Bulletproof Baby: An Age Gap, Surprise Pregnancy Mafia Romance (Mafia Mysteries)

Somehow, waking up in my childhood bedroom doesn’t welcome feelings of safety and happiness. The once white walls could use a touch of paint and the hardwood floors creak even louder than I remember. Faint aromas of perfume from my teenage years waft in from memories long ago, but the calm of coming home no longer greets me in these walls.

I push myself out of bed, knowing that I’m going to get a late start this Monday morning. The full-sized bed of my youth still holds me snugly, but I’d much prefer Valentino to my comforter set. I wanted to go with him when he offered to have me stay at his place. It’s exactly what I want, for him to want to be around me, to want to protect me.

However, a notion struck me as he chased off the intruder. I don’t know him as well as I know the way his cock feels driving in and out of me. The memory of every orgasm blurs together with the conversations we had about food and music. But we really didn’t spend much time talking about our families or anything important.

To have Valentino protect me when my parents are the ones who never should have put me in this situation in the first place is putting too much on him. He already has an ax to grind against Saul Caputo. What if Valentino makes things worse? What if he helps me only as a way to put himself in a better position than Saul?

Valentino is another don. The only difference is Val doesn’t make my stomach churn or my heart race from fear. The confusion of my emotions pushes me through my awkward morning routine only because I need to get to work to get out of my feelings.

When I finally make my way downstairs to the kitchen, my parents are sitting at the table. Pop’s reading his newspaper while sipping coffee. Ma’s at the stove putting together breakfast like I’m on my way to school. She sets down three plates and the third is obviously for me.

‘Morning, Lia. How was your weekend with Don Barrone?’ Ma asks with a hint of excitement.

‘How do you know who I was with?’ I ask her. ‘And what about the guy who broke into the office last night? Shouldn’t we call the police or something?’

‘Honey, you know why we can’t call the police,’ Pop says without looking up from his newspaper. ‘We know who you were with because we’ve been allowed to keep the funds gifted to us from the auction.’

‘That doesn’t sound right.’ I frown at the plate of bacon, toast, and a huge omelet. I’m in no mood to eat.

Ma’s still beaming with joy. ‘Don Caputo says that he purposely let Don Barrone outbid him to put you in a position to help all of us.’

‘Ha!’ I scoff, tossing my head back and waving them off. ‘If you were at that auction, you’d know that’s a lie. Valentino hates Saul, and Saul hates Valentino. Their families have some sort of feud⁠—’

‘Exactly,’ Pop interrupts me. ‘Don Caputo wants us to use Don Barrone’s money to reinforce our construction sites. Keep them safe, so things like last night don’t happen again.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? There’s no way you believe that anything Saul Caputo is doing is for our benefit.’ I can’t believe what they’re saying, but the delusional insanity continues.

Ma chimes in. ‘We’re just trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, Lia. You can tolerate Don Barrone. That’s obvious since we didn’t hear from you until you showed up last night. So go with it. Whenever you’re together, just pay attention to who he talks to and what kind of business deals he mentions.’

‘Now I’m a spy?’ My fingers cradle my forehead as I stare at the food growing cold on my plate.

Pop puts his paper down long enough to look at me, saying, ‘It’s not spying. It’s gathering information that’s useful to our family.’

‘Why aren’t either of you worried about the break-in last night?’ I ask them, desperate to shift the conversation away from their plan to use me for Mafia espionage.

‘Because there’s nothing important enough to steal out of the office. Worker files and personal information, banking and finance stuff, it’s all here in my office. What are they going to take? Bills?’ Pop tells me, raising his shoulders with indifference.

I’m already tired of this conversation and this day needs to start. ‘Are either of you heading to the site this morning? I left my car there over the weekend and Valentino insisted on dropping me here last night after we ran into the burglar.’

‘Why don’t you call him to take you to work, Lia?’ Ma asks with a smirk. ‘This will be a great chance for you to make another date with him and get some information we can give to Don Caputo.’

‘What was the point of putting me through this weekend if we still have to give him money and my time? I’d rather pay the money than risk getting close to Don Barrone, stealing information from him and delivering it to Saul. If Valentino catches me … do you have any idea what he’ll do to me?’ I ask them.

They look at each other briefly, as if it’s only now crossing their minds that Valentino can be a dangerous adversary. If Val believes I’m using him to benefit Saul, who knows how that will end for me?

No.

I know how that ends. Death, destruction, and chaos. Besides, the idea of betraying Valentino doesn’t feel right. Still, I can’t just tell my parents I won’t do what they need.

‘Don Caputo will protect you from Don Barrone, Lia.’ Pop is adamant in his tone, but he has no clue what they’re asking me to do.

I won’t do that to Valentino. I’m not going to jeopardize my life.

I have to convince them to get away from Saul. ‘We should go to the police. Surely, the extortion, intimidation, threats of violence, everything that Saul’s done to us will be worth something to them.’

‘No,’ Ma says. ‘Not only will your father get locked up, but you might get into trouble too. They’ll consider you an accomplice or something like that because you’ve helped us keep this secret. It’s best if we keep our mouths shut. Let’s just do what Don Caputo is asking us to do. We don’t have to pay him every week anymore because getting him valuable information about Valentino should be enough.’

‘Enough to what? Do either of you see an end to this in sight? You know what? Forget I asked. You’re just happy with not having to pay Saul every week and getting to keep the money Valentino paid for me. I gotta get out of here. I’ll be at the site at some point today to get my car,’ I tell them as I push myself away from the table.

It’s the first Monday morning that I can think of where I’m not going to a construction site. My phone is buzzing with notifications as soon as 8:00 a.m. rolls around and I’m nowhere near Saint Bartholomew’s. They can run it without me for a day. Still, I don’t want to leave our workers in a lurch.

After letting Pattie, our foreman, know that I won’t be in, I decide to call the only person I know who doesn’t work a typical nine-to-five. When my cousin Frankie picks up the phone, the sleep in his voice comes through loud and clear.

‘Someone had better be dead or something had better be on fire for you to be callin’ me at the ass crack of dawn, Lia.’ He grumbles into the line.

‘Dawn? It’s damn near nine in the morning, Frankie.’

He groans as I hear him moving around. ‘I just went to bed two hours ago. Girl, what is going on? You never call me this early. Wait a minute. What did your folks do? Is Get Sweaty Eddie making you take a Zumba class with her again? Do I need to fake an emergency?”

Frankie drastically changes the tone of his voice, sarcastic and monotone, saying, “Oh no, come get me. Please rescue me from my monstrous bed and demon pillows. Bring food when you get here.’

Laughter is inevitable any time I talk to my flamboyant cousin. Even in his sleep, he’s liable to make light of any situation.

‘Thanks, Frankie. I’ll be over in a few.’ I tell him with a smile.

‘You got it, girlie. I’ll leave the door open for you.’

‘Open or unlocked?’ I ask him.

He snarls into the phone. ‘Girl! Bring your ass and stop messing with my sleep. Food, coffee, you, hurry.’

Frankie hangs up the phone before I can say anything else to keep him awake. He knows it’s going to take me a while to get from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and I do want to make a few stops along the way.

My first stop is my apartment. It’s a cozy little one-bedroom a few blocks away from my parents’ house. It’s on the first floor of a row home, similar to the home I grew up in, but split into three apartments. I can walk there to change my clothes before heading out for the rest of my day. However, there’s an eerie feeling washing over me that someone’s following me.

Every time I peer over my shoulder, nothing looks out of the ordinary. It’s the regular sights of people moving around the city. Each and every pedestrian is minding their business, ignoring me, and making me feel like I’m overreacting from last night. What if Saul has someone watching me?

I’d give anything to feel as safe as I do with Valentino around. I can’t believe my parents want me to spy on him. Still, I make my way home, shower, change, and get myself to the construction site where my car is still in pristine condition, thankfully.

Well, pristine is a stretch for the nine-year-old used Chevy my dad gifted me four years ago when I graduated high school. It gets me around without relying on public transportation. I appreciate the convenience as I zip across several side streets to one of my favorite bakeries.

Desta’s Crumble has the best pastries I’ve ever had in my life. I grab a few of my favorites from the shop. Croissants, iced caramel coffees, and a few other treats sit in my passenger seat after leaving the bakery. Next, I make my way to the Lower East Side, where my cousin Frankie Mirante is waiting for my arrival. Thankfully enough, our family business securing construction contracts for the city earned me a parking permit that lets me park practically anywhere. It comes in handy as I arrive at my cousin’s apartment building above a florist shop.

However, even with a parking permit, I’m still a few blocks away from the apartment. After shooting Frankie a text to help me bring up the bags, he comes down to greet me shirtless, in sweatpants, bare feet in slides, and his curly black hair damp.

The glares of the people eyeing him as he throws his arms around me make me uncomfortable. But these people don’t know we’re family. He practically crushes me under his muscular hold, causing me to tap him on the shoulder to put me down.

‘You look fantastic, Lia. Girl, what have you been up to?’ he asks, taking the box of pastries from me.

I laugh, feeling more bashful than normal and wondering how much I want to tell him. ‘Letting the Bonetti Brothers work me to the bone as usual. But what are you talking about, ‘I look fantastic’? Look at you! When did you get ripped? We used to be such good chunky buddies. Hence, the pastries. That’s what I thought you meant when you said, ‘bring food.”

‘Now, we’re a couple of baddies. And I still eat, Lia. Come on. A pastry is fine as long as I have a stupid amount of sex to burn it off. Kind of like last night.’ He laughs as he pushes against a door beside the storefront window of a florist shop.

Frankie’s apartment is a rent-controlled two-bedroom that he inherited from our grandmother. It’s above a florist for now, but in a few years, that business will undoubtedly change to something else. A lot of things come and go in New York, but a rent-controlled apartment is forever.

Once we’re inside, the living room and kitchen take up a small amount of space in the front. Light brown parquet floors creak under my feet, reminding me of the sounds from my childhood. Touches of Nonna are everywhere, from her oven mitts with vine tomato designs to her matching hand-painted olive oil bottles.

The L-shaped apartment brings back a flood of memories from our childhood. Frankie’s room is at one end to the right of the open kitchen and living room. Nonna’s old room was straight ahead from the front door. It makes me smile knowing my mother grew up here, long before she was a Bonetti. However, the feeling is fleeting as she’s partly the reason why I’m in my current situation.

There’s enough room that lets us plop down on the sofa and set up our breakfast of coffee and croissants. Frankie tosses his hair over his shoulder as he digs in but stops once he sees I’m not enjoying the food alongside him.

‘What’s really going on, Lia? Remember how well I still know you.’

I pause, looking around to see if anyone else is in the apartment. ‘Is the person you burned all those calories with here?’

‘Jake will sleep through a hurricane and a tsunami, but luckily for us, when you called, he took the hint to go sleep in his own bed, in his own apartment. So go ahead, spill it. What happened?’

‘I finally lost my virginity,’ I tell him and pause, waiting for his reaction, but there isn’t any.

Frankie’s hair sits right at his shoulders, with half of it tucked behind his ear. The softness of his gray eyes against his angular clean-cut face makes him the perfect model type for a cologne campaign. His flamboyant nature and nurturing demeanor toward people he cares about speak volumes. After everything he’s been through, he doesn’t have to be a delightful person. But he is, and I know he’s waiting for me to tell him if losing my virginity is a good thing or something to worry about.

‘I liked it. Loved it, in fact.’ I admit with flashes of Valentino bringing me to multiple orgasms over the weekend.

‘Good. A great first experience is way better than a horrible one.’ He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. ‘So, who was it?’

‘Don Valentino Barrone.’

‘Wait a minute. Are we talking about the same Valentino Barrone who caused an uproar a few years ago because he made the list of richest businessmen in America and people assumed it was from his La Familia connections?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How and when did you cross paths with him?’

A part of me wants to lie, but I need to tell someone without any skin in the game what’s happening. I need someone on my side because I feel alone from every angle of this shit show. Still, I don’t want Frankie to judge me or to be upset with his aunt and uncle for putting me in this situation to begin with. If I open this can of worms, I’ll have to tell him all of it because I don’t think I can lie to him about any of it.

Fuck.

However, before I can get into the details, three loud knocks on his door force us both to snap our faces toward it.

‘Are you expecting anyone else?’ I ask him.

Frankie pushes himself off the sofa to answer it and when he looks through the peephole, I hear him muttering under his breath. ‘Holy fucking shit. Speak of the devil.’

Frankie opens the door to reveal Don Valentino himself on the other side, and he’s pissed.