Bulletproof Baby: An Age Gap, Surprise Pregnancy Mafia Romance (Mafia Mysteries)
Chapter 1

The sound of jackhammers busting a hole into asphalt and concrete isn’t loud enough to block out the whistles of two guys in hard hats. It’s nearly an hour after their lunch break, and these two are still goofing off.

“Isn’t there some scaffolding you guys need to secure or a pipe that needs to be laid?” I ask them, shaking my head.

“I know exactly where I want to lay my pipe,” one responds while grabbing his crotch toward me.

I roll my eyes because neither one of them sees what’s coming. The slap to the back of their heads as my foreman, Patrick “Pattie” Buchannon, walks up behind them.

“You talk to your mothers with mouths like that?” Pattie asks. “You show Miss Bonetti some respect.”

The men glance at each other and then back at me, eyes wide and ready to do a double take. It’s obvious they have no idea I’m their office manager because it’s not often they see me outside of the site’s claustrophobic trailer office. Of course, the formfitting jeans clutching to every vivacious inch of my frame with an even tighter top leaves little to the imagination.

“Damn, Lia, I didn’t know you were stacked like that.” The younger of the two brings his fist to his mouth, clenching his teeth, and waving his other hand like I’m hot to the touch.

A slight giggle slips from me with a smile at their admiration. “Boys, get back to work. I was serious about securing that scaffolding. There’s been a few ties loosening since y’all like to do pull-up contests for the shittiest jobs of the day. We also need most of the track laid for the gas line today. Any more delays and my father’s going to torch⁠—”

I stop myself from saying anything further because I remember everyone doesn’t have my sense of humor. We already have enough crimes to cover up. If something mysteriously happens at this site, I don’t want to be on the record linking my family to any wrongdoing; joking or not.

“Get to work, fellas.” Pattie encourages them with light shoves back onto the site and a tip of his hard hat to me. I leave the men to their work for the stifling confines of the construction site office. The smell of broken cement and noxious steam pluming from New York City’s underground sewer mixes with the alluring aromas of a halal cart fire- roasting meat.

A wink from one whistler after a glance over my shoulder tells me I need to go back to oversized clothes that hide my 48-38-44 figure. I’m not blind to the power my curves have over men and some women. There have been a few times where cars stop, horns blare, and eyes follow the sway of my hips in whatever direction I’m heading. However, that’s where the adoration stops.

Most men are intimidated, either by my looks or by my reputation as the no-nonsense office manager for the Bonetti Brothers Construction Company. My office happens to be the ten-by-fourteen trailer full of filing cabinets, a private bathroom, and a desk full of invoices. There are vendors to call, sales to approve, and contractors to confirm. However, all of that has to wait when the booming rattle of three hard knocks against the door steals my attention.

Saul Caputo has an energy around him that screams death and chaos. As the don of the Caputo crime family, he shows up to the site every Friday like clockwork.

“Afternoon, Lia.” Saul grins a toothy grin that reaches his sunken, dark brown eyes. The sparse strands of black hair are smoothed back, greasy under the dim yellow lights even as he takes a heavy step inside the trailer.

When he moves to close the door, my words stop him. “Leave it open. You won’t be here long. I have this for you.”

There’s only one drawer in the desk that has a lock on it. The cash drawer is there for employees eager to cash their checks, and it holds a special envelope that Saul is here to collect. It’s thick, and I never bother to look inside to see how much money we’re giving to this animal. All I know is that my father leaves it in the cash drawer every Thursday night for Saul to collect every Friday afternoon.

“You know, Lia, I can be an excellent thing for you and your family. It doesn’t have to be this way,” Saul says.

I pretend to busy myself with the invoices scattered across my desk. I don’t want to give him the opportunity for conversation. Yet, Saul Caputo is the type of man that takes what he wants.

He’s relentless, telling me, “These envelopes don’t have to be a weekly event if you’re willing to give me your time.”

The stench of cigar smoke taints the air around my nose as he leans on the desk to get closer. The yellow staining on his teeth is clear as his grimy tongue swipes across them. A waft of his pungent cologne punches me in the face, and the dirt under his fingernails makes my stomach churn.

Words come out as a defense mechanism. I need to get this guy out of the office and away from me. “We’re very busy, Mr. Caputo. I’m sorry, but⁠—”

He cuts me off, reaching to hook his meaty finger under my chin. My body reacts immediately, backing away abruptly with my hands up, which causes him to mimic the same gesture.

“Whoa, take it easy, Lia. I’m just trying to ask you out to dinner. Dating me, being with me; it will make these Friday afternoons obsolete.”

I roll my eyes. “Somehow, paying you one way or another doesn’t seem like a good deal. Thanks for thinking of me. Um, if there’s nothing else, I really have to get back to work.”

The rage of rejection plumes from him like a six-alarm fire. He looks around the office for a moment. I imagine he’s trying to replace something to hit or throw at me, and then he turns to me. I can see he’s trying to say something, but it only comes out in a grunt of frustration before he stalks out of the office.

A sigh of relief fills the silence of his absence as I get back to work. The only way to get through the day is to keep my head down, glued to the documents we need to operate our business.

Once 6 o’clock rolls around, there are nearly a dozen guys lined up at my desk to receive their weekly paychecks. One after another, I hand out envelopes. When the last worker collects their pay, I stretch out, ready to head home. However, the pair of people I get my darling good looks from darken the doorway.

Milo and Edith Bonetti step into the trailer as if they’re up to something. For them to show up at the end of the workday means they’re about to ask me to do something that will stop me from enjoying the night off. When they pull up chairs to sit in front of the desk, my skin tingles with dread.

It’s not lost on me either that my mother’s carrying a duffle bag at her side. My duffle bag. A duffle bag that my cousin, Frankie, bought when I told him I’d be his gym partner. That was over three years ago. Frankie goes to the gym and I don’t. I never have to be honest. But my parents sitting in front of me are up to something more than trying to get me to tone up. The shiftiness of my mother’s gaze has my body tingling with anticipation. I don’t like the anxiety creeping into my gut.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” I tell them with a quirk of a smile, trying to lighten the mood. The seriousness in my father’s face reads louder than those jackhammers hammering at six in the morning.

“Saul called me.” Milo Bonetti is a man’s man in every sense of the word, but he has a weakness. The women in his life make him do things he wouldn’t normally do. It’s the reason we’re in this mess to begin with. The secrets between him and my mother are enough to keep the likes of Saul Caputo in our petty cash payouts.

I shake my head, ready to deny anything that scoundrel had to say about the way I treated him. “I gave him the envelope. What else did you want me to do? Fuck him on the desk?”

“Watch your mouth talking to your father like that,” my mother, Edith, says with disappointment.

“Lia, honey, there’s a way we can get out from under Caputo.” Dad’s voice is low because I assume the answer is something that involves me.

There are five people who know why Saul Caputo comes into the trailer at the construction site of Saint Bartholomew’s Community Center every Friday. One is dead, one is Saul, and the other three are in this trailer looking at each other at the end of a workday.

I can feel the anticipation, the weight of what they’re about to ask of me. I tell them. “I’ll be a stripper in a Bronx basement before I do anything to pay off a debt to Saul Caputo.”

“Lia.” My father’s sigh is heavy enough to sink a ship. “You’re beautiful. A lot of guys would give their dying breath to be with you, and that’s what I’m counting on.”

“What?” Confusion ripples through me.

“There’s an event tonight, baby.” My mother picks up where Dad left off. “Think of it like charity. Mr. Caputo told us about it. It could net us a hefty sum to pay him off.”

“You’re both here, so spit it out. What do you need me to do?” I ask impatiently.

“It’s at the Belvedere Plaza,” Dad says with hope, as if the extravagant venue makes their impending request palatable.

“Okay, and?” My eyebrow raises for them to say the words out loud.

Ma speaks softly. “It’s an auction, Lia. Saul says that if you take part, he can bid on you. The winner of the auction gets to spend the weekend with you. The money collected from your bid would put a significant dent in our debt. Saul would give us the video footage he has and we wouldn’t have to pay him every week. We can operate freely again.”

“And all I have to do is give up my time.”

And my virginity.

The words play silently in my mind because I have a feeling that’s why Saul’s so into me. New York City is a haven for the beautiful and downtrodden. The don of the Caputo family can have his pick of beautiful, voluptuous women who actually want to be with him, but he wants me, a 22-year-old virgin with thunder thighs.

Dad runs his hand through his balding gray hair. “There are going to be some people at this thing worth a ton of money. There’s no doubt that any of them can outbid Saul, but you have to be there.”

“You’re betting a lot on the idea of someone willing to stand up to Saul Caputo. Isn’t this the same guy who killed someone while in police custody and got away with it? He’s untouchable. You think someone’s going to outbid him?”

Dad waves his hands to get me to stop. “Those are just rumors. We all know the price of rumors, Lia. The other people at this thing tonight will see the value you bring and outbid him.”

“Right. Swap one asshole out for another.” I shake my head.

Mom huffs out a breath. “Listen. Someone else will outbid Saul for you. If they try anything you don’t like, we can hit ’em with a lawsuit, criminal charges, you name it. Just know for anyone you do like, there’s screening and testing for everyone on file.”

“Great, so at least the person swapping spit with me will be clean … if I fucking survive,” I reply with disgust.

Mom pleads with me. “I would take your place if I could, Lia. The auction is for virgins. We need this money to get Saul off our backs. If you don’t do this, Lia, Saul’s going to take the business and your father’s going to prison. It’s a few days.”

“A few days and a piece of myself I’ll never get back. I can’t believe you two are asking me to do this.” My stomach churns from the idea of Saul being anywhere near me, let alone stuck with him for longer than a few minutes.

A far more chilling thought is my father fighting for his life in the penitentiary, while Ma would be out here trying to salvage the family business. She slides the duffel bag by her foot closer to the desk. That’s the answer to every question I have.

Our family will never get out from Saul Caputo and if my time, my virginity, is the price to pay, then so what? I do what any dutiful daughter does. Daughters throughout the centuries have done far more for much less. I do what I’ve always done. I sacrifice the vision of my future for the sake of my family and throw in my virginity for the fuck of it.

Inside the duffle bag is a pair of my favorite designer stiletto heels with a formfitting gown I buried deep in my closet. The last time this dress saw the light of day, my father threatened to murder everyone who saw me wearing it. There are a few other items to get me through the weekend, which only tells me I need to change the locks on my apartment. As I sift through it, it also tells me my life is so predictable my mother knows exactly what I need to get through the next few days.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Lia.” Dad’s eyes dart around the trailer, desperate to focus on anything but me.

I’ll do anything for my family, but I need to make sure. “If I do this, and Saul makes the winning bid …”

A tremor of despair ripples through my body, waiting for the answer.

“If Saul wins, he only wants the time he bids for. Nothing more and nothing less,” Ma says.

A weekend alone with that sleazebag is worth a lifetime of freedom; for our business, our family. More importantly, it keeps my father out of prison. The leather handles of the duffle bag are as cold as my parents’ request. I give them a scathing look of disapproval before walking off the construction site into a waiting car. The minute I slide into the back seat, Saul Caputo sits with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Is this some attempt to kidnap me? I’m not just going to go along with whatever this is. What about the auction?” I ask him. My words come out rapidly as my adrenaline spikes. Fear has me eyeing every window and door, wondering how hard I need to kick to get out of this car.

“Relax, my dear Lia. I’m keeping my hands to myself until the precise moment you scream ‘Yes Saul’. Besides, adding you to the auction is going to do a lot for my reputation. It’s going to do even more when I outbid everyone there for you. Don’t worry. Once you see the power I wield over these bozos, you’ll be begging to be my woman.”

There’s a hint of delusion ringing through his words, but I keep my opinion to myself. Even as we arrive at the luxury hotel overlooking Central Park, my mouth stays shut. The last thing I want is for my temper to make me say anything I’ll regret.

Saul escorts me through the lobby and to the elevators. No one’s stopping him. No one’s paying attention to us as we ride up to the penthouse floor. A man wearing a suit stands in front of a pair of ivory-colored doors at one end of the hall. Saul nudges me toward the guy.

“Let her get ready and then bring her in, Bruno.” Saul says to the guard. The guy nods and opens the door into the lavish suite.

The view is breathtaking, but I can’t enjoy it. There’s a table full of food with a king-sized bed. The burly bouncer pokes his head into the suite. “I wouldn’t eat. Most ladies get sick. Nerves and stuff. Everything you need is in the bathroom. Please don’t cause any problems. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

“I won’t.” I assure him. He backs out, locking the door behind him.

Twenty minutes doesn’t give me much time, but it’s enough to shower and slip into the black minidress my mother brought to me. It hugs every inch of my frame like it was made for my body. The soft ruching drapes over the midsection to the side, giving me the perfect silhouette.

By the time Bruno pokes his head in, his reaction is exactly what I’m going for. He keeps quiet, but the way his eyes take me in from head to toe gives me a glimpse of what’s coming.

Whatever’s happening at this auction is already underway. There are only a few men walking around the two-level suite next door, all of them donning expensive suits. Wall-to-ceiling windows stretch nearly fourteen feet high with insane views of Central Park and the skyline of Jersey City across the river.

My heart races as Saul approaches me with his arms outstretched and a grin. Happiness lends a level of creepiness to his jagged smile as he speaks, “You look better out of those gritty clothes and even better on my arm. I can’t wait for these assholes to see you leaving with me too.”

The sound of someone laughing behind me captures my attention. In the seconds I steal a glance over my shoulder, the powerful gaze of sharp blue eyes holds me in a trance. Tattoos peek from under the cuffs of his sleeve as he reaches his hand beyond me toward Saul. Saul looks at the stranger’s ruggedly large hand with disgust.

“Leave it alone, Barrone.” Saul snarls before wrapping his grubby fingers around my wrist and pulling me to the center of the room. “She’s mine.”

The stranger’s words reach me before Saul. “We’ll see about that, Caputo.”