Chapter 20

20

"Right this way," the ma?tre d' says, motioning for us to follow him.

I slide my hand to the small of Wren's back and guide her across the expansive dining room, shifting her body in front of mine so I can take a moment to admire how fucking gorgeous she looks tonight.

The dress she's wearing clings to her body like a second skin, and my eyes aren't the only ones following the soft sway of her hips as we make our way to the balcony seating area.

I'm having second thoughts on letting her wear these excuses for dresses, even if it's with me.

I clench and unclench my fist at my side as my head swivels with each step, throwing each man with wandering eyes a caustic stare that has them suddenly finding the floor extremely interesting. It's a practice in self-restraint, really. Though I'm smugly satisfied with the knowledge that her cunt is stuffed full of my cum as she takes her seat.

That detour was easily worth being thirty minutes late for our reservation. Savor'd is part of my portfolio; I provided some capital for them to expand to this top-floor location a few years back, so even if they were annoyed by our tardiness, they were still accommodating. The place is impressive and the balcony boasts a view people would kill for. From our corner table upon it, you can see the sparkling lights of the city and Lake Michigan without even trying.

I've brought women here to dine before, but never requested a table outside. The stunning view seemed too good to share with them, like their eagerness to please me or grab for my money would spoil the memory. But I couldn't think of a better person to share this with than Wren.

Hopefully, her reaction to what I have to tell her won't taint the view.

Even if it was just a sloppy car hookup, I needed that taste of her, one more time– because after I tell her everything, the possibility of her walking away from me is very real. When Doctor Marino confirmed that the baby was mine, the rush I felt was quickly dampened by the realization that I still need to tell her who the father of her child really is, and risk her walking out on me. The irony isn't lost on me because it's usually me doing the walking. But the fear I might lose her is something I'll have to risk. She deserves my honesty.

The waiter leaves us with menus and I watch as Wren's baby blues widen in wonder, sparkling even brighter as she takes in everything around her. Her fingers trail along the base of a glass lantern in the center of the table, holding a candle surrounded by eucalyptus and red roses inside it.

"Bowie," she breathes. "This place... it's gorgeous!"

"I'm glad you like it," I murmur, my lips tugging into a smile at her approval.

"Honestly, you could have taken me to McDonald's and I'd have been happy," she laughs, opening the menu. Her brows furrow together in contemplation as she starts to peruse it, and I reach across the table and snap the menu shut.

"How many times must I tell you, Passerotta, the mother of my child deserves far better than that." My thumb strokes the back of her hand as her features soften and her lips part. "Did the Doctor call?"

"He did."

"And?"

"It's mine."

"Told you so," she sing-songs, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Wren," my tone hardens. "It's important you know I never doubted you. This was simply a formality for a man in my position."

"I get it," she sighs, suddenly turning serious as she squeezes my hand. "I really do. Even if you'd had your doubts, I wouldn't fault you." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "But thank you for never treating me like you did." Her throat bobs with a swallow and she fans her face. "Ugh, sorry. These hormones are no joke."

Wren carefully dabs the corner of her napkin at her eyes, trying to not smudge her makeup, I assume. I don't know why she wears that shit in the first place, she's beautiful without it.

She opens her menu again while I move my own aside, reaching for my water glass. What I wouldn't give for this to be whiskey right now. But aside from wanting a completely clear head when I tell her about la famiglia, I'm not gonna be an ass and drink in front of her when she can't.

The more I sit here drowning in my own thoughts, the more time I have to talk myself out of this. But is there any value in delaying things? I've already made the mistake once of pushing her away instead of facing this head on. If she wants nothing to do with me after this… I'll have to accept it. I'll support her, let her live peacefully out in the burbs… even if it destroys me, I'll do it for her.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, the waiter suddenly appears to distract me from my circulating thoughts, asking if we're ready to order as he places a basket of fresh bread on the table and tops off our waters. I raise an eyebrow at Wren and she bites down on her lip. "You order first, I'll know what I want by then."

Clearing my throat, I hand the menu over as I order the minestrone. The waiter pivots toward Wren once more and she requests the chicken risotto. With a nod, he takes our menus and disappears. The glass doors are pushed open, the light chatter of those inside filtering out. Aside from another couple on the other end of the balcony, we practically have the place to ourselves.

"So," I start, tracing a finger around the rim of my water glass.

"So," she parrots. Arching a brow, she leans forward and folds her arms on the table. "What's on your mind?"

The action pushes her tits together and triggers the memory of them on display in the car as she thrashed around in frustration, body begging for release. Cazzo, I don't need to be thinking about that right now. I squeeze my thickening cock through my slacks, trying to fend off the chronic hard-on Wren supplies me with.

"You," I answer honestly.

A blush creeps across her creamy skin, a smile splitting her face, and I commit the sight to memory.

"What about you?" I ask, spreading my napkin across my lap.

She quirks a brow. "Your middle name."

"And why's that?"

"It's silly," she sighs as she reaches for a piece of bread and sets it on her plate. "Drea just got in my head about how much we really knew about each other."

The thought that Drea knows my secret sends a wave of heat rushing up my spine. But no, she can't. She'd have threatened me if she did. Drea's just mouthy that way. I quickly push that thought aside and answer her.

"Lorenzo, after my grandfather."

"Aww, that's so sweet. Bowie Lorenzo Sorrentino," she speaks slowly, testing each syllable as she strings them together for the first time.

Cazzo, I like the way that sounds falling from her lips.

"I'm anything but sweet," I chuckle.

"To me you are."

"You're forever the exception."

That same soft blush tints her skin, and for a second, I think I might like this more than the fully flushed and heavy-lidded look she wears after she shatters from pleasure. No, that one is still my favorite.

"What's yours?" I ask, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the oil before taking a bite.

"I don't have one." Wren's eyes dull as she slowly blinks them shut, and when they open, the shadows that veiled them are gone just as quickly as they came. "I know my name's Wren. I was old enough to tell the police that, but James was assigned by a social worker." She shrugs a shoulder. "I guess a middle name was just not something she had the energy for that day."

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try to craft a response. She's previously mentioned being in foster care, and it's not a topic I felt like broaching because anytime I see the shimmer of dejection in her eyes, it fucking guts me.

"Wren," I start.

She releases a heavy sigh, wiping her hands with her napkin. "If the next words out of your mouth involve anything even remotely reminiscent of 'sorry', I will throat-punch you."

"All right, all right," I suppress a laugh, lifting my hands in surrender. "We won't talk about it."

"It's not that I mind talking about it, but I hate being pitied for it." She rolls the stem of the water glass between her fingers as she gets lost in her thoughts for a moment. "I spent years coming to terms with it. I'd like to think that my parents didn't choose to leave me. As morbid as it sounds, I hope they're dead. Because that reality is a lot easier to grasp than the thought of them living a life without me."

I swallow roughly. "Wren-"

She grabs the butter knife and twirls it around to point at me. "Don't make me upgrade from punching to stabbing, Bowie Lorenzo."

Cazzo.

I'm sure she means to be threatening to some degree here, but all she's doing is making me want to bend her over the fucking table.

"My mother is the only one that's ever called me that," I say, darting a hand across the table. My fingers circle her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to take control and bend it back. Directing her hand, I drag the blunt tip of the knife across her pouty bottom lip. "But it sounds so much better coming from your pretty little mouth."

Her lips part in a silent gasp, the surprise in her features morphing quickly to lust as I lower our hands to the table. She releases the knife, sliding her hand on top of mine and softly tracing the outlines of my tattoos. Her touch is soft, gentle even, but each little stroke ignites the fire burning in my veins for her.

"You said they lived out in Northbrook? Your parents, right?"

"And my little sister, yes."

"I always wanted a sibling," she says absentmindedly as she nods her head.

Gripping her fingers, I bring her hand to my mouth and place a kiss on the back of it. "I can't give you siblings, but we can make sure that our little guy has a whole lot of them."

"That's rather presumptuous of you," she says with a smirk. "What makes you think that I want more kids after this one?"

I cock an eyebrow at her.

She folds her arms across her chest, deepening her cleavage as she lifts a brow of her own at me.

I love her little acts of defiance. This is why she's so different, never letting me have full control. Not even in sex. She always manages to get exactly what she wants, even if it's by submitting to me.

The corner of her mouth tugs up and she rolls her eyes. "Fine, you're right. I do want more, a few actually."

I chuckle, "Oh passerotta, I don't know if I could stop at a few." Scooting my chair closer to hers, I guide her hand beneath the table to the front of my slacks. "Feel that?" I question, her eyes round as her palm comes to rest on my thickening cock. "That's what the thought of you always stuffed full of my cum, belly growing with my baby -our baby- does to me."

Shifting in her seat, she squeezes her thighs together. I lean over, nip at her earlobe with my teeth, and lower my voice. "That turns you on, doesn't it?" Her throat bobs with a swallow as I continue. "You want me to fuck you raw, fill that pretty pussy of yours so full of my cum that it'll leak down your thighs? But, I'll fuck every last drop back inside you and keep you pregnant more often than not."

I press a kiss to her temple, slipping her hand back to her lap and sliding my chair back over.

Releasing a shuddered breath, Wren reaches out for her water glass. I watch in amusement as she takes a long, slow sip before her half-lidded eyes look up to meet mine.

"So, what's your favorite color?" she asks, tongue darting out to sweep away a rogue drop of water.

"Purple."

"Really?" she snorts. "Why?"

"What is this, twenty questions?"

"There's just so much I still don't know about you."

"Yeah," I heave a sigh. "I actually wanted to talk to you about-"

"Well, well, well, the view really is better out here."

My jaw tightens as I swivel my head around, glaring at Gabriel Belluci approaching our table. His muddy eyes tour Wren's body and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Who is this fine woman gracing you with her company?"

Wren smiles politely, blushing as she lifts her hand toward him. "I'm-"

Absolutely the fuck not.

Her forehead wrinkles as I snatch her hand out of the air before Belluci can take it, threading my fingers with hers and lowering our intertwined hands down to the table. "This is Wren," I answer for her.

Gabriel licks his lips again, flashing a sleazy grin at Wren before shifting his eyes toward me. "Awfully brave of you, Sorrentino. Putting your woman on display in times like these."

I can feel the vein in my neck start pulsating in irritation from his presence alone, and with his insinuation, it takes more effort than normal to keep my face from reflecting my agitation.

"And what times are those, exactly?" I sneer in response.

"Tsk, tsk, you really are as out of touch as they say you are. Word on the street is things are shifting."

"I wouldn't trust the word of the low lives you associate yourself with," I grumble.

"Trust is fickle, Bowie, and it seems that there's been some second-guessing in la famiglia."

Cazzo. I glance toward Wren, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. Her lips are pursed, a crease forming between her brows. Her eyes are flooded with confusion as she meets my gaze.

"Leave, Belluci," I spit, snapping my head back toward him and tipping it in the direction of the patio doors.

Gabriel's eyes don't stray from Wren's face as his lips curl up into a sneer. His mouth opens, ready to spew more insolent shit, but he's interrupted by the waiters appearing with our food. They place our meals down in front of us quickly, as if they can feel the animosity hanging heavily around us, then scamper off.

"Well, I'll let you two enjoy your dinner," Belluci grumbles wryly, as if he's suddenly polite and it's his idea. "I'll see you around Sorrentino. And Wren, it was lovely to meet you." He reaches a hand into his suit jacket, pulling out a business card and flipping it on the table in front of her. "Call me if this stronzo proves as incapable of catering to your needs as he does for la famiglia."

"She'll do no such thing," I grit out.

"Hmm, possessive, I see." His eyes finally shift to mine as he strokes his chin. "Careful Bowie, you're showing your cards."

"It's a good thing I've got the winning hand, then."

"We'll see about that," he says in a patronizing tone of voice that sets my teeth on edge, then pivots on his heels and strides away.

I watch him carefully for a moment as he recedes into the crowd, still seething at his thinly veiled threat. Then I swing my gaze back to Wren and I instantly wish I hadn't. There's a storm of emotions raging in her baby blues. This is not how I wanted this to go. I squeeze her hand and release it.

"Bowie..." she rasps. "What the fuck was that about?"

"I'm sure you've got a lot of questions now," I mutter, carding my fingers through my hair.

"Uhm, obviously." Her face twists with discontentment. "That guy gave me the icks, he wouldn't stop staring at me. How do you know that jerk, anyways?"

"Wren, there's something I need to tell you about my work."

"The investment firm?" she questions, taking another piece of bread from the basket.

"No, there's also the family business."

"Oh, the Monarch Club?" She pops a chunk of bread in her mouth.

"That's part of it, yes."

"Geeze, there's more?" She snorts a laugh as she picks up her water. "What, you're in the mob or something?" she teases as she takes a sip.

I stare into those perfect baby blues, giving her a curt nod, and she immediately chokes on her water. Jolting to my feet, I round the table in an instant, rubbing her back. "Are you okay, Bella?"

She slaps her palm onto the table as she coughs, bobbing her head up and down until she can speak. "Yeah, yeah," she coughs, waving a hand at me. "Sorry, I swore I saw you nod your head." Her fingers swipe away the moisture from her eyes. "Can pregnancy hormones make you hallucinate?"

My hand stills, as I sigh, "No, Passerotta." Hooking two fingers beneath her chin, I tilt it up as I run my thumb across her bottom lip. "It's time you knew the truth."

Her eyes widen, panic flooding her features, and my chest tightens at the sight. I smooth her hair before dropping a kiss on the top of her head and returning to my seat. Sinking down into my chair, I draw in a deep breath and release it as I gather my thoughts.

Wren's teeth rake across her bottom lip as she watches me, and the freaked-out look on her face tightens the vise on my heart. I need her to understand this, to accept it, to accept me.

"You were probably too young to remember, but about twenty years ago, there were a string of FBI raids in the city."

"I've heard about them."

"After Frankie Fracassi cut a deal, the rest of the families, mine included, went underground. The Fracassi family was the main family. My father and that creep Gabriel's father, worked directly for Frankie. Frankie was dealt with after his betrayal to la famiglia. Each family kept to themselves, keeping their own endeavors going and just trying to stay off of the Fed's radar. About the time my father handed over the mantle to me, we started doing business more openly again."

"What kind of business is that, exactly?" she asks timidly.

"Well, we do loans, offer protection, host poker games, and… drugs." I tug at my collar, mumbling the last part.

She stiffens, a frown forming on her face that acts like a sucker punch to the gut.

"But, I'm getting us out of that," I add quickly. "Gabriel wants the drugs and I don't. I don't want my name associated with that any longer. It's why I have the club and the investment firm- they're legitimate."

"Is that why he was like that?"

"Gabriel and I don't share the same visions. He likes making his money off exploiting people. I don't."

"Exploiting people, how?" she questions.

"Drugs, for one. He doesn't care who he sells to or where. And he has a questionably legitimate escort service with an ever-changing crew of girls."

Nodding slowly, her shoulders relax as she picks up her fork. I watch in silence as she starts to push her food around her plate.

Reaching across the table, I cover her hand with mine. "Say something."

Wren swallows hard, laying her fork to the side. Her lips part to speak, but the waiter interrupts her.

Impeccable timing, this guy.

"Is everything alright with the food? Can I get you two anything?"

"We're fine," I state flatly, waving him away.

Luckily, he takes the hint and scurries off again.

"Wren?" I trace circles on the back of her hand.

"This is all just... It's a lot to process right now, Bowie."

"I know."

Fuck, I'm blowing this.

"It doesn't change who I am, or how I feel about you. If anything, you've changed me. Every moment between us has been real."

"But it does, Bowie. It changes who you are to me," she says in a clipped tone as she pulls her hand from mine. "This is part of you, a big part, and you hid it from me." She pushes her chair back, dropping her napkin on the table and grabbing her clutch as she stands. "Excuse me."

Adrenaline courses through my veins and I shoot to my feet, moving to block her path. "Where are you going?"

Propping a hand on her hip, she shoots me a vexed look. "To the restroom, is that okay?"

My heart thunders in my chest as I nod sheepishly and step aside. I watch after her carefully- not knowing where Belluci slithered off to- as she disappears down the hall. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sink back into my seat. This is not going well. I don't know how I expected her to react, but I curse that fucker for making the conversation start the way it did.

I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh and I shift, pulling it from my pocket and tilting the screen.

O'Ryan

Update- Silos soon?

Of fucking course, he'd get information at the most inconvenient time. There's no way in hell I can leave Wren's side tonight, I've got to keep pleading my case to her.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, I type out my response.

I'll let you know.

Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I clock Wren returning from the restroom. My shoulders relax, relief washing over me at the fact she didn't run.

Wren sits down and folds her hands in her lap, her eyes brimming with emotion as her bottom lip trembles. "I'm going to stay with Drea tonight."

My knuckles whiten as I grip the table, holding myself back from snapping and saying something I'll regret. Instead, I clench my jaw so tightly that it's a miracle I don't shatter a molar. I know I said I'd let her go, but that was before I was actually faced with it happening.

I release a ragged breath. "It's not safe for you. Gabriel's seen you, and he knows you're important to me. That makes you a target, now."

"So what, you're just going to lock me away now?" she fires back.

"If it meant keeping you safe, I would."

"Bowie," she admonishes. "I need some time to think, okay? When I thought we were going to be getting to know each other better over dinner, I didn't know that included learning my boyfriend was the leader of a crime gang."

"Outfit," I correct.

"What?"

"We're an outfit, not a crime gang."

She purses her lips and gives me a pointed look. "Still." Her face softens. "I just need some time to wrap my mind around this and what it means for me and the baby."

"Will you be back in the morning?"

"I don't know," she sighs, reaching across the table to grab my hand. "Can you do this for me, please?"

"Dallas goes with you."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter."

"I don't want to clip your wings, Passerotta, but you're mine and so's that baby, and I'll be damned if you go anywhere without some sort of protection."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Fine. Dallas can stand guard."

I fire off a text to Dallas, filling him in on what's transpired. Then we just… eat our dinner. The waiter must have felt the tension, because he never comes back by the table. Wren avoids the topic at hand, and I don't push it further. Instead, we force some small talk while both of us pick at our tepid meals.

Dallas is waiting outside our door when we get home. Wren swipes her key and hurries inside to grab a few things, while I linger in the hall.

"You call me if anything, and I mean anything, seems off," I instruct.

Dallas nods.

"Between us," I say, lowering my voice and stepping closer, "Wren's carrying my child, and your fault or not, if anything happens to her I will kill you with my bare hands, so help me god."

His eyes widen at my words, throat bobbing with a swallow as he answers, "Yessir."

Wren appears in the hall, my eyes zeroing in on the small black duffel bag in her hand. She can't be planning on being gone too long with a bag that size, right?

I peck a kiss on her cheek as she passes me to enter the elevator, then all I can do is watch as the doors slide shut and a part of my heart disappears from my sight.