Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 11

“No. No. No. Please!” I try to open the oven, but it’s too hot. Flames are pouring out of it, and thick gray smoke billows into the air. The smoke becomes a cloud above me, reminding me of a stormy day. Tears from the heat roll down my face, and I run to the door, opening it so the smoke can get free.

I hear sirens in the distance, and I know they are coming here.

While the smoke airs out, I run to grab the fire extinguisher. I’m so thankful the kids are at daycare and don’t have to see this right now. I don’t think I’d be able to keep a clear head if they were around.

I hold the black nozzle in my hand and press, the foam hitting the fire and immediately putting it out.

It’s impossible to breathe because of the smoke.

“Camilla? Camilla!” Taylor coughs as he hurries through the smoke. “Are you okay?” he cups my face, and something about him touching me so intimately has me leaning back. I cough to cover myself, and he wraps an arm around me as he guides me outside.

The firetruck pulls up at the same time a gorgeous Mercedes comes to a stop. The tires squeal, and the scent of burned rubber hangs in the air.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Taylor asks, but I don’t care about answering him.

My focus is on the firefighters running into my bakery.

“Camilla! Camilla, Jesus Christ, let me look at you.” Luca stands in front of me and checks me for any injuries, pulling me away from Taylor.

Luca’s hands frame each side of my neck, and I tilt my head up so I’m forced to look at him.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Another round of coughing hits me.

“I need a paramedic!” he yells. “Get me a fucking medic!”

“I’m fine, Luca. It’s nothing. I wasn’t in the store long.”

“I don’t care if you inhaled smoke for less than a second; you’re getting oxygen.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine one more time,” he growls in a warning, and those blue eyes I adored so much when I first met him become stark, piercing me with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

I stay quiet because I’m not in the mood for arguing, and he lifts me into his arms, rushing me to the ambulance before the paramedic can even grab his bag.

“She’s coughing,” Taylor says from beside me, but Luca ignores him and pushes him out of the way.

I feel like I’m in the middle of a pissing contest.

“She’s inhaled some smoke. She’s out of breath.” Luca places me on the edge of the ambulance just as the paramedic opens the doors. His hand remains on my back, and he rubs the place between my shoulder blades. It feels good, and I relax as the paramedic takes my vitals. He checks my throat and nose for any smoke inhalation, but then he doesn’t say a word which makes me worry.

Luca instantly picks up on my mood shift. I don’t know if it’s because I look up at him, but he grips the paramedic’s arm and jerks him forward.

“What the hell does that look mean? I suggest you start talking.”

“Mr. Bianco,” the paramedic rushes to say his name, but how the hell does everyone know Luca? I know he’s Mr. Big Shot now and the only mafia lead in the city now that my father is dead, but just how many jars does he have his hands in? “It means nothing, Mr. Bianco. With my job, I’ve learned to school my features. She’s fine, Mr. Bianco. She’s fine.” His voice cracks and becomes high-pitched as if he had just hit puberty, and I turn my head to snicker.

“Fine? Or is she healthy and safe? Fine, doesn’t work for me. Fine is neutral. I do not like neutral.” Luca’s eyes fall on the man’s nametag. “Jason. So tell me, is she great? Healthy? Do I need to worry about her not breathing in the middle of the night?”

Jason shakes his head as he puts an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose.

Oh, that feels good.

I inhale deeply, getting as much of it as I can, then relax.

“She’s healthy, Mr. Bianco. I want her to sit here for ten minutes with oxygen. You won’t have to worry. She wasn’t inhaling smoke for a long period of time, so she’s more than okay, Mr. Bianco.”

“Good,” Luca grunts, taking a seat next to me. His hand slides up my back, then curls over my left shoulder to hold onto it.

“Do you need anything?” Taylor asks, squatting on the pavement as he looks up at me. He pats my knee. “I can help you with anything. If you need help cleaning, restoring, anything at all—”

“—She’s fine. She won’t be needing your help,” Luca cuts him off.

I turn to look at him and remove the mask from my face, which has him sliding it back over my mouth.

I slap his hand away and grumble. “That was rude, Luca. Taylor is my friend. He’s only trying to help.”

“I know, and like I said—” Luca removes his hand from my shoulder, and I suddenly feel cold, even though I’m still sweating from the fire “—We don’t need his help.”

“I didn’t realize there was a ‘we,’” Taylor says, keeping his cool.

“There isn’t.” I take a deep breath of the oxygen as my head begins to pound from their annoyance and constant bickering. “I belong to no one. I don’t want what is going on here, but both of you are my friends, that’s it. End of story.” A firefighter finally comes out of the shop and walks right to me, saving me from Taylor and Luca.

And while the conversation is over, Luca isn’t done staking his claim. His hand finds my shoulder again, but I don’t mind. His touch has always felt good, felt right, and eased me in ways nothing else ever has.

“Your apartment is safe due to the different ventilation systems. There is minor smoke damage on the ceiling, but the wall where the oven was needs to be replaced along with the oven. Looks like that oven has recently been recalled as well for faulty wiring.”

There used to be a time when I wouldn’t know what to do because I had no money. That isn’t the case now. This is my dream, and I’m going to repair it. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, ma’am. Have a good day.”

“You too,” I say weakly, leaning my head against the side of the ambulance where the metal is cool and feels good against my head. There’s a pounding inside my skull that gets stronger with every beat my heart makes.

“I’ll take care of this, Camilla. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

I don’t know why, but his words cause me to become furious. I rip the oxygen from my face and toss it in the ambulance and stand. “I don’t need anyone fighting my battles. I don’t need you to come in and save the day. I don’t need you to take over my life. I can do things. I can…” I press my hand against my chest as my eyes begin to well with tears. “I can do it! This is my bakery. This is my responsibility. I am able to repair my own business.”

“I know.” The two words are easy and smooth, his lips turning into a slight, understanding, tight grin.

“I can take care of myself. I can take care of my kids. This is mine. Not yours. I can do this,” I yell at him, wanting someone to understand that I don’t need anyone.

I’ve never needed anyone, and I never will.

“I know, Beautiful Girl.”

“I can do this.” A sob breaks free. “I can take care of myself,” I repeat, but I know I don’t mean a damn word of it.

I’m so tired. I feel so defeated. I’m so exhausted. I can’t take care of myself anymore. I don’t know if I have the energy.

“You’re doing great, too,” Taylor chimes in. “I need to go, but I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll be back soon.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, but I don’t miss the evil eye Luca gives him.

When he’s gone, Luca stands, cupping my cheeks in his palms. “You can take care of yourself. You can take care of your children. You can do anything by yourself.”

A tear breaks free, and I nod. “I can.”

“But you don’t have to,” he murmurs, running his fingers up my nape to hold my head back as he towers over me. “You can,” he reiterates. “But you don’t have to. I understand your fight, Beautiful Girl, and I’m not here to take it away. You have survival instincts. I respect them. You no longer have to fight alone.”

I shake my head because this can’t happen between us. Not again. “Luca—” I start to explain that he can’t be the person to help me. It isn’t a good idea.

He slips a finger over my lips to silence. “Will you be quiet and just let me take care of you?”

Before I can say anything else, he swings me into his arms again and carries me to the door that leads up to my apartment, which is right next to the entrance of the bakery. The firetrucks and medics leave, and when Luca opens the door, I let the fight go and drop my head against his shoulder.

He unlocks my apartment door, but I never give him a key.

“I own the building, remember?”

“I don’t know how I feel that you can come in here whenever you want.”

“I’d never do that to you. Your privacy is your own.” He locks the deadbolt and climbs up the stairs. “What time do the kids need to be picked up from daycare?”

“I can do it.”

He opens the door that leads us straight into the living room. “I know you can. I’m asking what time they need to be picked up from daycare?”

“In a few hours,” I relent. I do mean to fight him at every turn.

It’s a habit.

“Okay.” He places me down and kisses my forehead again. “Go take a shower. I’ll make you a snack.”

I watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket, folds it, then places it on a chair. “You aren’t moving,” he states, rolling up his sleeves.

What is it about such a simple gesture that has me melting for him?

“You don’t have to make me anything. I’m fine. I appreciate you bringing me to the apartment, but I can take it from here.”

“Beautiful Girl,” he sighs, gripping the back of the chair with his hands. The muscles in his forearms ripple, and the dark hair on his arms contrast against his olive-tinted skin. He hangs his head, then peers up at me, those electric blue irises spearing me through his ebony lashes. “What have I been telling you? I know you can take it from here. I know you can do all of the things your heart fucking desires. I know you can. You know you can. I’m telling you—” he pushes the chair aside and stands in front of me in three long strides. “—Go take a shower before I kiss you, and if there’s one thing I know you can do, it’s kiss.”

I gasp when he grips my chin between his fingers. He tilts my head back, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine. The warmth of his breath tickles my cheeks, and the smoke clinging to my clothes surrounds me as if we are creating our own fire and setting the apartment ablaze.

“You can do that, can’t you?” he whispers, nudging my nose with his before ghosting his fingers down my neck. “I dream of these lips. So soft, so…delicate.” His thumb rubs down my bottom lip, and I inhale a sharp breath. “The things I think about doing to this mouth.” He presses his forehead against mine, and a deep reverberation sounds in his throat. “Things I wanted to do before you left me alone. So if you aren’t ready to do those things, get in the shower and get cleaned up. Now.” He pushes himself away from me, running his fingers through his hair.

I can’t seem to move my feet. I know I need to, I want to, but I’m trapped by the disarray of his image. He’s breathing hard, his nostrils flare, his hair is a mess, and he doesn’t bother hiding how hard his cock is. It’s tenting his pants, protruding long and wide, just like I remember him.

“Go!” he roars at me, and I jump, startled by how loud he gets.

I finally get my feet moving and run down the hall, leaving him behind me. I press my hand against my heart to feel how fast it’s beating and slam the bathroom door behind me, locking it to be safe.

If he wants to get in, he will.

A mafia king knows how to pick a lock, but I also don’t know if I can trust myself right now. Even I’m worried I’ll walk out of this bathroom naked and throw away all thought, all reason, and just beg for him to take me.

But this time, I won’t leave.

I have nowhere else to go. It would be him that would have to leave.

I flinch again when I hear the crash of pots and pans. Taking a slow deep breath, I try to relax, letting my mind stop racing and come to a halt.

Undressing from my smoky clothes, I spin around and look in the mirror. “Oh God,” I chuckle to myself when I see a bit of soot on my cheek and under my nostrils. My hair is a wreck, and my mascara is in rivers down my face.

And he still wants me?

He looked at me out in the living room, and he still found me attractive like this? Is he insane?

Turning on the shower, I don’t bother waiting until the water is warm. I step inside the cool spray and sigh, letting every drop soak my hair. I keep my head tilted back, my skin rising in goosebumps from the chill.

After washing my hair, I wash my body, and I hiss when my fingers graze over my nipples. They are hard and sensitive from the explosion that nearly happened in the room. I bite my lip and wonder if it would be okay if I touched myself.

He doesn’t need to know.

He’ll never know.

I skim my hand down my body, cupping my pussy, and groaning as I rub my clit.

“Oh God,” I groan louder than I intend to, then pinch my lips shut.

I haven’t touched myself in too long. I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm. I slip a finger inside, pumping in and out slowly before I feel ready to increase the pace. When I do, I pinch my clit and lean my back against the side of the shower. Not even the cold water could stop the roaring rage of lava searing my veins right now. I think about Luca, about him shutting me up and pressing me against any flat surface.

He doesn’t even need to get completely undressed. He can whip off his belt, toss it to the floor, tugging his pants down enough to slide his cock inside me.

“Yes,” I whimper, moving my hand faster, chasing the high I haven’t felt since my twenty-first birthday. “Luca,” his name leaves me before I can think better of it, but I don’t stop. The thought of him feels too good.

I picture him slapping my ass, gripping the cheeks hard to pull me back into his cock to ram into me unapologetically. It isn’t the thought of my orgasm that sends me over the edge.

It’s his.

I remember how he paused, thrusting as far as he could as he came when he took my virginity.

That memory alone has me groaning, and the sound echoes off the walls of the shower. I stop myself before I get too loud by removing a hand from my clit to shove into my mouth.

When the waves of pleasure stop, I sag to try and catch my breath.

That felt good, but the voice in the back of my head says something else.

The real thing would feel so much better.