Page 47 of Forbidden Pregnancy (The Buffalo Italian Mob Family #2)

“ I ’m going to kill you,” she gasps as she grabs for the edge of the pool. I hop up and lean over, staring down Latrice’s bikini top and pretending that I’m not. If Yiayia knew I was like my brothers... spending all my free time with a black girl… she’d go ballistic.

But Yiayia also taught me the most important lesson in life: I can do whatever the fuck I want.

“You aren’t,” I tell Latrice, shaking water out of my hair, “Without me, you’d never have any fun.”

“I still never want you posting about me,” Latrice warns, “My audience is body positive. They’ll think I’m a total sell out if they know I spend all my time with Galanos Pagonis the fat shamer.”

“You say my name like it’s dirty, babe. And I didn’t shame anyone. I simply said that it isn’t healthy for cats to be obese and it makes them ugly.”

“You also got cancelled for being racist,” she says.

I roll my eyes.

“That was exaggerated. I was singing along.”

“You get how that’s still wrong?” Latrice huffs.

“Okay,” I shrug, “I was wrong. But what else is so bad about me?”

“You posted a dick pic to your social media and nearly got the entire account deleted.”

“That was an accident,” I grumble, “Plus, if it didn’t look good, you wouldn’t still remember it.”

Tiger and I did so much coke I barely remember posting the picture. I didn’t even remember taking my dick out. But there were girls. Lots of girls. Fuck. Latrice is giving me that angry little beaver look.

“Stop it,” Latrice protests, her American accent flattening the “O” sound to a crisp. I like her voice, all deep and gravely, with a bit of a twang to it.

“Fine. I don’t know why you care what those people think. They don’t understand how hard it is to be an influencer.”

“You realize we spent three hours by the pool,” Latrice says.

She’s always trying to teach me about ‘privilege’. I don’t get why she wants me to feel so sorry about it. Why would I feel sorry about being better than everyone? Whenever I ask this, she slaps me. I will continue investigating…

First, I need to remind her that tanning by the pool is excruciating labor.

“Yes,” I explain, “We spend hours by the pool. That’s because I have to look perfect. That’s the hard work. Looking perfect 100% of the time.”

Latrice rolls her eyes.

“Perfect. Just because you fit the beauty standards doesn’t make you perfect. ”

“So you don’t like the looks of this?”

I flex every muscle I can at once, showing off to her.

Latrice, for all her ministrations, is a heterosexual woman.

She can’t help admiring my perfectly chiseled physique, nearly forgetting for a moment that she truly believes she’s a better person than me.

Our friendship has to be a secret because to her fans, she’s an angel and I’m the devil incarnate.

“You are such a show off.”

“I’m not a show off,” I say, kneeling on the edge of the pool and offering my hand to Latrice. “I’m perfect . Blond. Tanned. Hot. Any woman I approach would be crazy to say no to me. I can fuck any girl I want.”

“This is exactly why I don’t want people knowing we’re friends.”

“Yes,” I say, “And the mafia thing.”

“That too. But your family is less... murderous than I expected. I think Tisha influenced y’all. That girl has a heart of gold. Did I tell you about the summer she fell in love with a chicken?”

I scoff. Latrice doesn’t know my family the way I do if she thinks they’re all cotton candy and sea breeze. She doesn’t know what I’ve done either. But that’s how I want it.

Latrice is wrong about us. Even Tisha has a dark side.

Latrice doesn’t know I’ve killed. She can’t ever find out. I had to do it. Family is everything. Carlotta always got me great deals on coke and I enjoyed beating the shit out of a few of her boyfriends. Even the people I hate and torment are precious to me. Now that I’m older, I understand .

Yiayia needs me like this so I can do the dirty work required of Pagonis men. Liquor plagues Loukas and voices plague Stavros. Helen and Cass are both Pagonis women — sharp, commanding, but insistent on keeping their brothers at arms length. They are not suited to this work anyway.

Our family needs a man who can kill and plot and keep his cool. Yiayia wanted that person to be me. She finally has her wish. It’s nice to forget what I do for a while. And focus on a beautiful woman… who I can never touch.

Latrice sits on the edge of the pool next to me. I’m eager to sneak off to the bathroom to do a bump of coke. Latrice doesn’t do drugs. She prefers getting high on life.

I prefer stimulants and alcohol. I quit smoking when Carlotta lost her eyesight because she quit and needed support. I miss cigarettes. I have a secret stash for emergencies, naturally. But I mostly quit for my niece.

I’m not the devil incarnate, even if Latrice and her legions of fans think so. I may not be an angel, but I put my family first.

“Listen,” I ask her tentatively, knowing that Latrice will probably say ‘no’ to my request, “I need you to come to the nightclub tonight. I need you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because...I need assistance with a very important task. Plus, I need a date. Carlotta’s dating some creepy Vogue Italia model, Cassia’s bringing Sandros, and Antonio’s boyfriend is in town. I can’t be the only one not to have a date. I’m a Pagonis.”

Latrice rolls her eyes.

“You’re so narcissistic.”

“Women like it.”

She glances at the water bashfully, the long hair from her wig dusting the surface of the water. Her round face scrunches up as she considers my request regarding the baby shower.

“You have to tell your family we’re just friends,” she says, “I don’t want people to think we’re dating... like ever . It’s already weird enough that I’m staying at your place.”

“We sleep in separate bedrooms.”

“Probably because I lock my door,” Latrice mutters.

“What are you implying, Latrice?” I lean forward and smirk, biting down on my lower lip and causing her to glance away nervously.

“I’m not implying anything. And I don’t want you implying anything either. But I guess I’ll come with you. I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Perfect,” I tell her, “Thank you, babe. Come inside with me.”

“I’ll stay out here,” Latrice calls, “it’s nice out.”

“Cassia’s bringing some friends tonight. It should be wild.”

“Too wild. Y’all need to learn how to chill. I don’t want to wear an Adidas tracksuit and party until 10 a.m. every damn weekend. I’d better catch up on my beauty sleep. ”

“That’s Thessaloniki, babe. You need to find a nice man to go home with.”

Latrice wrinkles her nose and mutters, “Ew.”

I grin and tease her more.

“Latrice,” I ask, “are you gay? I am okay with all homosexuality.”

“Shut up. Just because I don’t want to screw some gross guy at a club doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian.”

“I’ve never met any of your boyfriends,” I tell her. Which is true. It’s why I like her. No idiot guys around to get in the way of hanging out. Latrice is always there when I want to chill with her.

“I’ve only ever hooked up,” she says, “it’s not a big deal. Shut up, Gal.”

We’re getting into uncomfortable territory. Latrice hates talking about this stuff with me. She’d hate it more if she knew how sexually depraved I was.

Not wanting her to find out is the main reason I haven’t forced the issue of screwing her, even if I think about it constantly.

“Sex?” I ask, “How many guys?”

“Gal, stop.”

“What?”

“I hate how you get like this,” she snaps, standing up, “You do this all the time. Sex. We’re not talking about sex. You and I... we’re never going to go there. So drop it.”

“We’re friends,” I snap back, “Friends talk about sex.”

“Not us. Because you’re a shallow prick who sleeps with anything who walks and I have feelings. The last thing I want to do is make this shit confusing. I know people don’t tell you ‘no’ but let me be the first.”

“I’m not fucking attracted to you, Latrice,” I tell her, “Now. Can we chill for a bit and head out tonight? I’m starving.”

“So am I,” Latrice mutters, “But I’ll stay out here a while longer. You go change.”

I walk away from her red-faced. My Pagonis temper embarrasses me. I shouldn’t snap at her. She’s Latrice. The best friend I’ve had in ages. Yiayia didn’t like me having friends but she wouldn’t like me having friends like Latrice.

Tisha’s cousin happens to be a plus-sized body positive influencer with a follow count in the millions, near mine.

Her manager agreed to let her move to Greece and document her “expat life” and we’ve spent every day together ever since. Best friends? Maybe. As close a friend as Galanos Pagonis could have.

I shouldn’t push Latrice. She barely wants to be friends with me and she’d never entertain the idea of anything more. We keep our friendship secret and I don’t mind.

I’m lying to her, anyway. I mean, I’m usually lying to someone, but this time it’s my best friend. I’m not fucking attracted to her? Lie. I think about her all the time. I have screwed all the models I could get my hands on for the past two years and I’ve chased a high that I could never achieve.

I know what I want but… I bite down on my lower lip and think about Latrice’s comments. Maybe what I think is admiration is only disgust. I don’t understand people. Or feelings. I only understand desire — that heat beneath the skin, the racing of my heart. The wanting.

From the moment I saw Latrice, I wanted her. I knew she would be perfect for what I wanted. I sensed it on her, like a shark smells blood miles away in the water.

Tonight, I’ll have her. I have it all worked out — the way I’ll tell her how I feel.

She’ll move my coke, she’ll spread her legs and she’ll beg me to fuck her.

I have every detail planned. How I’ll kiss her.

How I’ll spread her thighs and allow her flesh to spill into my hands as I bury my tongue in the deepest cunt imaginable.

Ah, Perfection .

Nothing could ruin tonight. And then I’ll take her to Tisha’s baby shower and she’ll agree to be my girlfriend. Maybe even my wife. It’ll be easy once she realizes that she’s addicted to my cock. There is a 0% chance this plan will fail.

I’m a Pagonis after all and I always get what I want.