The Don's Baby: A Bad Boy Romance (27 page)

Sophia

Every little girl has had some sort of fantasy about her future wedding.
All
of them. If someone tells you they haven’t, then they’re lying.

I had had my wedding planned for years when I was little. Of
course
, I would be wearing a blinding white dress. It would be a ridiculous, flared ball gown, and the train would rival Princess Diana’s. I would wear a tiara in my hair, and we would have hundreds of guests. My father would walk me down the aisle and give me away to the man of my dreams, who would be my perfect Prince Charming in every way.

The fantasy changed a little the older that I got. I realized that the dream of having unlimited guests and the grandest of everything that money can buy was not a feasible dream because weddings cost
money,
and sometimes, you have to pay for them on your own. Another thing I realized was that getting married wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do. It wasn’t even that high on the
list
of things I wanted to do. I wanted to work and establish myself in my career. I wanted to live alone and enjoy my independence. I wanted maybe to even date and spend time with different people who potentially could teach me things and who I could have new experiences with.

My actual wedding had come as a rude shock and not one element of it was my own planning. Nothing. From the dress to the guest list, nothing was mine. The dress that had fit me like a glove and made me feel like absolute royalty was not selected by me though I had to wear it. Overall, it was a beautiful ceremony. However, because the pleasure of planning it had been taken from me, I was upset about it. That and the way that I felt about Marcelo in the beginning. Marcelo wasn’t someone I had picked, and I was being forced to leave a job I loved and was good at in order to be married to him. It was really insulting actually, the more I think back to it. Quite frankly, the arrangement was terrible and I had hated all of it.

The second time round was going to be different.

The truth was, we didn’t
need
all of it. We didn’t need
any
of it. All we needed was each other—and that was it.

Neither of us had ever been to St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Madison Avenue, but they asked the least questions concerning the type of ceremony that we were looking for. Our last one had been simple, but this was going to be even more so. Nothing over the top. Just two crazy kids who loved each other and wanted to get married.

There were no guests. Not even our parents. This time, it wasn’t about them. It was about us, as we were the only people who
needed
to be there. We had flowers, but only white roses lining the pews. That was all there was as far as decorations, and for a car, we were just going to use Marcelo’s to get back home when we were done. We spent the night before the wedding together, but in the morning, he left before me so he would wait for me at the church. Elena came over and helped me into my gown. She was going to be my ride to the church.

“I can't believe this is the second time that you’re getting married and you aren’t inviting me for this one either,” she grumbled. She was upset, but she wasn’t that upset. There was a smile on her face, and I could tell that she was happy for me more than anything else. Due to the nature of the first wedding, the planning was completely in the hands of our parents, chiefly Marcelo’s mother who didn’t know any of my friends, so Elena was left off the list. It was a blow at the time because I would have appreciated the support, but then again, she was in total opposition to the marriage the first time around and might have caused a scene at the wedding.

I sort of wanted her to be in attendance at this one, but that wasn’t part of the deal. The whole point of getting married again was to do it for ourselves. Legally, we were
already
married, so we weren’t going to go through all the paperwork again, but what we had lacked was the symbolic joining of two people who actually loved each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The vows hadn’t been true before, and we wanted a chance to say them to each other in a way that was honest and that both of us meant.

“I’m sorry, Elena. Neither of us are having guests, that was the deal,” I said to her. “The last time we didn’t get to plan anything… we just want this one to be for
us
, you know?”

“I know,” she said, exaggerating an eye roll. “Still, it would have been nice to be part of your bridal party,” she said.

“Isn’t it enough that you are the only person we have even told about this?” I asked her.

Getting married in secret wasn’t as hard as we had both anticipated. Once Marcelo had stepped back from the business, we had a lot of free time on our hands to plan our future lives. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we couldn’t
completely
cut ourselves off from the city, but moving between two homes was not something that limited us. I—at the very least—wanted our baby to be born in the city, even if we didn’t live there all the time.

“I suppose I feel a
little
special,” she said, smiling. “Where are you honeymooning?” she asked.

“Santorini for one week before another in Tuscany,” I said. Santorini was for me because fuck if my pregnancy was going to stop me from wearing a bikini, and Tuscany was for him because he wanted to have the wine. I, of course, could not, but that was okay. What was marriage about if not compromise? Once the baby was born and I was done breastfeeding, I could drink like a fish again.

“God, you’re so lucky. He spoils you rotten,” Elena said. “Don’t forget about us here, slumming it in New York City.”

“Elena, you know we are going to be coming back from time to time,” I said lightly. She was helping me ease into my wedding gown. It was very difficult to make maternity wedding gowns because babies grew and pregnant women gained weight. Our best bet was an empire waist design where my belly wouldn’t be an issue and it would be comfortable. We were in our fifth month and everything was right on track. The baby—I knew the sex, Marcelo did not—was a boy, and we had nothing to worry about. Everything was fine, and we were right on track for delivery in December or late November.

“How often is time to time?” she asked me.

“You won’t even notice I’ve been gone,” I said to her. She zipped me into the dress, and I sat on the bed to get my shoes on. Flats, of course. I was pregnant. I wasn’t going to squeeze my swollen ankles into
Louboutins
for anyone, not even Marcelo on our second wedding. My hair was down, and I was doing my own makeup. When we were done, she drove us to the cathedral where Marcelo was waiting with the priest who would marry us.

My father had walked me down the aisle the first time that Marcelo and I had gotten married, so I tried to find solace in that. Neither of us would even
have
our parents there, but walking down the aisle alone, it hurt a little knowing that even if I had wanted him to walk me down the aisle it was not an option. Marcelo and I would have to have a talk about naming the baby after him.

He looked amazing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me. I had told him to dress casually. We were getting married, but it was just us, he didn’t need to impress me. He had on slacks and a dark shirt, no tie. He smiled at me as I walked down the aisle. The organist had so kindly agreed to come and play at the wedding even though it was literally
just
us. My bouquet was a bunch of white roses, the first kind of flower that he had ever gotten for me. He took my hand as I approached him.

There were no ‘dearly beloved’ gathered to celebrate our union. There were no people called to object if they thought we shouldn’t be married. There was no audience of eager, upset, or tearful faces, looking on as we committed our lives to each other. All we wanted was to be able to say our vows to each other, the vows we meant to one another, that would matter when nobody else was around.

He went first. I watched him take both my hands in his two hands. I was confused for a second, expecting that he would have something written down and that he would pull it out then to read it.

“Sophia,” he started, “the first time that I met you, you took my breath away. I couldn’t wait to be able to call you my wife. When you walked down the aisle you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I saw the sadness in your eyes as you said I do and it was at that moment that I should have sworn to never be the reason that you had tears in your eyes again. You deserve the world Sophie, and I swear that I am going to be the one who gives it to you. I love you and I want to show you that I do every single day,” he said.

I had cried at the first wedding, and I was crying now, but for a very different reason. I had written my own vows and was going to pull them out and read them when it was my turn, but I didn’t know if I could measure up to the sincerity I had heard in Marcelo’s earnest, short speech. I swallowed and decided to just say what I meant.

“I didn’t know that there were men like you until we were together. Your heart is so generous and you love with all you have. I have known some of the best moments of my life at your side, and I know that there, beside you, is a place that I can be sure that I will be safe and that you will be there for me. If I didn’t have anything, I would still want you because you sustain me and give me so much. So much more than I deserve or have any right to ask of you. You are the man that I love, and I can’t wait to give birth to your son, Marcelo. If he’s even half the man that you are, it would be more than enough.”

His eyebrows raised a little when I said “son.” I had ruined the surprise, but he didn’t seem mad. He wasn’t crying, but the look on his face was priceless. We kissed, and in that moment, it was only us. For the first time since we had met, our relationship felt like something that we owned and was ours to enjoy. The past several months had been a total rollercoaster. It was sometimes horrible and painful and sometimes I had felt the height of happiness and elation. The beginning of our life hadn’t been fair to us, but without it, we wouldn’t have been able to get to this point, truly pledging ourselves to each other in the most honest way that we knew how. We weren’t
trying
to erase it. We didn’t need a new start. We just needed to be able to own it.

And it was perfect…our tiny, informal wedding, before zero witnesses—besides the priest and the baby in my belly.
Our
baby. That night we would be flying out on our honeymoon, and I couldn’t wait. Finally, we would get the beginning that we deserved.

THE END

CHAPTER ONE

Rafael Neal did a lot of dumb things when his need for reckless adventure and adrenaline rushes craved something bigger and better than the last blast, but even he couldn’t believe what he was doing. As the vice president of the Mountain Tribesmen Motorcycle Club, he knew what could happen if he was found lounging at the party of Headless Reapers Motorcycle Club, and he liked his head sitting right on top of his shoulders. However, it was the First Annual Night of Riley, and this is where he wanted to be.

The yearly party the HRMC put on for their fallen brother was something he’d never planned to attend, but since he heard it was going to get pretty crazy he’d shown up to see for himself. When his mood and need for increased adrenaline happened to fall on the day of the grand party, he knew there was only one place that would do. Live free, play hard, and enjoy life—that was his motto. He never knew when he was going to be riding on that eternal freeway, so he liked to live for today. He could feel the pump of his blood and his hyper-awareness increase the closer he got to the house.

No one paid him any mind as he entered and then circled the party. He was good at hiding in plain sight—and for that, he was glad. There was a lot of muscle in the room, and he was totally in the wrong. If someone questioned him or made him, there would definitely be trouble…and not the good kind. That evening his friends asked him to join them in a lot of different activities; but, once he got something in his mind, it was hard to shake it, and he’d had this party in his mind since he’d gotten out of bed this morning. There would be food, women, and drinks, and he could see what the Headless Reapers were up to these days.

He had just been looking to do something fun, well, something fun and a bit dangerous. Danger always made the fun just a bit sweeter, and he could not deny his craving for an adrenaline rush. As the second-in-command for the MTMC, there was a lot of work and responsibility. There were times he just wanted to kick back or raise a little hell. So what was this? A bit of both. At this event, celebrating “Mask-Face” Riley, everyone would wear masks…for a while, at least. It was the only reason he could walk into a rival club event and not leave in a body bag…or worse.

Looking at all the men in their best masks, he could tell who the people were just based on how they acted. Most had masks like Michael Myers or The Scream while Rafael had a mask that was tighter and featured a cool, white, ceramic-looking face. The club space was large, and there was plenty of seating, food, and drinks for the crowd that seemed to be growing larger before his eyes.

He noticed it was a nice set up they had—with a boxing ring in one corner, a spot for playing cards, another for playing pool, and a very large bar. This group had done very well for itself. It had nothing on his club though. Rafael’s club had all of this plus the hottest chicks. With the exclusion of the sexy, redhead who kept walking past him. His club didn’t have one of her. She was hot as fuck. He had noticed her around, and she had watched him whenever she saw him out on the street, but it wasn’t that she could have known it was him. He had a mask on like every other dude at the event.

She didn’t have on a mask, but neither did any of the club girls. Not that he’d minded looking at the women—without masks was good for him. He returned his attention to the redhead who seemed to be walking around aimlessly, and he wanted to change that. He would give her something to do…him preferably. He watched her circle the room talking to this person or that, but she kept her attention on him. He could feel her hot glances from across the room.

Rafael moved to the large silver pail to pick up a beer and then sat down on a worn leather chair to get comfortable. This was going to be a good night. He could feel it deep down. Something had been brewing with him for a good while. He’d felt like this before but nothing as strong. That had to be the reason he felt so restless and edgy. If he believed in horoscopes, he would have thought something was in retrograde. One of the club girls was always trying to tell him his horoscope or read his tarot; but, he didn’t believe in that. Luck was something that you had or you didn’t. You played your best game with the cards you were given, and you didn’t whine or cry about the outcome.

He watched the curvy redhead circle back for the fourth time. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional way. Looking at her as she moved closer, it was her hair that stood out the most; but, she also had a pleasant smile and a way of looking like she was laid back and taking it all in at the same time.

He stood when she got near his seat and reached out to take her hand. She stopped and looked at him, but he knew she couldn’t see much of his face. He was a large bear of a man he’d been told, but he saw no fear in her eyes because of his size. Looking down at her hand in his and seeing how small and soft it was, made him think about how nice it would be when he felt her stroke his cock. Damn. His mind had his cock in her hand before she could say hello. Not that he didn’t love sex, but just her hand in his had him with a semi-stiffy.

She didn’t look surprised, and he knew she wouldn’t be. He knew interest when he saw it, and he’d been drawing women to him like honeybees long before he was of legal age. He was into lots of things some good…most bad—but how he rewarded himself always included a ride in a nice wet pussy. She couldn’t see his face, but she studied his body so hard you’d have thought she had x-ray vison.

“Do I know you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, but you feel familiar,” said the redhead with the light green eyes. There was intelligence in their depths, and he was glad for that because he couldn’t take being with a bubblehead today.

“I’m not sure about feeling familiar, and it’d be hard to say if you’ve seen me before since we’re all in masks, but I’ve seen you before.” Something about this woman made him want her to know who he was, but that was such a foolish thought. He thought someone might have spiked the beer. He glanced around—just to see if anyone was taking an interest in the two of them talking near the corner of the room.

She looked him up and down, like she was searching for clues to solve the mystery, and he waited until she had completed her perusal. There were a lot of thoughts swirling around her mind. He could almost see them, but he thought he’d just talk to her a bit and figure out how to handle it from there.

“I’ve watched you parade around me for the last half hour or so? Are you on the welcome committee?” Rafael knew this was even more dangerous than just walking in here, taking it all in, and then leaving, which had been his original plan. However, this woman had made that plan disappear. She was the new plan—and damned if that didn’t have him almost grinning under the too-warm mask.

She gave him a smile, and her wandering gaze settled on his face. “We like to be careful here.”

“Do I look dangerous to you?” He almost rolled his eyes at himself. What the fuck was he doing? Of course he looked dangerous—just like everyone else in the room. They were all dangerous, and if she didn’t know that, she was in the wrong place.

She didn’t answer with her mouth, but her eyes relayed the message that she thought he was very dangerous. Smart girl. Standing there, looking like she wanted to say more but not knowing where to start, he decided he would help the conversation along.

“Don’t you think someone with a little more muscle would be having this chat with me if I were seen as a problem?” He wanted to calm her down because if they really knew that the fox was in the henhouse there would be bloody trouble that he didn’t want to get into alone. Not to mention the beef his own club would have with him for causing unnecessary tension.

“My name’s Emma…and yours is…?” She waited, and he was a bit shocked she didn’t try to pull her hand away. In fact, she seemed perfectly content to stand there with him holding it.

“Rafe. Nice to meet you,” he said, as he continued the hold he had on her hand, but he added something. He rubbed the middle of her palm with his rough thumb with the greeting. Her hand felt almost fragile when he engulfed it in his large one. This was when he liked having so much experience with women. The slightly widening of her eyes and the quick, soft inhale of breath told him she was as interested as he thought she was. If there were educational degrees in the study of women, he would have a Masters and a Ph.D. would be in his future. She took a quick breath and a nervous look around the room, signaling that although she may have fallen into the situation with him—where he was slowly seducing her—she remembered where she was.

She pulled her hand back and looked around again, as if to see who had watched this seemingly innocent situation in the middle of all of the party guests. “Have you been here before?” she asked.

He shrugged noncommittally; he wasn’t going to give her any ammunition if she was building a case. There were a couple of Headless Reapers looking their way every once in a while, but he thought the draw was this girl more than any interest they had in him. “If you’d like to show me around, I wouldn’t mind a tour.”

She grabbed him another beer and handed it to him. The women didn’t wear masks—probably because the men wanted to look at their pretty faces as they picked and chose which one they wanted. He knew the drill, and if he was going to get something from the fire-haired girl, they were going to have to change their location.

“So, are you from around here?” She walked slightly in front of him, and the sway of her ass couldn’t help but entice him. He loved denim for himself, but she wore it better than most.

“I’m from everywhere, but I’ve been around here for a good while.” They walked outside and were standing on a large wooden porch. It was cool but not enough that he missed the jacket that he’d put in the saddle bag of his cycle. Still, he felt odd roaming around without it. “How long have you been with the Reapers?”

She looked at him as if she was trying to figure out how she wanted to play this. Was she going to give him a load of shit and say she loved everything or was she going to let the sadness in her eyes seep into the words she was going to give him? “A long time.” She chose the truth…good.

“Do you want to go for a ride and talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” she said with a laugh. “You want to talk about how long I’ve been a Headless Reaper girl?”

“We can talk about anything you’d like, but that seems like a pretty great place to start. For what it’s worth, you look like a woman who appreciates a nice ride?”

“It matters who’s giving it,” she said cockily. He liked a woman with a little spunk, and he chuckled despite the hot mask. He wondered how long it would take them to end the mask portion of this function because he could already see that some of the members were taking off their masks. He’d come, he’d seen, and he’d be better off if he left sometime soon.

“Let me grab a few thing and I’ll meet you out front,” she said, as she walked away.