Lined-up cigarettes burn like candles as I hold the flame to them, lighting up the whole row. The white paper wrinkles, turning a smoky, dark color as the small fire licks the head.

At first I thought I’d have a cigarette. It’s been years since I kicked the habit, but something about an unwanted pregnancy with a Mafia don made me want to inhale a lungful of cancerous smoke. I held it up to my lips and thought about the tiny life growing inside me that I just couldn’t make a decision about. I couldn’t draw a single breath of that shit because of one thought running through my head.

It’ll hurt the baby.

The baby. Not the soon-to-be-aborted fetus. Baby.

I look across the neatly trimmed lawn of Parc Mont Royal, staring at the cigarettes quietly burning on the blades of grass.

The best, sanest course of action would be to get a goddamn abortion. Get rid of it before Dad finds out about it and raises hell, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. There’s no rhyme or reason behind it. I just can’t.

What the fuck do I do now? Marry that crazy asshole?

Hell no. You can take care of this yourself without him.

Across the field, a man wearing a leather cut makes a beeline toward me, his steel-toed boots obliterating the grass. He treks right through happy couples sitting down, having picnics, his heated eyes trained on me.

Here we fucking go.

There’s no point in running.

I stand up and extinguish the cigarettes with my shoes, picking my purse off the ground. Heaviness settles in my chest as I recognize Chuck through that dirty blonde beard and his shoulder-length hair. That pigeon tattoo on his shoulder is a dead giveaway, but I’m glad it’s just him.

“How did you find me?”

Chuck stops a foot away from me, crossing his arms.

“I know all your haunts. Let’s go, little girl.”

Little girl? A ripple of anger runs through me.

“Dad must be pretty pissed,” I add casually as we walk toward his bike.

I watch his face carefully, but it’s hard to notice anything behind that wild beard. He doesn’t say a word and a chill runs down my spine.

“He’s not happy. Just like he’s not happy whenever you run off.”

Yeah, I’m just doing this to piss off my old man.

“I’m not trying to run off. I’m trying to live my life.”

“You’re putting yourself in danger every time you take off by yourself.”

In danger? What fucking danger? From the hot guys who want to get their dicks wet?

I climb behind Chuck on his bike and wrap my arms around him, gritting my teeth when the engine roars into life.

What should I say when I get back?

Dad’s going to want a reason why I left the fortress and returned much later than I said I would. Again.

Oh, sorry, Dad. I just had to meet with the guy who knocked me up, who happens to be the bane of your existence.

My arms dig into Chuck’s abdomen as he bikes out of the city. My hair whips around my head as we drive on the freeway and finally take the exit twenty minutes later. Then I lean forward as he rides up the winding path to the fortress, my heart slamming against his back as the huge gates roll into view. They creak open automatically and Chuck drives into the compound, kicking up dust.

There’s a small gathering of people hanging outside the clubhouse when Chuck parks his bike and I slide off the seat. They look away when I glare daggers at anyone staring at me. I’m sure they think that I’m some kind of nuisance. A waste of their resources. The bitchy daughter who’s always going off by herself to do God knows what without an escort.

I walk straight into the clubhouse, ignoring those who wave to me as I seek out my bedroom. The noise almost cuts out when I slam the door shut and rake my hands through my hair, glancing at my meager possessions.

This is what my life has become. Small bits of freedom. A breather here and there before being dragged back to this place that I hate. The drugs. The alcohol. The strippers. A ball of hot shame grows inside me at the thought of actually raising my baby in this place. God, the baby.

Johnny was wrong. This is a disaster.

Loud footsteps crash down the corridor and my insides tense as I recognize the sound of those heavy boots. I sit up straight. Jesus, it sounds as though there’s an elephant thundering down the hallway. The door smashes open and I don’t even blink.

Mom crashes through the door with Dad, whose face is purpled with rage.

What now?

“STUPID FUCKING CUNT!”

“Carlos, stop!”

I stand to my feet, electrified. He throws Mom from his arm, and she makes a painful whimper as her head hits the wall. It’s not as though I haven’t seen him do it dozens of times before, but somehow it feels worse because she’s defending me.

“Don’t touch her, you fucking bastard!”

He whirls on me, spittle flying from his mouth. “I KNOW WHERE YOU WERE!”

I cross my arms as a thrill runs through me. “What?”

“Why the fuck were you at Le Zinc?”

So they saw me at the restaurant. Shit.

I put on a bored voice. “Some people like to eat out, Dad.”

He snarls in my face, jabbing my chest with his finger. “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

“I was having lunch. With a friend.”

“A friend.”

He spits it out as if I uttered a disgusting swearword.

“You fucking stupid bitch.”

“You said that already.”

“You’re meeting Johnny Cravotta behind my back to hurt the MC.”

I slap his hand away from my face. “No, I’m not!”

“Are you going to stand there and lie to me?”

“I’m not—!”

“What the fuck did you tell that greaseball?”

Okay, this is a lot worse than I thought it was.

He lunges at me before I can dodge, and his thick hands wrap around my throat, squeezing hard. I scratch at his fingers as I gulp for breath, fighting back for all I’m worth. He pins me down. My head grinds against the dirty floor and my mother’s screams ring in my ear as blackness pricks at the edge of my vision.

“TELL ME!”

“Stop! Fucking stop it!”

“Get off me!”

“She can’t breathe!”

The screams become a distant roar. I can’t see—I can’t hear. My lungs burn. Fuck, it hurts. I claw at my father’s face and the pressure on my throat relieves.

I roll to my side as oxygen punches my brain and all my senses return. My chest heaves great breaths as Dad crouches over me.

“Start fucking talking.”

A surge of vicious hatred that I’ve never known before consumes everything. I don’t give a fuck about what he does to me.

“I was on a date—” I gasp.

“What?”

“I was on a date with the Italian guy I’m fucking.”

The look on his face is priceless. Stunned doesn’t quite cover it. Shocked beyond belief doesn’t either.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

I’ve never wanted to tell the truth about anything more in my life. I want to rub it in his face and laugh at his pain.

“An Italian?”

“Yeah, I met a guy at a bar and he was Italian—and connected with the mob. You know what, Dad? He was a real gentleman. He told me exactly what he wanted to do with me—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I went to his house. He fucked me really good—”

His hand strikes my face. And again. The blows rain on my head, knocking me into the cheap plywood floor. Stars burst in my vision.

“DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?”

“No!”

Mom backs away from him as he raises his fist and glares at me.

“You—you let one of those disgusting people touch you—”

“He wasn’t disgusting.”

“STOP TALKING!”

“Why should I? Since you care so much about who gets to touch my pussy, maybe I should tell you more about how amazing he was in bed.”

My father can’t even produce a complete sentence. “FUCKING—BITCH! CUNT!”

“I let him come inside my mouth!”

“You sick, twisted bitch.”

Let the whole fucking club hear about it. I don’t give a flying fuck if they know I sucked Johnny Cravotta’s cock and loved it.

“I had some fun for the first time in my goddamn life, and you can’t stand it. You’re the one who can’t keep it in his fucking pants, so don’t you dare tell me who I can and can’t fuck!” I scream at his furious face and grab the hair-cutting scissors on my nightstand.

“SHUT UP!”

I stab at him with the scissors, but he grabs my wrist and twists it painfully. The bones grind together as he grips me hard and wrenches mercilessly. A sharp pain sears up my elbow and I scream.

I need to get out.

A crashing sound pierces my ears and I see Mom cracking my ceramic vase over Dad’s head. His vise grip loosens and I shove him aside.

“Fucking crazy bitch!”

I scramble to my feet and grab the baseball bat hidden behind my bed. “DON’T!”

Bits of ceramic crumble from his head as he dazedly gets to his feet, looking at me with a hatred so poisonous I feel it turning my stomach. “You fucked a goddamn guinea. Some slick-haired, provolone, cock-sucking dago.”

A small smile twitches on my face at the thought of what Johnny might say if he knew my father called him a dago.

“I did. And I loved it.”

Fuck you.

It’s like waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull. His screams seem to shake the walls, and I tighten my grip over the baseball bat.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING DISGRACE! I should fucking kill you!”

He reaches for his hip and I hurl the bat at him. I crash into the door, seized with adrenaline as his screams of fury follow me down the hall. My body smashes into the people hanging outside the door and I shove them aside.

“Get out of my way!”

My shoulder slams into someone. She flies from me and crashes on the floor. I skirt around her, sprinting toward the door.

Something explodes over my head and I cover my face as glass shards sprinkle down. A picture frame sizzles with a small, round hole and I can’t make any sense of it. Then another blast, and a rush of air beside my hand.

I whirl around and see Dad aiming a gun at my head. Mom grabs his arm, wrenching it, sobbing and pleading. He shoves her aside like a bear batting away his cub.

The air freezes. My chest doesn’t move and I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull that trigger, to end my life exactly how he ended so many others before mine.

“Carlos, what the hell are you doing, man?”

A gentle but firm voice rings out in the clubhouse, and my dad’s head wheels toward Chuck.

“My daughter is none of your concern.”

“She’s a member of this club.”

“Who fucked an Italian!” Red-rimmed eyes turn toward me again. “I can’t believe you let one of those slimy fucks touch you.”

I find my voice somehow. “They’re not all bad.”

“OF COURSE THEY ARE!” The gun trembles in his hand. “I can’t look at you without feeling sick to my stomach.”

Same here, asshole.

“Carlos, calm down.”

A gunshot cracks the air, the sound splitting my head in two. I drop to the ground, because I must be dead. He was aiming the gun at me. Then I look over the dirty floor and I see Chuck lying on the floor. Screams hit my ears as the numbness fades. A dark-red pool spreads as Chuck lies in the dust like a dog. His face looks like parchment, that’s how white it is. Glassy eyes search for me as his wheezing breaths echo sharply in the clubhouse.

The man who was always patient with me looks at me, his hand outstretched. He mouths something: Run.

Dad looks at him in disbelief. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to.

My face screws up in pain. “You fucking bastard.”

The gun aims toward me.

He meant to kill me.

I get up to my feet and I burst out of the clubhouse, sprinting so hard that I can’t hear anything but my breathing. I head for those tall iron gates. Julien mans them, and he stiffens when I slide to a halt in front of him.

“What happened? I heard—”

“Let me the fuck out!” I bang my elbows on the gate. Any second my dad’s going to come flying out of the clubhouse and fire into my back.

“I can’t just—”

“OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

I don’t bother to wipe the tears running down my face. I just smash the bars over and over again. If only I had the strength to rip them down for good. These fucking bars have kept me in for too long.

“All right. Jesus.”

He rolls the gate open. It seems to take an eternity for it to open wide enough for me to squeeze through the narrow opening.

“MAYA!”

My father’s voice hits me like a spear to my knees, and I fall down. My knee slams into the concrete and I feel the grit digging into my flesh.

Get up, damn it.

Shit, I’m so exposed here. Nothing but sheer adrenaline makes me sprint down the road until my lungs and legs burn. I reach town after a quarter of an hour, my lungs so tight that I can’t draw any more breath. Crippling nausea hits me and I retch on the side of the road.

I need a payphone, but I don’t have a dime on me. All I have is Johnny’s phone number because I carry that folded piece of paper everywhere I go.

And I have nowhere to go now. No wallet. No money. Nothing.

Calling him is the last thing I want to do. I wanted to be on my own for a little while, but now that my father’s gone psycho—

Pain clenches my heart and my chest shakes as I desperately draw in breath. I don’t know if Chuck is alive, but if he’s dead it’s my fault. I goaded my father, and all Chuck ever did was protect me. Hold my hand when we crossed the street. He wiped more than a few tears from my cheek.

Fuck no. I can’t think about this shit.

A glint of metal catches my attention, and I bend over to scrape the shiny coin from the pavement. Nickel. It pings on the street as I drop it and walk down the sidewalk of the industrial town built around the fortress. The houses here are all low income, or they were before they were abandoned to rot. Crumbling streets. I stub my toes on the uneven sidewalks and keep my eyes peeled for a fucking telephone booth, or a diner, or something. Then a see a grubby little sports bar, and it’s open. I stumble inside the dark room and my nostrils wrinkle at the faint smell of piss.

“Can I use your phone?”

The bartender takes one look at my disheveled appearance and shakes his wizened head.

“Non.”

I can’t believe this.

“It’s an emergency!”

“I don’t serve biker bitches. Va chier.” Go shit yourself.

I summon all the energy in my chest. “Maybe I’ll tell my father to come to this bar and shove that rifle up your ass.”

I see him angling toward the rifle behind his bar, and he freezes.

“His name is Carlos. Have you heard of him?”

The bartender relents. The threat of my father is too much for him to ignore. He grabs an ancient telephone and slams it on the counter.

“There. Mange d’la marde.”

Fuck you, too.

I pick the phone off the hook and dig into my jeans for Johnny’s card. It’s been folded so many times that I can barely make out the black text. It rings, and I release a shaky sigh.

“Johnny.”

“I-it’s me. I really need your help.”

Arrogance slides into his smooth voice. “You called a lot sooner than I thought.”

“I’m in deep shit.”

“What happened?”

“He found out—he knows. I barely managed to get out.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m in some shitty bar down the hill from the fortress.”

“I’m coming to get you. Don’t move.”

My nails dig into the plastic as I watch the door. “What if he finds me? He tried to kill me—”

“He what?”

Static crackles between us. My mouth opens, but I can’t force out a single word. Vivid images flash in front of my face. My mom—what’s going to happen to her?

“Just fucking stay put. I’m leaving now.”

As soon as the comfort of his voice fades to a dull dial tone, panic ramps up behind my chest. I walk deep inside the bar and then I consider just hiding in the bathroom stall to wait for him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

The dingy, shitty bathroom only has a cheap screw and a hook to look at, but it’s amazing how much safer I feel. Even though it’d only take one kick to blast open the door.

The light flickers on and I notice the gash on my knee, bleeding freely into my jeans. I reach out to grab a handful of paper towels, but the roll is empty. So is the toilet roll. Great.

There’s another line of blood on my hand, right where Dad’s bullet split my skin open.

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t have.

Bullshit, you know he meant it.

My mind buzzes with a strange numbness as I turn the faucet on. The icy water stings my hand, and fresh blood spills from the wound. I splash some on my knee, gritting my teeth as I clean the dirt away.

What just fucking happened to me? Did my father really try to blow my head open, or did I imagine all of that?

“Did you see a girl?”

Jesus Christ, I’m so lost in my own head that I didn’t hear anyone come into the bar. I know that fucking voice. My heart jumps into my throat as if I’ve been shoved to the edge of a cliff. I flatten myself against the wall as his heavy boots stomp through the bar.

I inhale my breath, knowing that any second now, he’s going to give me away.

“Non.”

“You better not be lying to me, asshole.”

The footsteps travel down the length of the bar, blood pulsing in my ears as his steps creak closer to me.

Don’t go in the bathroom.

“The president is looking for her.”

“She’s not in my fucking bar.”

I marvel at the bartender’s irritated voice and wonder why the fuck he’s protecting me. It’s probably just his hatred of the MC.

He knocks his fist against the bathroom door. “Hey. Open up.”

Oh fuck.

I look around for something in this shitty bathroom to use as a weapon, but it’s completely bare.

“I can hear you breathing. Don’t make me break down this door.”

Fuck off!

“Leave my fucking customers alone, damn it!”

“Shut up, old man.”

I inhale a sharp breath as another pair of footsteps walks into the bar. Is it him? Please, God, let it be him. A smooth voice makes my heart stop.

“Is there a problem here?”

I hear the biker’s leather squeak as he turns around. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You better watch your fucking tone when you’re talking to me.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m looking for the president’s daughter. She ran off.”

I bite my fist as Johnny speaks in a lilting tone. “Has she?” I can just see the smirk on his face.

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t give a shit, actually.”

“I think that girl is in that bathroom, waiting for you to pick her up.”

“Maybe. Maybe I need to take a piss, and you’re in the way. Maybe go fuck yourself.”

The bartender mutters a threat. “I’m calling the police.”

Johnny’s voice growls in response. “You do that and I’ll fuck you up.”

“When Carlos finds out you fucked his daughter—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can hear that little bitch in there!”

“I don’t hear jack shit, and you’re starting to piss me off.”

“This is no coincidence.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

The man’s tone wavers. “No.”

Johnny’s joking voice addresses the bartender. “I think he’s saying that I intentionally banged the president’s daughter.”

“Well—”

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before I kill you?”

Another beat of strained silence hangs, and I’m on the verge of shouting a useless warning.

“All right, Johnny, I’m sorry.”

Oh thank God.

The heavy boots scrape the floor and I hear his body push from the door. I sag against the wall in relief. Seconds later my heart slams against my chest as Johnny raps his knuckles on the door.

My hands shake as I unlatch the nail from the hook and the cheap door swings inward, revealing Johnny’s slim figure. He wears black slacks and a dark-green polo, which clings to his body in a way that makes blood rush to my skin’s surface. A heart-stopping smirk tugs at his mouth.

“Close shave, hon.” He steps inside the bathroom and his smile falls. “Jesus, look at you!”

I glance in the mirror as he grabs my face. His thumb gently caresses my neck, brushing over the angry marks where my father choked me. I hiss in pain and pull away.

“That hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice sounds calm, but I’m scared of the darkness brewing in his eyes when he pulls back.

“That piece of shit did this to you?”

That piece of shit is still the president of the Devils MC.

“What happened?”

I’m still racked with nerves, and I don’t want to look at Johnny’s hard-set jaw and tell him everything that happened. My right ear won’t work properly. The gunshot was so loud that listening to him talk is like hearing a voice through a soda can.

His brows knit together. “We’ll talk about it in the car. Let’s go.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

A warm hand slips into mine and I jump slightly, looking down at it. He frowns at me and walks. I follow him, strangely at ease. We pass by the bar and Johnny digs through his pockets.

The bartender shakes his head. “I don’t want it.”

Johnny slams a small stack of fifty-dollar bills. “Take it.”

“I don’t—”

“Just take it, old man,” he says in a slightly harassed voice, and the bartender shuts up.

I follow the pressure of Johnny’s hand into the sunlight. My head jerks up and down the street, looking for a hint of chrome, but I see nothing.

“Get inside, quick.”

I stoop down as Johnny opens the door for me, and then I collapse inside the black leather interior. The door slams shut as he effortlessly slides in next to me.

I am saved.

“Take me home, Chrissy.”

Then he slams the partition shut and for some reason blood rushes to my face when he gives me that concerned look.

“What the fuck happened up there?”

The cold voice feels like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head.

Chuck’s hand was reaching for me. He told me to run. And then my own father shot me.

I bury my face in my hands. If only I had just shut my mouth and kept my fucking thoughts to myself—made up some lie about why I went to Le Zinc—none of this would’ve happened.

“Maya, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Selfish prick.

“He knows I fucked someone who was at your restaurant. He doesn’t know who. Thanks for the fucking concern.”

His hand tenses next to mine and then it snakes over my shoulder. I feel it like stepping in a hot bath. He pulls me into his chest like a rag doll and his heart thumps against my back.

I can’t remember the last time I was held like this. Even though I know he’s just doing this to placate me, my skin heats like a furnace when his lips touch my cheek.

“What happened, Maya?”

“He—he shot Chuck. I don’t even know if he’s alive. Mom tried to protect me.”

Why am I so calm?

“They saw me going into your restaurant. He thought I was meeting with you to betray the MC or something.”

“Jesus.”

I look up and he irons his face with his hands. Hot, bubbling guilt surges inside me.

“It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

I have to make him understand the full brunt of my guilt. “I pissed him off on purpose. I was just—I wanted to hurt him. I said—”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. He did this to you.”

A finger brushes over the choke wounds on my throat.

It feels as though it was just another day at the MC. My dad guns down a man I actually respected, and I don’t even shed a tear. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“I can’t believe this shit.” His voice is breathless as he takes my hand, the one with the gash, and runs his thumb underneath the wound. Then his voice turns black. “If he was any other man, I would kill him. I would turn my car around right now, and gun him down in front of his wife.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a gritty voice. It’s hard to believe that the sound came from his chest. There’s no warmth in him, just cold rage.

“He’s still my—”

“He’s the president, and I owe him the courtesy of explaining what happened, but if he was anyone else he would be dead for touching my girl.”

I freeze in his arms as he presses his cool cheek to mine.

“I’m not your girl.”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re carrying my kid. That makes you mine.”

No, I don’t think so.

“I didn’t leave the MC to be possessed by another man.”

“So you didn’t get what you wanted. Too fucking bad.”

My heart flutters as his lips touch the side of my temple. I really hate how good it feels to be in his arms. I tilt my head to the side to avoid his touch even though I crave it.

“You’re just like my father. You don’t care about me. You just want to control me.”

“I saved your goddamn ass in that bar.”

“Only because I’m carrying your kid.”

His hands slip under my shirt and I gasp as his palm touches my stomach. Urgent lips touch the side of my head, making me burn as his hands glide over me. His hands make a mockery of my pride. They make my skin singe.

“You think that’s the only reason?”

He kisses my neck and it’s like being injected with Valium. I slump into his arms. I’m just so fucking tired of fighting all the time. It’d be nice to give in, for once. To let them win.

But I can’t.

“I think you’d be crazy to risk everything for pussy.”

“World-class pussy.”

I feel his smile tickling my flesh.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

His hands sweep over my body, sensual and rough at the same time. They curve over the hard bones of my ribs and then his fingers slide under my bra. A thin gasp cuts through the air and my heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings, instantly sent into overdrive. Warmth pulses between my legs and I close them, uncomfortably wet as he gropes my tits.

I should be pissed that the only reason he wants me around is because of how good the sex is, but how can I be surprised? We barely know each other and it was always supposed to be a one-time deal. One night became two nights plus that tryst at the doctor’s office, and here we fucking are.

He slides his hand over mine and grazes the wound. He hears my hiss of pain and glances at it.

“You should have never went back. You should have stayed when I told you to stay.”

I hate flinching from the anger in his voice. “I didn’t think he would find out so quickly.”

“I don’t care what you thought would happen. You should have listened to me.”

Arrogant prick.

“I don’t need to listen to you.” He cuts my voice off with a gale of laughter, and I shove his chest, pushing myself away from him. “I’ve spent my whole life under my dad’s thumb, and I don’t intend on becoming your little bitch.”

He gives me a wide grin, trying to stifle his chuckles. “Well, you can play that game with me, but you won’t win.”

“Try me.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby. It’s me or the streets.”

Ruthless eyes bore into mine and his smile freezes. “Believe me, Maya. You want me in your life.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re better off with me than without. You know that.” His hand drops heavily over my thighs. “I won’t let you go, anyway.”

My insides seethe at being told that I need a man. I don’t fucking need him. “I just need a place to stay for a week or two, and then I’m on my own.”

“I’m not letting you in unless you agree to get engaged.”

My jaw drops open. “Are you fucking serious?”

“My house, my rules.”

“I only need a place for a couple weeks!”

“Until what?”

“Until I get my credit cards and money from my bank.”

A strange look falls over Johnny’s face and his hand falls on the back of my neck. I’m so pissed off that I want to throw him off, but instead I revel in the feeling of his fingers slowly massaging my knots.

“Sweetie, he’s probably on his way to freeze your bank accounts.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “It’s what I would do.”

Shit. He’s probably right.

“C—can I use your phone?”

I just can’t believe that my father would use his connections to do something so petty. The pitying look creases his eyes, but he slips his hand down his slacks and hands me his heavy iPhone.

I call the bank of Montreal as Johnny watches me unsmilingly. His hand at the back of my neck soothes me as a clinical voice cracks on the speaker.

“Hi, I need to withdraw money from the bank, but I lost all my cards.”

I rattle off my personal information as she finds my account.

“I’m sorry, madame, but it appears that your bank account was emptied today.”

“What? Who gave the authorization? I never—”

“It looks like you had a joint account with your father. I’m sorry, but he withdrew all the money about one hour ago.”

Years of work, gone in an instant. My hopes and dreams, completely fucked. Ruined. Turned to shit.

“But he can’t—” I sob into the receiver and the banker’s voice softens.

“Do you want me to contact the authorities?”

I shake my head as a ball of fury builds up behind my eyes. “No.”

The banker murmurs something else into the phone, but I pull away and tap the red circle, ending the call. The screen fades to darkness, unlike the pressure in my head, which is close to the breaking point.

“It was a joint fucking account. I basically just handed him the money.”

He winces in sympathy.

“I fucking hate him.”

Johnny covers my shaking hand with his. “I hated my dad, too.”

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Suddenly the car grinds to a halt in front of Johnny’s high-rise, and my hands clench over my knees.

“You don’t have a choice.”

No, I never did. All the way back to my fucking birth, I never had a goddamn choice.

“I don’t see why we have to get married,” I say in a shaking voice.

“Number one: it’s the right thing to do. Two: it might just save this alliance of ours.”

The driver opens the door for us and Johnny gets out first, extending his hand to me. I ignore it and stand up, brushing the gesture aside. His hand finds mine as Chris drives away, and he pulls me against his chest, the grip biting.

“Don’t do that again.”

“What?”

Even though I know exactly what.

“Don’t be disrespectful toward me in front of others. I’m the boss.”

“You’re not my boss.”

Against his chest, I smell the fresh scent of his skin and that tantalizing male musk from his hair. His smile widens, reminding me of that predatory stare he gave me when we first met, when I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the night with.

“Why don’t you say that to me again when I get you upstairs?”

Energy shoots straight into my heart like a live wire. He grabs my elbow and leads me to the marble-floored foyer and into the elevator. All the while my heart hammers against my chest. As soon as the elevator doors close, he turns around, and I’m no match for his deadly smirk and the rippling muscles flexing his arms, which pin me against the wall. He’s so much stronger than he looks.

“The moment you step through that door into my apartment, you become my fiancée.”

A thrill runs through my heart as I look at the faint lines beside his eyes that wrinkle when he smiles. He’s so much older than me, and I don’t understand anything that’s going on in his head. He shouldn’t want this, but he does.

If I go in there, I’m never coming back out.

“I’m not ready.” I hate how high my voice sounds.

Johnny grasps my chin lightly and runs his thumb under my bottom lip.

“This isn’t about love, sweetheart. Love doesn’t exist for people like us.”

“Maybe not for you, but I intend to find it.”

“Not with me. Get those thoughts out of your head.”

Pitiless black eyes stare back at me. Just when I’m reeling from the sensations he gives me, he drives a spike through my heart.

“This is about what we both need to do.”

“You can’t want this.”

“I do.”

“You want to marry me?”

“If you’re going to have my kid, we need to be married.”

A growl of frustration rips from my throat. It’s like talking to a fucking robot. The elevator pings and the doors open, but Johnny doesn’t let me down from the wall.

“Time to make a choice.”

“C-can’t we wait for a few months?”

“No,” he snaps.

Just tell him yes. He can’t force you to do anything.

My head spinning, I give him a quick, affirmative jerk and he steps back, holding the door open with his arm. “Wise decision, Maya.”

“You forced me into this,” I spit as he brings me to his apartment.

There’s no remorse on his face. “I will do whatever it takes to keep this alliance from blowing up in my face.”

So it really has nothing to do with what’s best for the baby, does it? My insides seethe as he unlocks the door. I cross my arms and walk inside, heading straight for the living room as the door shuts.

I look around at the beautiful, spotless apartment and a cold shiver runs through my limbs. It’s a gilded cage, isn’t it? I sink into the couch without realizing it’s there.

Johnny moves swiftly in front of the couch and sits down next to me, reaching into his jacket for a small black box.

My heart jumps in my throat as he cradles it in his hand.

“It’s not exactly how I proposed to my last two wives.”

The breath I don’t even realize I’m holding in blows out. “What happened to your last two wives?”

“I killed them.” He turns his head, laughter on his face. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What happened?” I say in a firmer voice.

“What’s there to say? They didn’t work out.”

Yeah, I think I’m starting to understand why they didn’t.

I wonder what kinds of wives would cause this extremely traditional Mafioso bastard to divorce them.

“I think I have a right to know.”

His fingers close around the box and I almost flinch at the look in his eyes.

“Not now, Maya.”

I glare back at him, but he looks away, back at the black box. It pops open and a diamond splinters the light into a rainbow of fragments. He gently tugs it out of the box.

I’m amazed. The tiny band glitters with a thousand small diamonds. He takes my hand and slides the ring over my finger. It’s tight. My breathing quickens as though he’s wrapping a collar around my neck. And I can’t believe I’ve said yes to this man I barely know, this Italian guy who I just wanted a one-night stand with.

It’s a beautiful ring. It’s big and gaudy and expensive.

And it’s not me at all.

“This is too much.”

“You don’t like it? I can get another fucking ring.”

I don’t want another fucking ring.

I twist it off my finger and slap it back in his hand, and then I stand up from the couch.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ll take my chances at the women’s shelter.”

An extremely shocked look crosses over his face, which quickly darkens. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He’s too cold—too brutal, and just not enough.

“I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.”

Then I walk toward the door, my head completely clear. I’d rather live in poverty than marry a man who doesn’t give a fuck about me. Hell, we don’t give a fuck about each other.

My body snaps backward and spins around as he grabs my upper arms.

“Let me go!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“You need me more than I need you!”

He shoves me against the wall, his face red as he yells at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t give a fuck about me. All you care about is your fucking family.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. My head’s a bit preoccupied with knocking up the daughter of the most powerful biker gang leader.”

“So I’ll just leave town. He will never find out and we won’t have to get married.”

“There’s no fucking way I’d let you leave town.”

“Actually, I think it’s a free country—”

I shove his chest, and scream in outrage when he pins me back against the wall effortlessly. His face splits with a wide smile as he laughs at my anger.

“Maya, I want this baby. I really do.”

“Have a fucking kid with someone else!”

“I tried, and they didn’t work out. You will.”

“Well, you have shitty judgment because I can’t stand you.”

I hold my breath in as my cheeks slowly burn, immediately regretting those words, but Johnny merely shrugs, looking unconcerned.

“You can’t stand me, huh?”

The hands holding my wrists to the wall become sensual.

Oh no.

They glide over my skin, giving me goose bumps as Johnny’s hips dig into mine. His lips just brush my cheek.

“You must hate my fucking guts.”

I feel the outline of his cock, slowly starting to harden against my thigh. I clench my thighs together and feel the wetness gathering between him.

“Y-yeah.”

Damn it.

It’s as though he flipped a switch that makes my skin hypersensitive. His hand glides up my neck and grasps my face, so that I’m staring right into his shit-eating grin.

I wasn’t lying. I can’t fucking stand him.

“Asshole.”

“Biker bitch.”

He crushes his lips against mine and every last thread of resistance snaps. He weaves his fingers through my hair and yanks hard so that I moan in pain. This man is not fucking capable of being gentle, but that’s fine.

I like it when he’s rough.

Fingers claw at my dirty clothes, ripping them from my head. He’s like a fucking animal—the way he treats my body. So rough and violent, but that’s probably all he knows. My bra straps dig into my shoulders as he yanks hard and then hurls the bra away from him, the cold air stinging my nipples. His mouth finds my shoulder and he utters a subhuman growl, biting a vicious mark into my skin. Jesus. It burns, and then he releases me, kissing the next spot. He reaches my neck and I cringe, but there he proves that he can be gentle. Featherlight kisses touch the sore skin, but he grabs my jaw and lays his lips on my mouth, cruelly devouring them.

My back hits the door of his bedroom and it slams open, banging against the wall. We’re not even in bed, and I’m already soaking my panties. It’s the way he treats me, like I’m his addiction and he can’t help but lose himself around me.

Fuck me, you bastard.

He grabs my hand and forces it over the hard rock between his legs. I wrap my fingers around his cock as he hovers an inch from my face.

“You’re going to make my cock your full-time job from now on.”

Laughter bursts from my mouth as he stands back. Is he a parody or what?

“What did I tell you about laughing?”

“You said you’d kick me out, but we both know that won’t happen.”

He beckons with a finger. “Come here.”

I roll my eyes and follow him as he drags an enormous box out of his closet. He crouches over it, blocking the contents from view as he takes this and that, shutting the box before I can catch a glimpse. He walks to the door first, and then he reaches up to the frame and slips some kind of material behind it. It shuts and two straps hang from the top. Then he walks back to me and picks up the Velcro handcuffs from the floor.

Fuck. I see where this is going.

“Give me your wrists.”

The grittiness in his voice strikes a chord deep inside my body. Warmth floods to my skin as I give him my hands, and I feel as though I’m handing over my freedom at the same time. He wraps the Velcro straps over my wrists, his eyes flaying me alive as he tightens them with deliberate slowness.

Then he slides his hands down my waist and the throbbing ache between my legs pounds like a heartbeat.

“You’re going to have to learn to obey your future husband.”

The smile playing on his lips makes me wonder if he’s fucking with me, but the more I get to know him and his bullshit adherence to tradition, the more I suspect he’s serious. Is there any harm in letting him think that he owns me?

“I am.”

“You’re not. You’re just doing what I say because you want my fat cock inside you.”

Yeah.

He takes my wrists and pushes me backward, until my back hits the door. Then he takes each wrist and anchors them securely to the hooks hanging from the top of the doorframe. They pull at my wrists, my arms stretched high above my head as Johnny trails his fingers down my neck and around my tits, his thumb playing with my hardened nipples.

Holy fuck he feels amazing. Just a light graze of his fingers around that sensitive skin makes the air thinner. His body is inches from mine, the heat blazing but out of reach. I want his naked skin pressed against mine, but he lets me smolder. A smirk staggers over his face when I inhale a sharp breath as he takes my tits in his hands and squeezes.

“I’m taking in what belongs to me. You have no idea how sexy you look like this.”

Then he unbuttons my jeans, leaning in close enough to plant a chaste kiss on my shoulder. I want more of him. The zipper makes a mouthwatering sound, and then his hands slide underneath my jeans and panties with ease, following them all the way down my thighs and calves. The cool air hits my wet pussy as I step out of my clothes, and a blush creeps up my neck as Johnny stands back up, looking me up and down.

“Your pussy seems to know who it belongs to already.” He lets out a chuckle that makes me steam. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

I know I am. I feel it running down my legs.

“Just because I want you to fuck me doesn’t mean you own me.”

A warm finger slides into my pussy and hooks into me. My heart slams hard against my chest as my walls constrict around his finger. Johnny approaches me with a shit-eating grin, digging his finger deeper.

“I bet I can get you to tell me that I own your body within the next fifteen minutes.”

A second finger slides into me as Johnny bends his head, his tongue darting out to catch my nipple at the same time. His fingers pulse inside my aching pussy as his mouth closes around my nipple and sucks hard. Oh God.

I moan into the simmering air and I’m already halfway to saying whatever the hell he wants, so long as he fucks me.

Then a third squeezes in, stretching my walls as he takes my tits in his cavernous mouth, sucking and licking. He bites down and sucks—leaving marks everywhere just to prove that I’m his fucking property. I don’t fucking care because it feels so damn good. He turns me around, fingers still inside me, so that my arms crisscross. His palm strokes one of my ass cheeks.

I know what’s coming.

SMACK!

At the same time, he pumps his fingers inside me so that sharp blows of pain punctuate the ecstasy. I arch my back, my chest against the door. The burn spreads across both cheeks and he curves his fingers into me until my breathing is high-pitched, until I am on the cusp of an orgasm.

Then he slides his fingers out.

He slides them out.

“What are you doing?”

Another harsh slap makes me end the sentence in a yelp.

“Don’t fucking talk. Just obey.”

Yeah, whatever.

He turns me back around and holds his fingers in front of my face.

“Open your mouth and suck every last drop.”

I shouldn’t want to. It’s dirty. It’s wrong, but Johnny makes me want everything that I thought was demeaning. His fingers slide inside my mouth and I suck myself from his fingers. Shame burns my cheeks.

“Good girl.”

He slides out of my mouth and my heart jumps at the smile on his face. “Please, Johnny. I want you now.”

“It’s so much fun seeing you worked up like this, begging for my cock.”

Suddenly his hand burrows in my hair painfully and he yanks my head to the side, crushing his lips against mine and forcing his tongue through. He tastes me and pulls back, sucking my lips.

A growl rumbles from the back of his throat as he wraps his arms around my legs and hoists me up so that my legs straddle his waist, where I can see the thick bump of his cock.

“Do you honestly think you’d ever find someone you’d want more than me? Who can fuck you better than I can?”

Christ, I don’t know. I grew up in the fortress, dreaming of a life outside. I must have watched Cinderella a million times, wishing I could have my own Prince Charming to whisk me away from that hellhole. I never would have thought I would’ve ended up with a man not so different from the ones I grew up around. Johnny’s gorgeous. He makes my heart flutter with his slick smile, but he’s such an asshole. He’s no Prince Charming, that’s for sure.

I never thought a man like him would make me feel so good, especially one who likes ordering me around. No, I don’t think I’d ever find someone so disarming—someone who makes me wet with his very presence. I rebelled against men like him all my life. How the fuck did this happen to me?

“No.”

His smirk disappears for a moment as he lets me down and takes the shirt off his back, revealing a map of tattooed, lean muscle. There’s a flag of Sicily, St. Joseph on his shoulder, and a bunch of other religious shit I don’t recognize, and a cross with the word Sempre around it. Red, white, and green. He’s a proud Italian, through and through.

My eyes linger on the huge bump right under his waist, straining against his slacks, but he makes no move to pull them down. I can visualize it in my head, see the fabric pulling down his waist and over that thick cock, beading with a gossamer strand of pre-cum.

“Please.”

“Fuck.”

I can see the fight behind his eyes as he reaches out and touches my breast. He wants me to grovel at his feet, but he wants to fuck me more than that.

I own you.

Still smiling, he bends toward the floor and picks up something metallic with a long wire and a clicker attached to the end. He puts the round metal object against my pussy and clicks.

A buzzing sound fills my ears as the metal egg vibrates against my clit, sending electrical shocks deep inside my pussy. Holy Christ, I’ve never felt anything like this.

“Oh—oh my God!”

“I’m not a god,” he grins.

It’s torture to feel that hard egg buzzing against my clit, slipping slightly as he massages me. His tongue drags a circle around my nipples and the shocks make me arch my back into him.

“Please, for fuck’s sake!”

I thrash in the handcuffs he has me in, but his arm wraps around my waist, holding me still. “Say that you’ll marry me.”

Jesus.

The egg pushes through my folds and slips inside. His fingers curve on the back of it as he shoves it in deep, massaging my clit against the vibrating waves. I can’t fucking hold out much longer. With every throb of my heartbeat, I imagine his dick shoved inside me, rutting me hard.

“Say it.”

I don’t have a choice.

“Fine.”

“No, that’s not fine. I want to hear you—”

“Yes, I’ll fucking marry you!”

Like I have a goddamn choice at this point, pinned against the wall with a vibrator jammed against my pussy. God, I can’t stand him.

His thumb pinches my clit and the vibrator electrifies me at the same time, sending me careening over the edge.

“JUST FUCK ME!”

My legs tremble as he finally throws the vibrator aside and pulls his pants down, releasing his cock. I barely get a look at his throbbing length before he picks me up. The head slides inside me swiftly, painful and deep. It knocks the breath out of my chest as he slams his hips against me.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

He shoves his cock balls deep. It’s buried to the hilt and I can barely breathe with him pulsing inside me, my legs wrapped around his waist. I don’t find that I give a shit about admitting that yes, I’m his, especially when he’s looking right into my eyes as he’s inside me.

“I’m yours.”

Then he pounds my hips, his cock thrusting inside me, filling me completely as I twist my wrists in the straps. He bites down on my tits and I scream to the ceiling, unable to take the stimulation from his dick and his mouth. I got so worked up from that vibrator that I feel myself teetering on the edge, and I want to hold on to his shoulders and ride his cock.

“Moan for me.”

I clutch the straps yanking on my wrists as he slams into me. His left hand lets me go briefly to get in a vicious slap on my ass. My legs tighten and I squeeze, my tits rubbing against his face.

“Johnny!”

I moan out his name as I come all over his dick, and he sucks in his breath and pounds me faster, yanking my waist into his. Then he buries his face in my neck and groans out loud, releasing a torrent of cum inside my pussy. Holy fuck, it’s so warm. His chest pulses rapidly as he blows air across my neck, kissing my skin between breaths. I sag against my restraints as he slowly lets me down and unhooks my handcuffs from the straps on the door, and I wrap both arms around him as he lifts me up and carries me to bed.

We both collapse on the mattress, exhausted, my body still glowing with the orgasm. He gathers me in his arms and drags me into his chest with surprising strength, as if I’m a rag doll.

“I told you I’d get you to say it.”

I’m too tired to muster up the energy to hate him.

Johnny’s warmth leaves my side for a second, and when he returns he slides his arms back around me. I feel safe, just content to close my eyes and feel his heartbeat against my back, his low voice rumbling through my body.

Then he takes my hand and I see the diamond ring between his fingertips. I bite my lip as he slides it down my finger, the glow bursting like a needle to a balloon.

He wants me for sex, nothing else. Or his pride. That wouldn’t be too bad, except for the fact that I have a baby inside me. I’m supposed to marry this guy and have his kid, even though I barely know him. I’m not sure I even like him. He’s a mob boss, for fuck’s sake.

I turn around in his arms, cradling my hand with the new ring. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen his bad side, but I’m just not scared of him.

“What is this between us?”

“You’re my fiancée.”

His voice sounds so dead and I feel as though I’m shrinking. There’s no connection between us, is there?

What makes you think that he’ll even be a good father?

My chest freezes as he plants a kiss on my stunned face, rubbing my back as if to soothe me. He’s very good at imitating acts of affection, but without the warmth it feels so empty. There’s passion in his eyes, but it’s not for me—it’s for the baby.

“I don’t know you.”

He makes a sound through his nose and sinks into the pillow. “You never get to know someone.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everybody has something to hide.” A dark shadow crosses his eyes like a storm. “Like you.”

“Like me?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t tell me you were his daughter. You could have if you wanted to, but you didn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t have fucked me.”

“Wrong.”

Strong hands reach around my head and pull me closer so that his breath billows over my lips.

“I was fucked the moment I saw you. Nothing in the world would have stopped me from chasing you.”

It’s the perfect thing to say, even if it’s a lie.

His lips fall against mine, softer than they’ve ever felt before, and then I’m not so sure.

I don’t care. I need to be able to hope.