Anthony Read online

  If he and I are a mess together, then imagine what our child will be? A mixture of the Moretti and Wrenn bloodline. The kid will be all kinds of fucked up. Probably end up in a laboratory somewhere being studied by a team of scientists. And God help us all if it looked anything like Tony. The female population of North Carolina wouldn’t stand a chance. Dark, thick hair, sun-darkened skin, stunning gray, perceptive eyes that I sometimes got lost in, and a body that literally makes drool form in my mouth.

  Yet even after listing the many reasons it was crazy to consider, I want to have his child more than ever. Hence, this insane stunt I’m pulling right under his nose. Never corner a wild animal. You’ll be sorry…so very sorry. Run…run. A part of me wonders if it is really a baby I want or simply the feeling of electricity running through my veins at the thought of pushing him too far. He accused me of having a death wish, which might be more accurate than I’m willing to admit. Although I know he’d never physically hurt me, there are other ways to destroy the daughter of the man who murdered his father. If he has a clue how obsessed I’ve become with him, it would be all the ammunition he needed. I simply didn’t have the strength left to survive in a world where Tony Moretti hated me. Right or wrong, he’s the reason I get up every morning and is what’s kept me moving through the endless hours and days only to repeat the process over again. He’s why I’m still here. Before him, I could have given a fuck if I lived or died, and I’ve felt that way for a long time. I’m loved by no one. I could cease to exist, and not a single person would really care. Sure, my bleeding-heart sister, Jade, might be mildly upset, but she has a life of her own now with a husband who absolutely adores her and a son they both dote on. Her life is a fucking Norman Rockwell painting. And mine is a Stephen King novel. Because you’re a monster. Dress her up—make her pretty. Doesn’t change the fact. She’s ugly inside. Her soul is black. Who could possibly love such a hideous monster?

  Jax is speaking again. How much of the conversation have I missed during my trip down memory lane? Tony hated it when I zoned out on him. He always wanted to know where I went, so I laughed and made up something silly like a shoe sale. He saw right through me…of course. He knew when the demons were at my door because he’s just as haunted as I am. “Listen, lady, as I said, you need to pack up whatever you’re doing here and go elsewhere. You’re causing a disturbance, and the boss isn’t happy about it.”

  I turn on my barstool and look directly at Jax, who gives me a blank stare before I slowly raise my head and lock eyes with him. Even from this distance, I see the shock he’s unable to hide. He staggers as if absorbing a blow before the impassive mask falls back into place. “Good to see you again, Jax,” I say to the other man without looking away from the figure standing at the balcony above me. Looking down at the world through those gray eyes. My lone wolf. The air literally sizzles as awareness shoots through my body. How is it possible to respond like this to a man who is essentially a stranger?

  Men are the enemy. They only use and abuse you.

  Because Tony lived above the club, I met Jax several times during my two-week stay with his boss. He was always polite and never asked questions in my presence about why I was there. Clearly, he hasn’t recognized me yet with the different hair color. His voice is indifferent but curious as he asks, “What’s going on?”

  Before I can answer, a hand lands on his shoulder as a drunken idiot slurs out, “Hey buddy, wait your turn.” He waves a paper in front of Jax’s face. “I’ve got my application ready to turn in.” He gives me a leer that has me rolling my eyes in disgust. Licking his lips, he adds, “I’m more than ready to be your baby daddy, sweetheart. No test tube required. The old-fashioned way is much nicer.”

  Jax blinks a few times as he attempts to process the other man’s words. He then grabs the paper from the man’s hand and has a nearby security guard escort the man out when he protests loudly. Jax scans the application, and a smile pulls at my lips as his eyes widen. “Are you out of your mind?” he asks incredulously. “You’re actually holding interviews in a bar for a man to father your child?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Was McDonald’s too crowded?” His eyes run over me appreciatively. “Is this one of those hidden camera shows? You’re hot as fuck. There’s no way you need to advertise for a man.”

  I shrug my shoulders, looking the picture of confidence as I pick up a stack of completed applications and slide a paperclip on them. “Can you think of a better place to find eager men?” I glance in the direction of Tony once more before adding, “Now, if you don’t mind, others are waiting. And if your boss has a problem with me being here, then please tell him he knows what he can do to stop it.” With those words, I turn my back on Jax and wait.

  A long moment passes before I hear him laugh—but it contains no humor. Then he says, “You have no idea who you’re playing with, lady. If I were you, I’d pack my shit and get out of here while you can.”

  “Well, you’re not me,” I toss over my shoulder. “And I’m not afraid of Tony Moretti. You can tell him that, too.”

  He curses under his breath but leaves. I sag against my chair for a moment, before once again straightening my spine. The show must go on. “Next,” I croak out through parched lips. Regardless of my brave words to Jax, I’m shaking. I fight the urge to flee. What will Tony do about this? But then I remind myself that he can’t do anything to me that would be worse than what I’ve lived through. There is only one way he can hurt me, and that would be to disappear from my life. Anything else is simply another game I’ll be forced to play to get what I want. I shake my head at my dramatic thoughts. Who am I kidding? Tony isn’t like the others. For the first time, it could be about pleasure—not pain. Not dominance. But that’s something I hope he never discovers. I know he suspects I did a lot of shady business for my father. In truth, I was mostly kept away from anything illegal. And let’s not kid ourselves here; there was a lot of that. Even though he covered his tracks well, I’ve seen enough since taking over Wrenn to know that a big chunk of his money was dirty. Which is why I’ve sold off everything questionable. We’ve taken a big financial hit on some of it, but I’d rather lose money than spend the rest of my life in jail for my father’s corrupt ways.

  I’m in no way innocent. I sold my body and soul long ago for dear old Dad.

  He left me no choice.

  My stomach roils as bile threatens to choke me.

  Is it any wonder that I’m here now doing something so desperate? Those moments in Tony’s arms were the closest I’ve ever come to feeling like I mattered. And even then, paranoia still lurked. Why would a stranger help the daughter of the man who organized his father’s murder? What kind of game was he playing? I waited on pins and needles for days, expecting the retaliation, but it never came. Instead, he put me back together—as much as was possible at least. He made no mention of me leaving. He seemed more than content to let me stay with him. I was the one who walked away when he didn’t agree to my demands.

  He’s not like the others. Maybe he’s…good?

  I snort as that ludicrous thought fills my head, only to be discounted. I know well that the son of Draco Moretti is far from a choirboy. I’m also aware that I robbed him of his warranted revenge that night. Does he hate me for that? For taking away something that was rightfully his? I know enough about the mafia to realize that an eye-for-an-eye is acceptable. Will he forgive me for taking that away from him? It wasn’t premeditated. I have a hard time believing that I pulled the trigger—not once, but twice. And even then, my finger had twitched, wanting to empty the chamber into his black heart. Had I not passed out, I probably would have. He deserved it—he was the one who destroyed my soul.

  A hand touches my shoulder, and I freeze, feeling some of the energy sucked from the room. I whirl, expecting it to be him but blink in surprise when it’s not. The eyes are similar. The coloring and build too. This hulk of a man is darkly handsome, and my pulse races even though he’s not the one I’m here for. He eyes me leis
urely from head to foot without permission or apology. He’s not a man used to asking for permission, that much is apparent. Finally, his mouth quirks into a smile, and I see another piece of Tony there. They must be related. Either that, or I’ve officially lost what little sanity I have left, and I’m seeing the object of my obsession in every man now. “I thought that was you, Lucy.” His head moves to the side before he adds, “I preferred your hair blond, but this works as well.”

  Lucy? “Do I know you?” I ask. I assume it’s a case of mistaken identity if not for the comment about my hair. On a crazy impulse, I changed my former blond locks to a dark shade of brown. Somehow, it made it easier for me to look at the woman in the mirror. I hate seeing so much darkness, such a wasted life in front of me. Someone capable of betrayal and murder. It hasn’t changed who I am inside—nothing short of a miracle can do that—but it has made it easier to pretend I’m not Jacey Wrenn.

  He laughs, and I nearly melt into a puddle in the floor. This is how Tony would look if he were happy. But like me, he’s more serious and solemn than this man. Were Tony and I ever young and carefree? He places a large hand against his chest in what I hope is a mock gesture of pain. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me.” He glances at the men surrounding us before lowering his head closer to mine. “I’ve taken care of a lot of details on your behalf. I feel as if that moves us past formality and straight to the friend’s level.”

  I frown as I process his words. Then it hits me. “Marco,” I murmur, not needing his nod of confirmation to know I’m right. I heard Tony talking to him more than once, but he wasn’t who told me the name of the man before me. That had come from Jade. She and Lee were there that horrible day, and when I asked her to fill in the details for me, she mentioned Marco with equal parts trepidation and awe.

  He tips his head in agreement, looking at the stack of applications in front of me. Before I can stop him, he picks one up and scans it. I see his mouth twitch as he tosses it back onto the table. “I certainly picked the correct nickname for you.”

  “Lucy is a nickname? Are we talking the character from Charlie Brown?” I’ve been called many things, but this is a new one.

  He shakes his head. “Actually, it’s after Lucifer. You realize that he was once a fallen angel. And that’s what you reminded me of that day—a fallen angel, but no less beautiful for it.”

  Even though the meaning behind the name isn’t exactly flattering, the look in his eyes says he means it as a compliment. Regardless of who I am and what I’ve done, this man clearly admires me—and desires me. But his desire doesn’t make me uncomfortable; quite the opposite. It’s almost warm and comforting. I’m not fooling myself, though. He’s a Moretti and therefore far more dangerous than I can possibly guess. Yet I’m perfectly at ease with his proximity. With him. And while I can appreciate how hot he is, it’s different than what I feel for Tony. “I should probably be offended,” I toss out, but we both know there’s no heat behind my words. This man seems like a friend.

  He reaches out to tap my nose as he says, “You know better.”

  Before I can reply, he’s there, and all the air is sucked out of the room. For a moment, I can’t breathe. His lips tighten when he sees the crowd of men still standing near the table. He’s furious. He refuses to make eye contact with me; instead, he claps Marco on the shoulder, and they do the standard guy half embrace. “Let’s go to my office,” he clips out before turning on his heel and walking away.

  Marco shoots me an amused look as he shakes his head. “You’re in trouble, Lucy, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s exactly what you were aiming for.”

  I don’t bother to confirm or deny his suspicions. Instead, I give him a blank stare that has him laughing once again. “If I weren’t so envious, I’d feel sorry for my cousin. Because you’re bound to make his life a living hell for years to come.” He surprises me by dropping an easy kiss onto the top of my head before disappearing in the direction Tony had headed seconds earlier.

  Do I have an ally in Marco Moretti?

  He may not have put it into words, but killing my father has earned me immense favor in his eyes. And he may have saved my ass tonight. I had no idea what I’d do after Tony knew of my stunt, but now I need to use the distraction of Marco’s appearance to retreat. Yes, I wanted a reaction from Tony, but giving him some time and space to cool down might be the smartest move for now. So, I get quickly to my feet and gather the papers I’ve collected. They’ll be going straight into the trash. The remaining men protest, but I barely notice as I all but run from Tony’s club. I don’t relax until I’m locked safely inside my Mercedes driving toward my condominium. I sold the family home as soon as I legally could, having no desire to ever step foot inside those doors again. I took none of the furnishings with me, because I wanted—needed—to start over in a place that held no memories of the man I spent my life fearing. A man who poisoned me with his lies for too long.

  Instead of the usual emptiness I inevitably feel at the end of each day, there’s excitement coursing through my veins. How can just thinking about Tony make me feel so alive? Did I poke the angry bear tonight? Yes. And who knows how he’ll react? But regardless of the outcome, it was the best few hours I’ve had since I left him months ago. Although that is a sad and true commentary on the state of my life. He doesn’t want me. But any attention from the fierce and potent man is enough…it seems.

  2

  Anthony

  I scowl as Marco drops down into the chair in front of my desk. I was beyond angry when I saw him standing so close to Jacey. Mine. Why the fuck does she make me feel so possessive of her? Because she belongs to you. Fuck. Not only do I want to kick my cousin’s ass over a woman, but I’m also carrying on a silent argument with the voice in my head. I need to get laid and burn off the shitstorm clouding my judgment and keeping me off center. But I know that no amount of pussy is going to cure what ails me. For as much as I consider her mine, I’ve become hers as well. How is that possible? You don’t even know her. The strange part is that I do. I only have to look at her and know what she’s thinking or feeling. In a weird way, we’re connected. And it’s fucking unsettling. At times, I wish I could sever that link, and at others, I’m awed that such a thing is even possible. Marco throws his foot onto the edge of my desk, then crosses the other over it. He knows I hate that shit, but his grin says he could give a fuck. I relax as I roll my eyes at the juvenile tactic. I’m closer to him than anyone else in the family, and even when he irritates the hell out of me, I still enjoy his company. “Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically as I mirror his movements on the other side of my desk.

  He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries but gets straight to the subject at hand. “So, she’s back.” Then waves a hand in the air. “But what the fuck was that shit about? You’re letting her hold some kind of sperm-seeking job fair in your club? I gotta say, brother, you’re a lot more open-minded than I believed.”

  I surprise myself by chuckling at his words. I expected the anger to return, but it’s banked for the moment. “She’s something else, right? I nearly lost it when Jax told me about her little enterprise.”

  Marco eyes me suspiciously as if expecting me to shit a unicorn at any moment. Probably thinks I’m drunk or high. Two things I rarely am. “You sound almost proud of her. I mean, I’m the last to judge dysfunctional relationships, because I’ve been with my share of crazy chicks, but this is a new one for me.”

  I pull a cigarette from a nearby pack and offer him one before lighting the tip. I need to stop this nasty shit. I inhale deeply before releasing the smoke into the air. “A part of me is impressed that after all she’s been through, she still has the balls to come into my place and rub my nose into the floor. Do you know a man who would be brave enough to attempt that?”

  He shakes his head. “Knew she was special when she took out her old man. She’s fucked five ways to Sunday, though, brother. She’s all fire and brimstone on the surface, but it’s there
if you know where to look. And we’ve both been trained to see what others cannot.”

  I lean forward to put my cigarette out as I process his words. Marco has always been surprisingly insightful. He’s a man who spends a lot of time thinking about the actions of others. He likes to know what drives a person to do the things they do. We’ve had some deep conversations through the years, especially concerning the death of my father. “I see it too.” I sigh, wishing often I wasn’t so affected by her. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t be pissed over this fiasco tonight, because it’s brought her back into my life. Don’t get me wrong. Eventually, I would have gone after her, but…”

  “You needed her to come back on her own,” he says softly. I incline my head, telling him that, as always, he’s right. “Makes sense to me. Otherwise, you have a woman used to running so that you’ll chase her. No good ever comes from that shit.”

  Marco has no idea, but this stunt tonight wasn’t about playing hard to get. If that were the case, I wouldn’t be interested. But Jacey isn’t like other women. She’s not trying to trap me into marriage. Hell, I didn’t even expect her to follow me to my office. That would be far too predictable.

  No, she wants you to father a child.

  That desire is so illogical, I’ve wondered if she had a full-on mental breakdown that night. How else do I explain her insane desire to be a mother? And even if I can wrap my head around that notion, why in God’s name does she want me and only me to be the father? Marco continues to speculate on Jacey’s motives, but I don’t bother to correct him. I don’t want to lie to the man I consider a brother, nor am I comfortable sharing something so personal with him. When he pauses, I take the opportunity to change the subject. “Anything new on Tommy?”