Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance Page 3

  He claps a hand on my back. “If she’s keeping you waiting, then fuck her. Move on to the next one.”

  “Oh, I’m going to fuck her.”

  “That’s not—” Damian shakes his head. “Nevermind. Listen, I need to get back to the cards before your brother starts cheating any more than he already is.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Damian heads back to the table, leaving me alone at the bar again, or as alone as I can be in a club full of people who all watch me like some sort of caged beast. Everyone here knows my reputation. They know about what happened between me and the Torrettis once Enzo passed the family business on to me. They know about the fucking bloodbath.

  My fingers tighten into a fist, nails digging into my palms painfully. I force myself to calm. I can dwell on my mistakes another day. Tonight, I’m only interested in Ana. If midnight rolls around and she still hasn’t shown, then fuck dignity, I’m going to show up at her place. One way or another, she’s mine tonight, because if I can’t slake my thirst for her, I’ll end up doing something stupid about the growing problem with the Torrettis. More likely than not, someone will end up dead, and God knows I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.

  Once I’ve drained my drink and rolled around the dregs at the bottom of my glass for half an hour, she arrives.

  I catch just a glimpse of her at the front entrance. Dark red hair. Darker eyebrows, and that look she wears on her face… to most, she probably just looks bored, or angry, but I’ve already stripped away that mask she wears and seen what’s beneath. She’s rebellious at heart, like a wild horse who has been leashed to the wrong master her whole life. She craves the discipline and order of submission deep down, but she probably doesn’t even know it.

  It’s no matter. She’ll learn quickly enough, once I have her to myself.

  I lose her in the crowd when I get up to find her. I push my way through the dance floor, not caring about the annoyed sounds of people who probably would shit themselves if they had a second to realize who they were grumbling at cursing at. I come out on the other side of the dancers and see her moving hesitantly around the edge of the room.

  I can see all of her now. The black dress that comes down to her mid thighs. The black, lace choker she wears that’s out of style but somehow shockingly sexy on her. It draws my eyes to her neck, which has never been something I’ve given much attention to before on women, but hers is exquisite—sleek, long, and delicate. Anticipation fills me at the thought of how soft it will feel beneath my lips, at how I’ll be able to feel her heart racing just above that black choker.

  She’s scanning the room with her hands clasped in front of her, bottom lip pulled into her mouth as she chews at it nervously. Those big eyes of hers are darting all around—even up, but she keeps looking right past me.

  She only spots me when I’m practically on top of her. Her eyes widen and her breath catches.

  “I came,” she says with a quick, anxious laugh, as if she doesn’t even believe it still.

  “And it won’t be the last time tonight,” I say.

  She frowns in momentary confusion before the most beautiful shade of red fills her cheeks. “S-so this is yours?” she asks, choosing to ignore my crude joke.

  So civilized. I’ll enjoy fixing that.

  I grin. She wants to dance around why she’s really here, does she? That’s fine with me. We can play it her way, and it’ll only be that much sweeter when she’s forced to admit where this is headed. “It is,” I say.

  “Wow. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place.” She’s practically yelling, even though the music isn’t quite loud enough to need to speak so loud. Nervous. It’s written all over her features and body language, in the way she keeps awkwardly bobbing her head to some beat—definitely not the beat of the music.

  “It’s a private club,” I say.

  “Oh. Right. I guess you told them to let me in? But they didn’t even ask for my name.”

  “I described you,” I say.

  Her face lights up with interest. “You must have given a pretty good description for them to recognize me out of all these people.”

  “I told them to look for a girl with dark red hair, a perfect body, and blue eyes that could get them into serious trouble. I also showed them your picture,” I add with a slight smile.

  She grins. “I don’t think you get points for the description anymore. Wait. Where did you get a picture of me?”

  “Didn’t you wonder how I knew where to find you at class? Which college you went to? What time you’d be there?”

  She looks down. She hadn’t even thought of it. She’s so innocent it hurts.

  “Stalker,” she teases.

  “When I want something, I’ll use any tool at my disposal.”

  She shifts a little uncomfortably, cheeks flushed red. “I don’t think my eyes ever got anyone into trouble before,” she says, clearly wanting to change the subject.

  “They would if anyone tried to touch you.”

  She gives me a confused look.

  “You asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, didn’t you?”

  She shakes her head, like she’s embarrassed for not knowing what I meant sooner. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  “The problem is, I’m not a very good actor. So if you want me to play the part, you’re going to have to let me convince myself it’s real.” It’s a lie, of course. I’m probably the best fucking actor I know, because I walk around every day and pretend I’m not twisted and black on the inside, like I don’t see the blank eyes of the men I’ve killed when I try to sleep.

  “Okay,” she says.

  I smirk. “That sounded a whole hell of a lot like permission.”

  She grins back at me. “You could call it that.”

  I take her by the small of her back, pulling her in close so her body presses to mine. I’d already forgotten how incredible she feels in my arms. So small. So fragile. Just like the last time I felt her hands against my chest, I’m overcome by a need to protect her, even if there’s no clear signs of danger. All I know is I could never let anything happen to her. Never.

  I kiss her then. I hadn’t planned to. Not yet, at least, but I want every fucking person in this club to know she’s mine. Off limits.

  She’s stiff against me at first, lips soft and warm but immobile. I splay my fingers across her back, letting the bottom of my hand drift down from her back to the top of her ass, confirming that she did obey my command after all. No panties.

  My cock stirs as she wakes up to the kiss, softening all over, letting her tongue flick against mine and her sweet lips set to work. I pull away before she’s able to have as much as she wants. I want her hungry.

  I nearly chuckle at the look on her face—something between desire and outrage.

  “Hmm,” I say. “I think that will help me pretend to be your boyfriend, at least for a little while. I’ll let you know when I need another reminder.”

  For a moment, I think she’s about to slap me, but she decides to blow out a frustrated breath through her nose instead.

  She lets me lead her past the bar to where Gino and Damian still play cards. Gino’s stack of money has gotten smaller since I last looked, but he has a smug look on his face that tells me he’s still planning something.

  “This the girl you wouldn’t shut up about?” asks Gino.

  Damian covers his mouth to Gino’s side. I doubt Damian has any real reason to fear me, but he’s decent enough to at least not rub his amusement in my face.

  “I told you I was meeting someone tonight and to leave me the fuck alone. You call that not shutting up about her?”

  Gino shrugs. “For you? Yes. Last time you had a girl, I didn’t find out till a few months later when you broke up with her.”

  Because she was nothing to me. The thought comes automatically, heartlessly. I feel a pang of guilt at the thought, but it’s true. I’ve tried dating. I’ve tried casual sex. None of it has ever given me a
nything but a momentary distraction. One time, maybe two times with a woman and then it’s not enough anymore. Like building up tolerance to a drug, I need more than they can give. Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying.

  Until I saw Ana.

  “This is my brother,” I say to her. “Unfortunately.”

  Gino opens his mouth to introduce himself, but I cut him off.

  “He’s an asshole, and he cheats at card games.”

  Damian nods knowingly, but Gino just throws his hands up, proclaiming his innocence.

  “Check his sleeves,” I suggest before leading Ana away from them and toward the elevator.

  When we’re alone in the elevator, Ana flashes me a nervous smile. With the music dulled by the walls, it feels like our first real moment alone. I nearly take her then, but I know my past. I know this is likely to be nothing but a one-off, just another in the long list. So I’m not going to spoil it by rushing things. She’ll get what she came for tonight, but she’s not going to get it until she’s so wet and hungry for it that it aches in her core, until she’s ready to get on her knees and beg me so desperately that her voice gives out.

  It’s going to be a long night for her, and it’s only just begun.

  5

  Ana

  He’s like a statue beside me, radiating heat and the promise of sex. I’ve never seen or felt anything like it before. Most men wait for the prescribed moments to even think about bringing up the topic. Dinner first. Car ride home. Invitation to come inside. Small talk. Nervous waiting. Only when they’re absolutely confident there’s no chance of rejection, only then will they try to take the final step.

  But Angelo?

  He has the kind of confidence I can only imagine a man has to earn. It’s a confidence that says he doesn’t need to tiptoe around any topic or request, that he knows there’s no shame or embarrassment in being refused because anyone who refuses him is the one missing out. He doesn’t even have to say it for it to be painfully obvious.

  He knows I’m going to sleep with him tonight. Not only does he know it, he knows it’s going to be mind-blowing. Toe curling. Life changing.

  All of that knowledge rests in his icy blue eyes, those pools of fiery passion that seem endlessly deep and intoxicating.

  He’s going to be my undoing. He’ll use me and forget me, in all likelihood, and I can’t even stop myself from following along all the same, even when I know the only way this ends is heartbreak.

  “You never asked why,” I say as we wait for the elevator to move.

  “Why what?” he asks in his low, rumbling voice.

  “Why I needed you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t ask because it didn’t matter. I knew I’d do it when I saw you, so I didn’t care to know the reason.”

  He looks back to the doors, completely unworried about pressing the issue and learning more.

  Somehow his lack of interest is refreshing. After a lifetime of being questioned over every minute detail of my life by my father, it’s nice to imagine what it would be like with Angelo, not having to explain every little thing and every action.

  “Well, I still should’ve thanked you. I got a little caught up and forgot to—”

  “No need to thank me,” he says. “Yet,” he adds meaningfully. “You’ll have an opportunity to show me your gratitude tonight. Don’t worry.”

  I’m left to ponder exactly what he means until the doors slide open and reveal the second floor.

  He gestures for me to step out.

  I first notice how much less crowded this floor of the club is. It also feels even more luxurious. The first floor had a modern, classy feel with bright lights and expensive furniture, but this…

  My eyes move from glossy, polished marble floors inlaid with intricate designs to the dark wood walls carved into panels and archways to the twinkling chandeliers hanging overhead. If the first floor was a club for the average person, this floor looks more like a club for the wealthy elite.

  “Wow,” I say.

  There’s no dance floor, and the music is a light, atmospheric piano playing from somewhere deeper in the room. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary until I notice a man and woman disappear into a black-curtained room set off to the side of the main lobby area.

  “What’s back there?” I ask.

  Angelo’s mouth curls up at the corner. “Play your cards right, and you’ll find out.”

  I wait for him to say more, but he seems content to leave me confused and off-balance as we move deeper into the area, passing through the lobby to a seating area with booths and a stage where the piano plays. I notice more of the curtained areas near the back of the room. They draw my eyes, curiosity gnawing at me. What is back behind those curtains?

  The smell of roasted meat and sweet, savory sauces reaches my nose. I realize many of the people here are eating.

  Angelo notices my attention. “Hungry?” he asks.

  “Uhh,” I say. “I completely forgot to bring my money from the car. Do you mind if I just run out and get it real quick?”

  “You think I’d let you pay for your own dinner? I invited you here, Ana. This is my club. I own everything in it,” he adds with a suggestive twitch of his eyebrow as he eyes me.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m just taking advantage of—”

  “Ana,” he says firmly. He takes my face in his hands gently, brushing my lip with his thumb when his eyes fall to my mouth. “You wanted me to pretend to be your boyfriend. That means I get to take care of you. I get to fucking pamper you if that’s what I want. You understand?”

  I give him a wry smile. “I understand.” My father’s overprotective bubble has always made me bristle when guys try to treat me like I can’t do something myself, but somehow… Somehow it feels different from Angelo, like he knows I could handle it myself but he simply enjoys doing it for me. It’s a small distinction, but it’s the only reason I can think that I’m not itching to slap him or tell him off for treating me like some helpless, wounded animal.

  We eat a dinner of light courses like nothing I’ve ever had. Each is barely more than a bite-sized portion. I didn’t know what half of it was, even after the waiter described the dish, because most of the words he used sounded French or Italian. All I know is everything tasted like heaven in my mouth, from the delicate first courses that were light and airy, to the main course of A-5 Wagyu beef with various sauces dabbed on the plate to sample, and the dessert of a paper-thin caramel sheet drizzled with sugar crystals, chocolate syrup, and the ice cream it was served over. Everything was amazing, and it came quickly enough that I barely spoke to Angelo the entire time, except to bulge my eyes with delighted shock at him after every bite.

  “I can’t believe the food is so good at a club,” I say, leaning back in my chair after the waiter has cleared the last of our plates.

  “This isn’t just a club,” he says with a shrug. “I wanted this to be a paradise. It’s the perfect date in a building. Each floor is another stage. Another step.”

  “What’s on the top floor, then?” I ask.

  “You would need to promote me to real boyfriend to find that out.”

  I run my fingers over a loose fabric in tha tablecloth, unable to think how even the seemingly beautiful tablecloth would start to come apart at the seams with the slightest tug. Just one little tug could ruin the whole thing.

  He chuckles. “Easy. I get it. You’re not about commitments. You don’t have to make a face like I just told you someone died.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “It’s just… Well, It’s not that.”

  He watches me curiously, then amusement slips into his expression. “You can have your secrets, for now. But know that when I have you where I want you, nothing will be hidden. You’ll be bare to me, little pet, body and mind.”

  A chill runs through me. “And if I don’t want to bare my mind to you?”

  “Then you had better leave now, before I am too far gone to ever let yo
u walk out of here.”

  “You’d just let me walk away?” I ask, feeling a little stung that he’d give me up so easily.

  He grins. “I’ll admit I might try to persuade you to stay. But no, I wouldn’t force you. Part of the fun is knowing you could leave. I enjoy watching the struggle behind your eyes. The battle between what is sensible and what you know you really want.”

  “And what do I really want, in your estimation?” I ask, heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  “Release.”

  I scoff, surprised and oddly annoyed, if only because his response rings so true that I feel violated. His answer seemed more right than the one that came to my mind. “Well, you’re wrong,” I say, voice edged with stubbornness.

  “I could almost believe you if your cheeks weren’t such a beautiful shade of red.” His eyes drift down my neck and to my breasts. “And if your nipples weren’t hard. I bet you’re wet for me too. I wonder,” he says, the look in his eyes absolutely enthralling. “Will your pussy taste as sweet as your mouth?”

  I drag my eyes away from his, trying to catch my breath and remain somewhat dignified, even as every nerve in my body seems to light up, red-hot and primed for activation, begging for his rough fingertips and hard body. “This is your idea of dinner conversation?” I say through a tight throat. I can feel him testing me with his words, watching and reading my reactions with skilled eyes that don’t seem to miss a thing.

  “You want release, Ana,” he says, ignoring my question. “I don’t know what you’re running from. I don’t know why. And it doesn’t matter to me, unless you want it to. Release from responsibilities. From your past. From the future. From yourself. Whatever it is, I can give it. When you submit to me, you can lay all your burdens at my feet. You can set them aside for as long as you like. I’ll bear the weight for you.”

  I realize I’m leaning forward, hands on the table, eyes intent. I lean back, trying to compose myself. Angelo is offering me a choice. Like a hand extending from the darkness, he’s offering to pull me through that doorway and into his world, but it’s a world I know nothing of. Yet, when I look around myself, all I can see is the cage my father has built. Year after year he has reinforced the walls, building the cage thicker and thicker. Angelo is offering me an escape from my cage. An escape to what?