I’ve been Enzo’s hostage-not-hostage for nearly a week now, and the confinement is finally starting to drive me a little stir-crazy. Enzo had to “handle something” today, which means I’m left with Jess, Enzo’s brothers, Chase, and Luke. For once, Luke isn’t watching a movie. He has his feet kicked up on the couch while he plays some kind of game on his phone. Chase is sketching again, and every time I look in his direction, it seems like I catch him watching me.

Gino and Angelo are playing cards while Jess and I snack on leftovers from Enzo’s fridge.

I had my first real bout of morning sickness today, and it irritated me that Enzo wasn’t here to suffer through it with me. It’s a selfish thought, but I’ll blame pregnancy hormones on it. I wish I could blame baby brain on all the other conflicting emotions I feel, but I know I can’t.

The problem with Enzo is that the answers are so simple. Is he an amazing guy who I could see making a great father? Yes. Is he involved in something so dangerous that no one in their right mind should ever consider getting into a relationship with him? Yes.

The protective mother in me says I need to get our baby as far away from his world as I can, as soon as I can. That once he gives me some sort of “all-clear” signal, we should just disappear. But I’d also be ripping my baby away from his father, and whether Enzo made bad choices in his past or not, the thought of taking his baby away from him seems wrong on so many levels. I feel like he deserves to be a father. He deserves to be happy.

I’m being torn between too many choices, and none of them are entirely right. So instead of making a decision, I’m stuck in a sort of moral limbo, waiting for something to happen that opens up the clear and obvious path to take.

One aspect that makes it harder to imagine leaving is that I’d be leaving behind this strange, oddly comfortable family of friends Enzo has. Luke, despite his occasional leers and strange hobbies, is funny when he tries. He has the kind of humor that sneaks up out of nowhere. He might go hours and hours without so much as cracking a smile, then he’ll mutter two words that have everyone bent over laughing.

Chase is a necessary voice of reason in the group. Most of the men lean toward rash decisions with little thought for consequence, but Chase is always ready to calm everyone down and try to keep fights from happening.

Gino is the youngest of Enzo’s two brothers, and he’s easily the most easy-going of the three. He’s often wearing a sarcastic smile and ready with a joke, but there’s something in all the brother’s eyes that seems to haunt them—some past tragedy they all share. Gino’s easy smile falters at unexpected times, belying a deep pain in his eyes that he obviously tries to hide.

Angelo is stern and rigid. He’s very much like Enzo, but Enzo seems to have a cooler temper. Angelo holds a more reckless kind of intensity that always seems just an inch away from exploding.

Despite all their flaws, they have all already started to feel like family of sorts, and I know if I end up deciding that leaving is the best thing for my baby, I’ll miss them almost as much as Enzo.

“Did Enzo say what he was taking care of?” I ask. I try to sound nonchalant, but I know I’m asking a sensitive question. There’s some kind of unspoken rule that if Enzo doesn’t spell something out explicitly, we’re not supposed to ask.

Gino quirks an eyebrow at me over his hand of cards. “Probably taking a shit.”

I give him a dry look. “For six hours?”

“Did you see how much pasta he ate last night? That’ll back you up. Trust me.”

“Charming,” Angelo says in a low, unamused voice. He lays his cards down for Gino to see and scoops up the pile of dollar bills they are playing with. Gino glares down at the cards and curses under his breath.

“You done giving me all your money yet?” Angelo asks.

“No. Well, technically, yes. That was all my money. But if you just let me borrow some of that pile, I’ll be happy to win it back.”

“You borrowed everything in this pile from me in the first place.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” he asks.

Angelo shakes his head in disbelief before tossing a handful of money back to Gino, who nods with satisfaction.

“He’s not doing something dangerous though, right?” I ask, knowing I’m being too persistent for my own good, but I can’t seem to stop myself. He hasn’t left me alone for this long since he brought me back here, and having no real idea of what’s going on out there has me on edge. What if he’s hurt?

“Depends,” Gino says. “If he took a laxative, that’ll minimize the risk. We should also hope he’s not using a public restroom, or else there’s a risk of catching God-knows-what from the toilet seat.”

I glare at Gino. “I’m being serious.”

Gino purses his lips and gives me a look like he’s realizing he can’t just joke his way out of this one. “He’ll be fine,” he says more seriously.

“Enzo knows how to handle himself,” agrees Angelo.

“Is that why they call him The Beast?” I ask.

Angelo looks up from his cards, watching me a few seconds before looking back down. “He can tell you that story if he wants to. It’s not our place to talk about.”

I leave the Luciani brothers to finish their card game. Jess follows me back to our room, which we’ve had to share since coming here. Enzo invited me to stay in his room after our night together on the fourth floor, but I couldn’t make myself agree to it. Everything felt so simple and right in the moment, but I’m worried that if I let myself get too close to him too fast, I’ll be too blinded by my growing feelings toward Enzo, and I won’t make the right decision for our baby.

Jess fans herself with her hand and waggles her eyebrows at me once we’re back in my room. “Angelo, Angelo, Angelo,” she muses.

I snort. “Weren’t you the one trying to talk me out of agreeing to come here in the first place? What was it you said? ‘He’s a bad guy and he’s involved in bad things. It doesn’t matter how hot he is.’”

She glares. “Maybe that’s true for Enzo, but Angelo isn’t as bad as him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? How do you know?”

“At least Angelo doesn’t go around having people call him The Beast. I mean, come on? What do you have to do to get a nickname like that?”

I shrug, trying not to let it show how much I’ve already labored over that question. “Whatever he did in the past, Enzo seems like he’s level-headed now. I mean, none of these guys seem like cold-blooded killers. It’s like I have to keep reminding myself they’re supposed to be the bad guys.”

“Well, Jesus forgives but the law doesn’t.”

I blurt out a laugh. “Very pious of you.”

She smirks. “I’m just saying. If you are seriously considering letting him be a part of your life, you need to be sure you’re ready for the possibility that he could go to jail for the things he has done.”

I cross my arms and sit on the edge of the bed. “You realize everything your saying could apply to Angelo too, right?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not supposed to be the smart sister. Doctor.”

I roll my eyes. “You could’ve done whatever you wanted. So don’t pretend you get to go chasing after the bad boy just because you didn’t feel like staying in school four more years.”

“You know, I wouldn’t exactly call it a chase if he’s not running from me.”

“Wow. Are you sure you’re not pregnant, too? Because that sounded an awful lot like a mom joke.”

She taps a finger to her lips. “Not yet. Got any pointers?”

I throw my pillow at her. She dodges it, but not the sandal I throw a few seconds later.

I was already asleep when Enzo finally came home. He woke me with a hand to my shoulder and a finger to his lips.

I sucked in a surprised breath, but managed to keep from waking Jess, who slept beside me.

Chase was asleep on the couch when I followed Enzo to out of my room.

“What’s going on?” I ask sleepily.

“We’re going for a walk.”

I glance out the window. “It’s pitch black out there,” I say slowly.

“Good. Then we don’t have to worry about the wrong people noticing you.”

He pulls my arm, leading me out the door and through the club, which—amazingly—is still active even though it must be in the extremely early hours of the morning. He holds me close to his side, partially concealing my face by hugging me tightly to his body. I happily take the excuse of needing to keep a low profile and enjoy how it feels having his arm wrapped protectively around me.

Outside, he lets his grip on me relax a little, but still holds me to his side as we walk away from the club.

“Sorry,” he says after a while. “I keep thinking about you cooped up in there. I’ve been meaning to find a time to get you out, but shit has been crazy.”

“Do I get to know any details?” I ask.

He gives me a hard, but regretful look. “Not yet. Soon, though. I have a plan, but it’s going to take a little more time. There are some details to work out.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But it’s our best shot, and we’re in a dangerous situation, so there’s not much more we could hope for.”

I nod, letting a comfortable silence blanket us while we walk toward the park that stretches along the river downtown. It’s a warm night, but I find myself not wanting Enzo to let me go.

We stop by a railing that overlooks the river. It reminds me of the night I first met him. I was standing in front of the same river, watching the way the water broke up the reflections of the skyline. I could’ve never guessed how far things would go between us back then.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

I smile to myself. I like that about him. No matter how hard he might seem or scary on the outside, he’s thoughtful. He thinks about me all the time, and he often wants to know what’s on my mind, even though I’d have expected a guy who looks like him to be self-absorbed.

“That first night,” I say. I laugh a little. “I was so nervous. I thought I was going to pee myself.”

He smirks. “It would’ve taken more than that to keep me away.”

“Somehow I don’t think you would’ve been as interested in getting me into the manager’s office if I was covered in pee.”

“Maybe, but it would’ve been a good excuse to get you into the shower.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I say.

“Then why are you trying so hard to resist me?”

His question takes my breath away from sheer surprise. Ever since our night together in the club, he hasn’t pushed things between us. He hasn’t tried to pressure me to sleep with him or pushed commitment on me. He’s just remained close and protective, making sure I know he’s here if and when I decide I’m ready to take things farther, but giving me the space and time to make the step on my own. After nearly a week of silence, the question comes as a shock.

“I’m not sure.”

“Be truthful with me,” he says.

“When I was a kid, I always wanted one of those motorized scooters.” I give him a wry look when he grins at that, but continue anyway. “I saw this girl I knew from school riding one and convinced myself I had to have it. I knew my dad wouldn’t buy it for me, because money was always tight back then, so I worked odd jobs for months. Mowing yards, babysitting, whatever I could find. Eventually, I had enough, so I tried to convince my dad to let me buy one.”

“He didn’t let you?”

“Well, that wasn’t my dad’s style. He always wanted us to learn lessons for ourselves, even if it was a painful lesson. So all he told me was that those scooters were dangerous. He asked me to think about what I stood to gain from getting one, and decide if it was really worth it to me.”

“What’d you do?”

I feel my heart thump for Enzo just a little heavier in that moment. He’s watching me speak so carefully, eyes intent on me like I’m the most interesting thing in the world. I’m fairly sure that he would listen to me this carefully even if I was just talking about a dream I had the night before or gossiping about my friends.

“I ignored him, like the dumb middle schooler I was. It was only two weeks until I had a really bad crash. I didn’t see a car coming until the last minute and had to swerve off the road. My scooter caught the curb and sent me flying. I ended up breaking my wrist, along with a bad case of road rash.”

Enzo nods slowly, seeming to understand my point without me needing to spell it out. “You’re worried I’m the scooter?”

I laugh softly. “Yeah. My super sexy scooter that got me pregnant, at least.”

He chuckles. “I want to make you all kinds of promises.” He rests his forearms on the railing and looks out over the water, shaking his head slightly. “I want to promise nothing bad will ever happen because of my past, or that being with me won’t put you in any kind of danger, but I can’t promise any of that. Truth is, the only thing stopping me from trying everything in my power to make sure you’ll always be mine is knowing I might not be what’s best for you.”

I watch him carefully. Even though he’s saying exactly what I’ve been thinking, it feels different when it comes from his perspective. He knows he’s carrying the baggage of his past, and the sorrow he feels for that is evident in his voice. I don’t know if that should change anything, but it feels like it does.

“There’s no way to leave it all behind? Start over new somewhere?”

He grips the railing tightly, eyes hardening. “I’m not running from him. As long as my dad has orders out to bring you in, I’m going to do everything in my power to stop that from happening. Running won’t fix it, it’ll just drag things out and make us complacent. We’ll let our guard down months or years from now, and then they’ll come for us. I can’t risk that.”

“What would they do if they got me?” I ask, dreading the answer.

He clenches his teeth, jaw flexing, but doesn’t appear to want to answer.

“You asked me to be truthful. I can handle the truth, too. It’s also my life and our baby’s on the line.”

He breathes out a long sigh. “If they managed to take you in, my father would want to make an example of you. He thinks letting you go was a blow to his reputation, and there’s nothing he cares about more than his reputation. Nothing. That’s why he’s willing to sacrifice me and my brothers if he has to.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He looks up, surprised. “For what?”

I give him a look, like it should be obvious. “Your father. He sounds so… cold.”

“Oh, I don’t think about it. The real shame is the rift it drove between us and our mother. She was always good to me and my brothers, but when I started moving the family in a different direction, it opened up a rift between us. He used it to keep us away from mom.” Enzo’s lips pull into a sour expression. “She’s good, but she’s traditional, like him. A good Italian wife. She’s loyal to her husband above all else, even if she doesn’t agree with him.”

I don’t know what to say, so I lean my head against his shoulder and put my arm around his back. “Why can’t there just be an easy answer to all of this?”

We spend a long time watching the water together. Occasionally, one of us brings something up, but we mostly stand together in a comfortable kind of silence until Enzo sighs and says we should be heading back.

I stop him before we leave the park, overcome by a reckless need to stay with him just a little longer before we go back. “Enzo,” I say.

He turns, looking down at me.

I pull at my fingers self-consciously, trying to find the right way to say what I’m trying to say. “I just wanted to say I liked it,” I say finally.

“This?” he asks, gesturing to the park. “Yeah, I liked it too.”

“No,” I say, “I mean, yes. I liked this. But I liked what we did at the club,” I add in a whisper, as if it’s too embarrassing to admit in a normal tone.

I don’t know what I expected to come of my admission, but I did not expect the almost primitive look that comes into his face, like I just unknowingly opened the cage holding back some kind of wild beast. He takes me by the arm and drags me back toward the park, past a few people who are out for their morning runs—which makes sense, considering the horizon is already turning a dull pink color from the soon-to-be-rising sun.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me. He only increases his pace, taking me deeper into the park until we reach a thick patch of trees surrounded by jogging trails on both sides. He yanks me off the path and into the trees.

“Last time you dragged me off like this, you were kidnapping me. Should I be worried?”

He turns to glare at me. “Only if you weren’t planning on taking a shower when we got back.”

“W-what?”

He answers my question by pinning my back to a tree and pressing my wrists together above my head, bending his neck so he can kiss mine hungrily.

“Oh, because—” I start, but he silences me when his mouth finds mine, turning the rest of my sentence into a surprised but satisfied moan.

I can feel his erection hard against my stomach. He pulls my shirt up in a single, rough movement, letting it drop to the grass at our feet. I hold my hands against the rough bark of the tree over my head, presenting myself to him while my mind plays catch up.

He cups both of my breasts in his large hands, pressing his mouth between them and kissing them reverently.

“Is this a good idea?” I ask. It’s a flimsy question, and both of us know it, but he pauses long enough to meet my eyes.

“If it isn’t, we can worry about it later.”

I give him the faintest nod, and he strips his shirt and jacket off, dropping them to the ground as well. I take in his heavily tattooed body and well-muscled frame. I drop one of my hands from the tree above to help him get my bra free, and then I pull him closer to me by his belt, forcing him to grind his erection into me as the bark scrapes against my back.

“Wait,” I say quickly. “I think I hear someone.”

“Fuck them,” he growls, kneeling to rip my jeans and panties down in a single yank.

“I was hoping to fuck you,” I say with a smirk.

He grips the side of my face and gives me a hint of a smile before kissing me again and letting me undo his belt and then his pants. I pull them down and he steps out of them, lifting my legs by the back of my thighs until he’s able to guide his cock inside me.

“I thought you needed submission,” I say, digging my fingers into his back as he works his length into me, inch by inch.

“I’m no dom,” he says in my ear. “All I need is your moans and your fucking pussy choking the life out of my cock.” He punctuates his words with thrusts, driving himself into me and drawing gasping breaths from me.

I try not to moan too loud, because I can hear the occasional scuff of a runner passing by just a little distance away on one of the running paths. The sun is starting to rise now, too, and I’m fairly sure if anyone was looking closely enough from the paths, they’d be able to see us up against this tree, humping like rabbits.

I bite my lip at the thought, embracing the slight fear and the sting of the bark against my back, letting it serve as a contrast to the pure white bliss of pleasure between my legs as he ruts into me like an animal.

“That’s a shame,” I say, voice coming raggedly now. “Because I liked submitting to you.”

He pulls away just enough for me to see the hunger in his eyes. “Then get on your knees and suck my cock.”

The suddenness of his command and the iron in his voice compels me to act as surely as a whip. I fall to my knees, ignoring the dead branches breaking beneath my knees. I grip the base of his cock, barely able to encircle it with my fingers, and take him into my mouth. I can taste my arousal on him, and the dirtiness of it all drives me to plunge my hand between my legs and start rubbing myself as I stroke his cock and suck him off.

I would never admit this to him, but my experience with blowjobs is very limited, but if the way his head is thrown back and his hands are fisted in my hair is any indication, I must be doing okay.

I take in as much of him as I can until I gag a little. I’m embarrassed by the sound it brings out of me at first, but he tenses up at it, breathing even heavier. Driven by my desire to do a good job and please him, I try again, forcing a little more of him into my mouth before my gag reflex kicks in.

“So fucking good,” he groans.

I keep trying, working my hand along his shaft in the same pace my fingers move between my legs, moaning around his length as I suck on him and lick all along his length. I eventually get almost half of him down my throat when I find a kind of mental trick to keep the gag reflex down to nothing but a little spasm in my throat without the undignified gulping sound or discomfort. I do it again and again, taking him as deep as I dare and letting my throat clench around him.

“I’m going to cum,” he says, starting to pull himself free of my mouth—probably assuming I won’t want to swallow, but I grip his ass, holding him tight and keeping his cock in my mouth as he roars loud enough to let the entire park know what’s happening. His cock swells slightly, then twitches with each burst of hot cum that fills my mouth.

I make sure I meet his eye when I swallow it down. I grin up at the shocked and aroused expression on his face before I wipe at the corner of my mouth with my thumb, sucking it dry.