the other way around, and a thrill of victory shot through me.
Humming, I pretended to consider her offer. “Yeah, I could stick around for a bit.” Then I teased, “But no funny business. We’re just friends who kinda share a dog, remember?”
My wife’s cheeks pinkened adorably. “Right. Just friends.”
We got a pie delivered from the pizzeria around the corner and were enjoying the meal on her couch—she didn’t have a kitchen table; the apartment was barely more than an efficiency—when she turned to me and said, “I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
I eyed her quizzically. “About what?”
Rory sighed heavily, setting her plate down on the coffee table, which proved to be a mistake because Cosmo was quick to steal the slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. Instead of scolding her thieving pet, she turned to me.
“I’ve mentioned before that I have a past, and that’s the reason why I don’t date.”
Placing a hand atop hers, I stopped her before she could go any further. “Ro, you really don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” she cut me off, pulling away from my touch. “You’ve been so kind to me. I feel like it’s only fair that I disclose the reason as to why I’m hesitant to move forward with a romantic relationship, with any man and not just you in particular.”
“All right.” I dipped my chin, allowing her to proceed.
“I was, um”—she dropped her gaze to her lap—“married before.”
Little liar. You are currently married.
“Okay . . .”
“And my ex, he’s a dangerous man.”
My blood pressure spiked, and my fists clenched involuntarily as I gritted out, “Did he hurt you?”
Down, boy. You know she’s talking about you, right? You know for a fact you’ve never laid a finger on her.
“No.” Rory shook her head. “But he walked on the wrong side of the law and did terrible things to anyone who stood in his way. Honestly, he should be in jail.”
My lips turned down in a frown. “How did you get mixed up with someone like that?”
Blinking rapidly, her eyes took on a glassy sheen, her voice growing watery.
“He wasn’t always so bad. In the beginning, there was even a time when I thought I was in love with him.
” That completely new information stunned me speechless.
“But then his father died, and he was forced to take over the family business, which was when things took a dark turn. I realized quickly that I needed to get out, but it was a while before I was granted the opportunity to break free and get a fresh start.”
Tell me more about that. Who helped you, tigrotta?
Instead of answering my silent question, Rory continued, “Anyway, after that experience, I refuse to go down that road again. So with marriage off the table, it doesn’t make sense to date since it can’t lead anywhere.”
“You’re awfully traditional, aren’t you?” I remarked.
Rory reared back, instantly going on the defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t mean any offense by it. All I was trying to say is that there are plenty of people who enjoy long-term partnerships without taking a trip down the aisle together. Who’s to say you couldn’t be one of them?”
She stared at me in silence for a while, almost like she was searching for a crack in my good-guy facade. Truth be told, I was worried that if she looked hard enough, she might find one. But eventually, she asked, “Are you one of those people?”
Taking her hand, I replied, “I could be. For the right person.”
“John.” My name came out on a weary exhale. “I really enjoy the time we spend together, but I couldn’t possibly ask you to make those kinds of concessions for me.”
“A piece of paper and a ring don’t matter more than finding companionship with someone I connect with, Ro. And I know it might be asking too much, but can we keep the door open to that being a possibility for us while we continue to get to know each other?”
Her lashes fluttered, dropping to kiss her cheeks. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Rubbing my thumb over her knuckles, I rasped, “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”
No idea at all.