The Perfect Con (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Confessions Book 1) (17 page)

* * *

U
ncle Ronaldo was
by the pool when I arrived at the estate, basting in coconut oil like a shiny golden sausage. He was wearing a white Speedo and sunglasses, but he must have not been asleep, because I hadn’t even made it to the tiles before he broke out into a grin and struggled to reach a sitting position.

“My favorite niece!” he boomed, arm flailing in the air to counterbalance his generous physique. “What are you doing back at this dump? I thought you went home!”

“Uncle Ronnie.” He clapped one of my hands between two of his and I leaned closer, kissing both his cheeks. “I did go home for a few days. I needed to get my head together, and before I really could, I got arrested.”

Uncle Ronaldo’s jaw dropped. “Ay, Dios mio!
Arrested?” he breathed, as if the news was just staggering. There it was. The little ballerina princess who could do no wrong. How many dumpsters did I have to set on fire? “Arrested for what? For God’s sake, by who?”

“I was arrested in Port Primavera, but then released,” I explained. “They detained me because—because someone gave them my name.”

“Since when is that evidence?” Uncle Ronaldo sneered, blowing past the issue of my potential involvement completely. That was the Castillo way—maybe you were there, and maybe you weren’t there, but either way, you were “never there.”

“It’s evidence when they find the guy with the fingerprints from the heist at your apartment.”

“Circumstantial, at best!”

“Uncle Ronnie—they let me go,” I reminded him. “They let me go because someone else who was involved came forward and confessed. He—he took my place.”

“Well, thank the lord for that.” Uncle Ronnie actually smiled at me. He smiled. Like it was all over. “Now, my little sugar dumpling, we need to talk about what sort of action we’re going to take against the Port Primavera police department, to do this to you. Just look at you.” He panned his hand in the air over me. “You’re normally the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but right now, I’m not going to lie to you, you’re a mess. You look sick.”

His mention of sugar dumplings hadn’t helped. “I’m…” Jesus, spit it out. Quick and painless, like ripping off a bandage. “I’m pregnant.”

Now I had his real attention. Theft and jail? A little dull for poolside gossip. Betrayal and sacrifice? Just another day at the office. But pregnancy. For pregnancy, he would take off his sunglasses and really look at me.

“Pregnant,” he reiterated, somber now. “Who’s the guy?”

I swallowed. “The same guy sitting in that jail for me right now.”

“Ah, jeez.” Uncle Ronnie put his elbows on his knees and groped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll help him out, all right? This isn’t over yet. My new itty bitty great niece—or nephew!—isn’t going to grow up a bastard, I’ll tell ya that.” Uncle Ronnie pulled out his cell phone, and I honestly have no idea where he could have possibly been keeping it. He flicked his finger over the screen. “What’s the boy’s name?”

I hesitated, remembering what Madeline had said about the two families.

“Battista,” I blurted. “Leonardo Battista.”

Uncle Ronnie’s eyes moved to me. He stopped messing with the phone. “Leo Battista,” he repeated. “That’s not a boy, Sofi.”

“Well, I should hope not,” I said, holding my head high. “I don’t want to be with a boy. I want to be with a man.”

Uncle Ronnie pursed his lips, then said, “I suppose there’s no use in telling you that his family has caused some serious destruction to my territory over the past thirty years.”

I shook my head and frowned at him. “That doesn’t mean anything to me, Uncle Ronnie. You should know that.”

Uncle Ronnie nodded. “I guess it wouldn’t change anything now,” he relented. “He’s still going to be family.” He slanted a look at me. “You know, that boy’s got anger problems. I can’t tell you how I know this, but let’s just say, he ruined a room at one of my hotels.”

“I know. He can be angry.” I nodded calmly. “But—he’s not angry with me.” I spread my hands in the air and shook my head, a little alarmed at how poorly he was taking the news. “Do I have to remind you that this is the man who took my sentence, even though he didn’t have to? I was going to go to jail if it wasn’t for him?”

Uncle Ronnie rolled his eyes and put his sunglasses back on. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I remember.” He settled back in the patio chair and set his phone next to him, forgetting it.

“Weren’t you going to do something?” I demanded. “Weren’t you going to call someone?”

Uncle Ronnie grumbled out a sigh and picked the phone up again. “I guess there are a few calls I could make,” he said.

“Don’t you have that guy on the inside you use when it looks real bad?” I asked.

Uncle Ronnie cocked his head at me. “Just what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, my god!” I sat at the foot of his patio chair and rolled my eyes, burying my hands in my hair. “I already know, Uncle Ronnie! I know all about it, so please, do me a favor, okay, and drop the innocent act about the family. Please, just…just make the call. C’mon. Get him out of there. However you can. Whatever you can do.”

Uncle Ronnie stared at me for a minute—or I think he did, anyway—and then nodded. “Of course,” he said, swiping his phone again. “Of course, pudding pop.”

Argh, pudding pop. “Thank you,” I said, shoving up from the patio chair and making it halfway to the back door before lunging into some bushes.

* * *

I
t seemed abnormally
sunny on the day of Leo’s release, even for South Florida. Everything was kind of—shiny. I had told Uncle Ronaldo that I would stay for the rest of the summer now, but maybe I would stay for the rest of my life. I guess it was a little bit soon to be looking ahead. I hadn’t even gone to my first prenatal appointment, and the father of my children—of my child—might still be kept at the prison on other charges. But, as I drove toward the Battista estate, with the sun sparkling in the sky and the ocean that brilliant azure and the heat just goddamn unbearable, I had a feeling. I had a feeling that comes with wearing your favorite flowery sundress and your boyfriend being released from jail. I felt heady. I felt high.

It had taken a few days to get to this point, even though Uncle Ronaldo had knocked at my bedroom door on Monday night to let me know that “it was done.” Two days later, the evidence locker was compromised, and everything, from Leo’s confession to Spider’s fingerprints, had been “lost.” The case was a waste of time to pursue now, and Leo was free to go. Probably. Unless he punched somebody.

My teeth nipped at my lower lip.

I really hoped he didn’t punch somebody.

I coasted up the drive of the Battista residence and put my car in park. The air was getting thick; I climbed out and peered up at the sky. Rainclouds were rolling in fast. I thought of Leo and pressed my lips together.

I tread up the walk and knocked at the door. When it swung open, my eyes were wide and my heart was pounding, ready for Leo—but Max was the one standing there.

“Max,” I said, my tone reflecting my disappointment with this development.

“It’s lovely to see you, too.” Max braced his forearm on the doorframe and smiled down at me.

“Right.” I crossed my arms over my chest and returned the smile, rolling my eyes. “It’s just that I thought—you know—”

“I know.” He stepped forward, touched my arm, and dusted both my cheeks with a light peck. “Congratulations, mami. Why don’t you come on in? He’s just a few minutes late.”

“A few minutes late?” I repeated, following him into the foyer. “He was supposed to be here by now.”

“Was he?” Gabe’s voice floated from the den. I could only see his bare feet propped on an ottoman from my vantage point—and a remote control in a hand on an armrest. “Time really flies without that guy around.”

“Please, don’t get up,” Max called into the den. “That would be rude.”

The feet on the ottoman didn’t even shift an inch. “Aww!” Gabe cried, the hand holding the remote control on the armrest going limp with exasperation. “She knows I love her!”

Max grinned at me and winked. I returned the smile and traipsed into the den, where, yep, Gabe was still in his boxer shorts. “Lovely,” I chirped, taking my seat on the couch beside him. “So, you’re excited about the news?”

Gabe paused the television and turned toward me, his face going serious. “Let me tell you something, Sofi,” he said. He chucked beneath my chin winsomely. “I was the little angel on Leo’s shoulder this whole time.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I scoffed.

“I was! I didn’t necessarily tell him that he was
wrong,
or that he’d
regret
it,” Gabe went on. “I just asked him if he was really okay doing it. People like our Little Lion—you can’t push them into anything. You have to let them draw their own conclusions.”

“Little Lion,” I repeated, a slow smile curling on my lips.

Gabe winced. “That’s just between you and me,” he whispered.

“And me,” Max’s voice emanated from the foyer.

“We pay your salary!” Gabe cried.

“Little Lion pays my salary,” Max corrected him.

I spent three hours lounging on the couch, rerunning the scenario in my head, being assured by Gabe that he was late all the time—which was NOT true—before I finally got up to leave, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He was supposed to be here. Gabe and Max assured me that their lawyers were picking Leo up from jail, and if anything was wrong, they would’ve called one of them already. But I was done waiting.

I opened the front door and froze. Time froze. The fucking angels sang.

Leonardo Battista was standing on the front stoop, smiling broadly at me. He wore a suit, as always—of course—but the sleeves and the neck were a little loose, a few buttons undone. His hair was still perfectly parted down one side. His eyes were twinkling and he tilted back and forth on his loafers, barely containing his glee. He looked like a dream materialized.

“There she is,” he greeted me.

“Leo,” I breathed, rushing onto the stoop and bracing his face in my palms. “You’re here.”

His arms wrapped around me and secured me against his chest. “A little late,” he agreed, eyes shimmering at me. “I tried to—”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, fingers winding and clutching around his collar. I didn’t care what he tried to do. I had to kiss him right then or I would just asphyxiate and die.

At first, our bodies were rigid with restraint, his lips hard, my back stiff, and then, we unfolded. My hands slid over his chest and his tongue broke into my mouth and we melted together. The outside world melted with us, and I was as loopy as a sleepwalker when the sound of a clearing throat inside the house interrupted us.

“Oh, uh, don’t mind me,” Gabe murmured. “I’m just—I’m just trying to watch my Criminal Minds marathon over the sound of you two, making out.”

“That’s a good—” I began, but Leo grasped my wrist and tugged me out of the living room without exchanging any pleasantries.

Within twenty seconds, Leo’s bedroom door slammed with us on the other side of it. He twisted the lock, but before he could even turn from the door, I was already pulling my top up over my torso. A grin split Leo’s mouth and he cocked his head to the side, watching as my hair filtered back down onto my shoulders.

“I’m in no hurry this time,” he breathed, stepping closer to me. My heart rate amped up.

“Yes, Sir,” I agreed.

Leo descended to his knees in front of me, his fingertips skating over my abdomen thoughtfully.

“What are you doing?” I asked, waiting for a kiss, a bite, anything.

But he just peered up at me and smiled. “Thinking,” he replied.

The smile was infectious. My hands traveled over his, enjoying their roughness, their strength. “Thinking about what?”

“The future.” His eyes never left me, even as he stood. “Sofi—”

“You’ve said enough,” I said, running my hands beneath the shoulders of his jacket and pushing it off his back. Some little part of me still didn’t believe this. “You don’t need to say any more.”

But Leo caught my hands, and his grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. “No,” he said. “I do need to say this. Sofia.” He swallowed, and I swallowed too. The mood slowed, becoming acoustic, careful. “I took all the variables for granted, my whole life. That I could control all of them. I believed in myself—and nothing else. Just me.” He pulled my hands to his chest, pressing them over his heart. “But now…with you…when I met you, it was like—being drugged. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, and I wouldn’t—I told myself it wasn’t real. Up until the last minute, I assured myself that it was just a figment of my own imagination. Like I had just come down with a bug, and I could shake it if I tried.” He reached forward and threaded his fingers into my hair, barely grazing my throat. Still, my skin prickled against the mere space of his hands. “But I can’t.” His hands balled into fists and pulled me against him by my hair. “Even two hundred miles out at sea, I couldn’t escape it. The only break-through I had was that I needed you.”

His lips pressed to mine and I gave in. I let myself believe everything I’d been afraid might not be true. When he touched me, I had to believe it. And I wanted it with an animal ferocity. I wanted him. I wanted the future he imagined when he kissed my belly.