Chapter 1
THE MAFIA KING’S SECRET BABY
Chapter One
Ava
I toss and turn in bed, knowing on some level I’m asleep, knowing that this is a dream I should want to wake from because this memory is from eleven months ago. Michael’s strong hands are smoothing down my body, his amber-gold eyes fixed on me as if I’m the only woman he’ll ever want, ever need.
He’s a stranger, but when he touches me, my body responds to him like we were made for each other.
Don’t be such a cliché… But the cynical voice can’t win when he lifts me up and presses his powerful grip against my ass, drives forward with his hips, and lays the hard ridge of his bulge against the achingly thin fabric of my tights.
His kisses are more passionate than I have ever experienced, pure heat and blazing fire. He slides his other hand between us, palming the wetness there, groaning as he presses the heel of his palm against my electrified nub.
Then he leans back, stares deeply at me, into me. “This is the first time in years, Ava, I’m not someplace else. I’m right here. With you. Only with you.”
Wake up, I silently scream. You know how this ends.
But the dream traps me, perhaps because I want to be trapped.
He spins to the bed, lays me down, and tears off my tights like they’ve offended him. Cool air hits my skin before his warm lips find me. He kisses up my thighs, gripping my hips like he never wants to let go. When his mouth finds my sex, I gasp, pushing my hips against him.
I’ve never felt anything like this.
He licks and worships until I’m shaking all over. Then he stands, tearing off his stylish shirt to reveal a body carved from marble, muscles straining beneath tight skin. His teeth flash as he drags down his pants and briefs.
His manhood springs free. So big I almost think I won’t be able to take it. A string of precome spills from his trembling tip and lands on my leg. He climbs over me, corded arms braced on either side of my head.
“Nowhere else exists,” he groans, kissing my neck softly. But I can feel my body shiver, a volcano ready to erupt.
I want to speak, to say words that get him as fired up as he’s getting me. But all that comes out is a long, drawn-out moan. I smooth my hands down his strong back, dig my fingernails in until they bend and threaten to snap.
“Don’t worry,” he says firmly. “I’ll go slow. For as long as I can.”
He reaches down, guides his thickness to my entrance, and caresses it up and down my folds, spreading my slickness. Before that magical, beautiful night, I was never confident in the bedroom.
But with Michael, I reach down, stroke him, then guide him inside of me.
I nod, urge him on, slide down his length as he parts my walls and sends electric tension humming through every inch of me. His hips go flush against me, his length buried to the hilt, both of us joined.
“I want to stay here forever,” he growls in my ear. “And I don’t care how cheesy that sounds.”
I know the feeling. Burying my face in his neck, I wrap my arms around him. I breathe in his scent, savoring the feeling of being stretched, coveted, and worshipped.
He growls and leans back so he can look at me. I rock my hips, feeling like his prize.
He thrusts his hips, sliding all the way out, letting me panic at his absence, then sliding in, and out, and in, and out, and—
I bolt upright in the here and now, gasping. It’s not eleven months ago. Michael isn’t here. It’s just me alone in my small apartment, the sheets soaked with sweat and… well, the obvious. I chew my lip, feeling the desperate ache between my legs.
When I woke, and Michael was gone, when I discovered he’d fled in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye, when I learned that all his talk about me making him feel grounded and present and all that crap was, well, crap…
when that happened, I made a promise to myself.
I will not touch myself over that night.
And tonight, I fail.
I slide my hand between my legs and press down on my clit, buck my hips, and close my eyes, remembering how consumed he seemed with me. The veins stood out in his neck and shoulders as he came, his distinctive eyes burning like wildfire.
“I need you to come on my dick,” he groans.
My hand moves impatiently between my legs, whimpers escaping me even as I try to silence them, as if not making noise will make this any less of a self-betrayal.
This is always the moment that gets me: his wildness, his devotion.
The orgasm shatters me. I squeeze my legs around my hand, grinding fast, remembering how his gaze moved between our joined bodies, from my breasts to my face, on repeat, like he didn’t know which turned him on more.
When he came with me, he collapsed, biting my shoulder like a wild animal. Then he kissed over my cheek, my jaw, before finding my lips. I tasted myself on him as I opened my mouth, our tongues tangling in pure bliss.
I stand and turn on the big light, not the soft lamplight I usually keep on, then step into the bathroom. Cold water jerks me out of the fantasy, the little fairytale I shouldn’t indulge… but sometimes do in the weakness of the night.
Michael and I met at a bar. There was banter about art, and sizzling, suggestive comments about the dress I was wearing. I was self-conscious about it, just a little, but every comment he made convinced me I was the most beautiful woman alive.
“Idiot,” I hiss under my breath.
I walk into Theo’s room, the little bundle of perfection that makes it all worth it.
He’s got his father’s amber-gold eyes. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I’m sure he’s asking, Where is Daddy?
I’m imagining it, right? He’s not even two months old yet.
My body is still raw from pregnancy, my lower back aching, nipples tight.
He's two months too young to know. But one day I’ll have to tell him.
I pick him up, rocking him softly.
“I’m so sorry, Ava,” my babysitter says through the phone. “I’ve never done this before, but my dad’s in the hospital and—”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, even though it’s not fine. “Don’t sweat it.”
“Are you sure?”
No.
“Yes, be with your dad.”
“Will your parents be able to watch him?”
No.
“Yes,” I say. “Seriously, don’t even give it a second thought.”
I hang up, looking at myself in the mirror. I’m already dressed for the auction, a big, important event… for the city, for my job. I work for a large gallery owner who was nice enough to give me a shot, and the last thing I want to do is let him down.
I still remember being three months pregnant and wondering how I would make it work, arguing with my boss at the restaurant about how I wanted to be put on steady hours. I needed the money, needed the security. He laughed and mocked me in the middle of the lunch hour for everyone to see.
“Why don’t you go and paint some stupid little pictures instead?”
That was when Adrian appeared—my boss now.
Tall and lean, mid-fifties, pale eyes, and a kind smile, he definitely wasn’t wearing then.
He glared at my boss. At first I thought, great, here comes the hero, ready to hit on me.
I didn’t want a relationship then, and I still don’t.
But after Adrian scared my jackass boss away, I realized he wasn’t like that at all.
“Was that comment about art just spite, or do you really want to work in the art world?”
I shifted on the spot, hands smoothing over my bump. “I just need steady work. I’m pregnant, so…”
“I own a gallery,” he said. “I always need passionate people around me. People willing to put in the work. Do you fit that description?”
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I said proudly.
He nodded at my comment. “Then you’re hired on a two-week trial basis. Prove yourself, and you’ll get full-time hours. And maternity leave if you need it.”
I was stunned. But I wasn’t about to question my luck. Later, once I felt more confident in my role, I asked him why he’d done it. He told me he’d been a hard man once, but his wife had taught him softness. She’d taught him kindness, too. Now he liked to practice it whenever he could.
I call him now.
“Ava,” he says. “Are you almost here?”
“I’m sorry, Adrian. My babysitter canceled.”
“Ah.” A sigh. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, you could be on maternity—”
“No, I want to be there. I was wondering… could I bring Theo? Cassie absolutely loves him, and you said she was going to be fielding calls tonight from a back office, right? Maybe she could watch him?”
I can hear his smile. Some people say it’s creepy, that it never reaches his pale eyes, but I don’t feel that way. “We’d love to help take care of the little man. And, honestly, I’m relieved you’ll be here. We’ll need your eye.”
“Okay, great. Thank you!”
I stand and study myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a blouse, a blazer, and loose-fitting pants, chosen to hide my post-pregnancy figure. I adjust my hair, tied up in a bun, and practice a smile. Showtime.
Theo gurgles when I pick him up from his bassinet and cradle him to my chest. “Are you going to be a good boy for Auntie Cassie?”
He gurgles and blows a spit bubble, looking at me with amber-gold eyes. He tilts his head as if to say, Are you kidding, Mommy? I’m always a good boy!
And he’s right.
Carrying him to the car, I put him in his car seat, checking everything about a dozen times, then get behind the wheel and drive to work.