Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(39)

Spada ignores me, though. “Grow a pair, De Luca,” he snarls, “and stop acting like a three-year-old while you’re at it. She doesn’t want to be with you, she doesn’t want to be with you. Get the fuck over it.”

Surprisingly Sal starts to regain some control. He straightens his jacket and takes a step back from the table. “I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you. Not when you let Cain McAllister defile your own daughter.”

There’s a sudden silence around the table. Sal’s gone a step too far. But I can tell he’s not the only one in the room thinking the same thing. In all honesty, I’ve had the same thought myself.

Spada rises from his chair very slowly. He looks utterly calm, his face expressionless. “Get out,” he says quietly. “Get the fuck out of my sight, De Luca.”

Sal sneers, but he says nothing. Instead he turns and leaves the room.

The tension’s still there, thrumming through the room. I clear my throat. “You know I want his ass,” I say quietly, and Spada turns his head to look at me, just waiting to hear what I’m going to say. “But I’ll accept your judgment. I’ll pay off the loan for Sarah and leave Sal alone.”

“Thank you,” Spada says.

I give him a small nod and I, too, leave the room. Sal’s nowhere to be seen, which is probably for the best.

And, perhaps best of all, Sarah’s mine, and there’s not a goddamn thing Sal fucking De Luca can do about it.

#

I head home, but Sarah’s not there. It’s only after I search the whole house that I realize I turned my phone off while I was at the meeting. I turn it back on and, sure enough, there’s a text from her.

Went to the bakery. Have some things to take care of.

That’s it. No declarations of love or even a little <3 symbol. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything like that, although it would be nice to think the future mother of my child at least likes me.

The thought has me a little irritated, on top of the fact she left the house without my permission. Add to that the fact Sal’s thoroughly pissed off and very likely looking for her, and I’m heading way too fast for the bakery. Most likely no cops in the area are going to pull me over, but it’s best to avoid undue attention.

Finally I pull up and park in front of the bakery. I don’t see Sal’s car anywhere, but I do see one of mine. I wonder where she found the keys. She’s a little too resourceful for her own good sometimes.

I get out and head toward the door. A few steps away from the front door, I can see her, and I stop for a minute.

She’s behind the counter but away from the cash register. Instead she’s kneading dough on the wide working area next to the display cabinet where she showcases the day’s pastries. She’s got on a green apron; the front of it’s mostly white at the moment, covered in flour. She’s got flour on her arms up to the elbows, and I can see some of it decorating her dark hair. Totally focused on what she’s doing with the dough, she seems completely oblivious to the mess she’s made of herself.

I realize I’m smiling. Wrapped in an apron, covered in flour, she’s still easily one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Again I wonder if there’s a baby growing inside her. Someday that apron will balloon out, covering her swelling womb, and I’ll be able to walk up to her and lay a hand on that curve, feel the movement inside her as our child stretches and kicks.

The thought makes my dick spring to immediate attention. If I haven’t put that baby into her yet, I will soon. She backhands a strand of hair out of her face and then puffs air upward when it tries to fall back down. I want to bend her over that flour-covered counter and fuck her silly.

Then I realize she’s here alone. I don’t even see the other girl, the one she hired to help her out, whatever her name is. Sal could come by here and make off with her anytime he wants.

My mouth tightens. I push the door open and go in.

Sarah looks up sharply at the sound of the bell over the door. “Nick!”

“Surprised to see me?”

“No… I mean…” She trails off, seemingly unable to finish the thought. “I didn’t expect you to come by here. How did the meeting go?”

I shrug. “Fine. I didn’t get what I wanted, but Sal made a jackass out of himself in front of Spada and his inner circle, so I call that a win.”

“So… So you’re not going to kill him?” She’s so careful, the way she asks the question. Like she’s afraid of offending me.

“I didn’t say that.” My tone’s a bit glib. I come closer to the counter where she’s working. Up close I can see a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Kneading must be hard work. “I just said Spada didn’t give me permission.”