My Unexpected Family by Harlow James

Chapter 8

Silas

“What the?” I step into the living room after a long day of meetings and last minute preparations for the restaurant opening, placing my keys and wallet on the counter as I take in the sight before me.

Chloe is twerking to You Can Do It by Ice Cube, shaking her entire ass as she dances to the music.

And then her voice rings out as she turns her head from side to side. “You can do it, put your ass into it. I can do it, put your back into it.”

And I should be concerned, right? One, she’s five months pregnant and moving like that can’t be safe. And two, why is the sight of her dancing like this turning me on?

I tilt my head to the side, watching her ass and hips move, reminding me of the way she rode me when we had sex, and apparently that wasn’t a good idea as my dick grows hard in my slacks.

“Uh, Chloe?” The music is too loud, so I move to the speaker on top of the television to turn it down, adjusting my erection as I go. “Chloe?”

She freezes in her movement, her shoulders rise, and then she slowly turns to face me, her entire bump on display when I see that her shirt is pulled up.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Uh… dancing?”

“Like that?”

“Um…yes?”

Laughter breaks through my lips. “What the fuck?”

She shrugs and then stands up tall, pulling her shirt back over her belly. “I was bored.”

“Clearly.”

“Hey, you have no room to judge me, alright? Plus, I’m just instilling rhythm in our baby before they’re born, okay?”

Shaking my head, I head back to the kitchen to grab a drink. “Whatever you say. But to that song?”

“The baby can’t make out words yet, so we’re good.”

“If you say so.” I take a drink of my water and then head upstairs to change, debating whether I should jerk off before going back downstairs. The amount of erections I’ve had to tame in the past few months should be startling, especially when I get one every time I think about when I kissed her at my nonna’s house—a kiss we still haven’t discussed.

When I come back down, Chloe is nestled into the couch with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, watching a show. “What are you watching?”

“Antique Roadshow.”

“What’s that?”

Her face contorts with shock as a kernel falls out of her mouth. “You’ve never heard of Antique Roadshow?”

“I don’t watch much television.”

Shaking her head, she turns up the volume as a woman speaks about the clock sitting in front of her from the 1920’s. “These fairs pop up all over the country where appraisers come in and estimate the value of antiques and heirlooms that people bring to see if they’re worth anything.”

“I never thought in a million years that you’d be into a show like this.”

She shoots me a glare across the arm of the couch. “I’m trying not to be offended by that.”

“It’s just so…”

“Old-ladyish of me?” she smirks.

“Kinda.”

“Well, one of my foster parents used to watch it, and I got sucked into it with her one day. We never spoke really, but watching that show gave us something to talk about, and I continued watching it after I left that family. My favorite is when people bring on Disney memorabilia, like the really old stuff.”

“You’re into Disney?”

“Oh yeah.” She sits up taller and then concentrates on the screen instead of me. “I never got to go to Disneyland as a kid, and I remember other kids talking about it all of the time since we lived in southern California and it was right there, you know?” I nod, waiting for her to continue. “But once I got into foster care, I stayed with this one family that had every Disney movie on VHS, so I watched them all.”

“Every one?”

“All of them,” she states proudly.

“Which one is your favorite?”

“Finding Nemo.” She smiles. “Dori just cracks me up.” And then she looks over at me. “You know, that might be a cute nursery idea, for a boy or a girl.”

“Yeah, I like that,” I reply, more surprised that she suggested something related to the baby and planning than all of the knowledge I’m gathering about her right now.

“Anyway, so when a Disney piece pops up on this show, it makes me giddy. I love seeing the old toys and souvenirs from the park.”

“Did you ever get to go as an adult?”

Her face falls a bit. “No, actually. When Shayla and I moved away, life became about working and surviving on our own. She was in school, I was working any job I could find, and it just became this thing I wanted to do but never got a chance to. I will one day though, you can count on that.” She focuses back on the tv. “Oh, this lady has a piece of Rose Medallion china!” I watch her practically bounce in her chair. “That shit is worth money!”

She tosses another handful of popcorn into her mouth, ignoring me as she zeroes in on the show. But I’m only watching her.

How can this woman be so simple and yet complex at the same time? How come her affliction for random shows and Disney movies has my heart beating wildly and my lips turning up in a smile? And why does listening to her talk about one of her bucket list dreams have me dreaming up my own?

* * *

I straighten my tie, making sure it looks perfect as I stare at my reflection in the mirror in my closet. My hair is freshly cut, I put on one of my favorite all black suits, and my scruff is neatly trimmed to perfection.

Tonight is the opening of my newest restaurant, and one close to home at that. I’ve travelled all over the country and have opened over twenty restaurants since I took over the company, but this one means a lot.

It’s just up the street from my hometown, and it’s the first one I get to bring someone to that actually means something to me, besides my own family.

It’s been almost two weeks since Chloe had dinner with my sisters and Nonna, and that night was eye-opening in so many ways. When she confessed to me about her parents out on the deck, it was as if a spotlight flashed brightly on why she’d been so reluctant to commit to preparing for our baby. And the truth is, I don’t blame her. In my own way, I’ve avoided letting people in because of my parent’s death too. But now that we understand each other a bit more in that respect, I feel like we’re finally on the same page.

And tonight, I get to introduce her to another part of my world—my business that I work tirelessly to maintain and build—a business that our child could inherit one day. I get to introduce her to my employees and associates in the community as the mother of my child. I know the speculation about her presence will be high, which has me more nervous than the actual restaurant running smoothly.

But then part of me is kind of eager to bring her with me—because I actually want her there.

The woman makes me feel lighter, which is important on nights like tonight. I’ve never laughed as much as I do when I’m around her, and I know other people will appreciate her for who she is as well.

Bringing her into this part of my world has intense feelings running through me, especially as I contemplate how my feelings toward her have shifted since she’s moved into my house.

But who she is to me, outside of the baby we’re having together? That’s still a detail that I’m ironing out. After tonight, I’m hoping I’ll have more clarification on that matter though. Since I kissed her at Nonna’s, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about doing it again. I haven’t followed through with the action, but I have become more affectionate with her—and the truth is, it’s almost second nature to do so. My hands reach for her on instinct, my lips find her temple when she needs reassurance, and my body wants to hold her close after a long day of work.

We’ve been watching football and the Antique Roadshow together when I’m not out working in my wood shop, we’ve been discussing everything about pregnancy that we’re reading from the book, and I went ahead and doubled my order of sour candy since Chloe seems to be more addicted to it now than I am.

And next week, we get to find out the sex of our baby. I know it shouldn’t matter, but part of my heart feels like a boy would bring me a sigh of relief. I’m the last De Luca, and having someone to carry on the name and company later would be ideal. Although, if we had a daughter I would love her just the same, and if she wanted to take over, I would gladly hand her the reins. I know firsthand that a woman can do whatever she sets her mind to—I have three sisters and a grandmother that has shown me that.

Once my hair is in place, I smooth my jacket and tie, and make my way downstairs to wait for Chloe. I told her to be ready by five so we wouldn’t be late, but as the minutes tick by, I’m starting to get nervous.

“Chloe?” I call down the hall, wondering what’s taking her so long.

“Just a minute.”

I inhale deeply as nerves rush through me—nerves for the opening, nerves for how tonight will go with Chloe on my arm.

But they all go away as I hear the click of her heels and turn around just in time to see the strikingly beautiful woman who caught my eyes months ago striding toward me.

With a sleeveless, emerald-green dress on her body that shimmers as the light hits her and sits flawlessly over her bump, she smirks and then closes the distance between us at a snail’s pace. It’s almost as if time is slowing down just so I can appreciate the vision of her walking toward me right now—the sway of her hips, the bounce of her wild light brown hair that she kept down around her face, her long, toned legs with black strappy heels on them.

But it’s her smile that’s holding me captive, forcing my own lips to spread wide with appreciation. And then I dip my eyes down to see her bump—her belly that seems to be growing larger by the day with our baby—and that has pride running through me faster than the nerves were before. I never thought I’d be a man who feels possessive and gratified with the image of a woman carrying my child—but Chloe has changed all of that.

I’m beginning to believe that Wes and Hayes are right—maybe Chloe and I are meant to be, based purely on the fact that she’s had me breaking down walls I’ve erected long ago and I’m not even wanting to fight it.

My eyes zero in on her once more as she comes to a stop a few inches away from me. She looks perfect—perfectly dressed, perfectly happy, perfect for me.

“Chloe…” I clear my throat and reach up to caress her shoulder. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you. I have on underwear that go up to here,” she says, reaching above her hip and snapping the elastic band of her underwear that are way above her bump.

I can’t help but laugh. “Do you feel sexy?”

“With the exception of those? Yes.”

“Good, because you definitely look sexy.”

She smirks up at me playfully. “Already dishing out the compliments?”

“Yes.”

“You know that’s a lot of work for someone who’s already slept with me.” Her teasing tone lets me know she’s joking, but all her statement does is make me envision getting her underneath me again.

“Complimenting you isn’t work, Chloe.”

She bites her bottom lip and then smooths down her dress. “Let’s go, Mr. De Luca. I’m getting hungry.”

God, why does the sound of her saying my name like that have me wishing she’d do that in bed too?

Imagining Chloe and I fucking has been on repeat in my mind lately, but I’m holding strong in not acting on that desire. I feel like I’m pushing my luck with kissing and touching her right now as it is, and even that has me teetering on the edge of insanity. But I have no one to blame for those actions other than myself.

I lead Chloe out to my car, and then head for the restaurant, which is only about twenty minutes away with traffic. When we arrive, I help her out of her seat and then hand the keys to the valet, offering my elbow as we walk inside.

A red carpet has been laid out, with spotlights waving around in the sky. At Al Forno, we don’t take a special night lightly.

Having her on my arm causes many eyes to turn in our direction as we walk up the carpet and photographers take pictures, particularly because I don’t bring women to events like this. Even my ex didn’t attend an opening of a location with me, a detail I’m blatantly aware of as I absorb the fact that Chloe gets to be the first.

However, Chloe draws attention in any room she enters regardless, and tonight is no exception.

“Silas!” Erica, my assistant, strides up to us once we make our way inside, beaming. “The waitlist is insane.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Chloe asks.

“Yes, it is. Erica, this is Chloe.” I officially introduce the two of them. They’ve spoken on the phone, but haven’t met face to face yet.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Gosh, look at you.” She stares down at Chloe’s stomach.

“Yes, feeling bigger by the day.” Her hand slides over the top of her dress on her bump.

“You find out what you’re having this week, right?”

“Hopefully if the baby cooperates. Apparently girls like to be a little shy about it.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing,” I chime in.

“Well, let’s hope the baby is eager to show you.” She turns her attention to me. “I never thought I’d see the day you brought a woman to an opening, let alone one that is having your child.”

“Me neither.” I squeeze Chloe’s hand as it rests in my arm, assuring her silently so hopefully she doesn’t freak out. “But things change, and not all in a bad way.”

She smiles even wider now. “That is true. Well, have a good evening you two. I’ll try not to bother you.” I watch her walk away before directing my attention back to Chloe. “You still hungry?”

“Always.”

“Silas!” The sound of my name coming from behind has me halting in my steps. I spin around to find Nonna traipsing toward me with a glass of champagne in her hand. I knew my family would be here tonight, but for the first time, I insisted on us arriving separately because I knew I’d be leaving with Chloe. And since she walked toward me at the house, I almost forgot they’d even be here.

“Nonna.” I lean forward and plant a kiss on her cheek. “What do you think?”

She admires the room around us. “Nonno and your dad would be proud, mio nipote.” Her hand lifts to cup my cheek. “And you know I am.”

“Thank you, Nonna.”

“And Chloe, you look gorgeous.” She focuses on Chloe, and then the fact that her arm is draped through mine. “The two of you together is just too much beauty for one room.”

“Well, we can’t help that, Nonna,” Chloe teases.

“You’d better let me know right away next week when you find out if we’re having a boy or a girl. I need to get to work,” she declares.

“On what?”

She pats me on the arm and then twists her head in the direction of someone calling her name. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll see the two of you again later, and for dinner again soon as well.” Raising her glass, she says her goodbye and then moves in the opposite direction of the room.

“Nonna has something up her sleeve. Should we be worried?” Chloe asks as I lead us toward the back patio.

“With her, you never can be too sure.”

With one foot in front of the other, I lead her through the restaurant, the décor similar to the Vegas location with fabrics in deep reds and golds, but with a fountain in the middle of the open dining area. Vines climb the walls as well in between sconces lit up with soft yellow light. The mood is a lot more Tuscan here than flashy and ornate to accommodate expectations in Vegas.

A private table has been set up for us in the corner of the balcony where every table is filled with customers—far enough away from the noise, but close enough so that Chloe and I can still enjoy the ambiance and the view of the ocean in the distance. I pull her chair from the table and help her get situated before taking my seat across from her.

“Thank you for taking me here, Silas.” She reaches for her water glass and takes a sip.

“I’m glad to be able to. Welcome to my one-hundred and fifteenth location.”

Chloe nearly spits her water across the table. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. Congratulations! That’s amazing.” The waiter comes by at that moment, waiting politely for a break in our conversation to set our salads down. “Do I not get to see a menu?”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I told the chef and staff to bring us a little bit of everything. I wanted you to be able to sample as much of the food as possible.”

Her face lights up. “Hell yes. I was worried about having to choose what to eat, honestly. It’s very hard these days because everything sounds good.”

“Perfect.” We start to taste the combination of mixed greens, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and a white balsamic vinaigrette placed in front of us. “This is so good.” Her moans of approval instantly make my dick twitch, an effect the woman has on me more and more lately.

“Glad to hear. So, I was thinking…”

She wipes her mouth with her cloth napkin, rushing to finish chewing. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I know we still have some time, but since we’re supposed to find out the gender of the baby this week, I was wondering if you wanted to start discussing names?”

I swallow my food and then push down the words I was preparing to speak. “Yeah, I think we should. Do you have any ideas?”

“I think so,” she replies as more of a question than a declaration. “I’ll think that I have a name I like one day, but then I’ll talk myself out of it.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“And I do that weird thing that teachers do—you know when they have a student they don’t particularly like, so they vow they will never name their child that same name because it has a negative association?”

I chuckle. “I guess.”

“Well, there’s a lot of people I’ve met throughout my life, even briefly, that I couldn’t stand or rubbed me the wrong way, so it’s making it difficult to narrow down.”

“So what are you thinking then?” I ask, smiling at her across the table, intensely serious about this discussion.

“Well, if it’s a boy, I like Axel. And if it’s a girl, Amelia.”

“I like those, although Axel kind of reminds me of Axel Rose from Guns & Roses.”

She smacks her forehead. “I knew I had heard that name somewhere, but couldn’t remember. Pregnancy brain is real.” The waiter comes by and sets a plate of buffalo wings in front of us. “Buffalo wings aren’t Italian the last time I checked, Silas.”

“I know. We don’t even serve these on the menu, but I made sure the chef made some just for you.”

“Wow.” She leans back in her chair and rests her hands on her bump. “You are definitely schmoozing me tonight. Do you have an ulterior motive?” She arches a brow at me.

“Maybe.” I sit up taller in my chair. “But we can discuss that later. For now, let’s keep on this topic of names.” I watch her reach for a wing and then devour it in the charming way only Chloe could do—not charming at all. “I was actually going to ask you if you would have a problem naming our son after my father or grandfather—if we have a boy that is. And maybe incorporating my mother’s name if it’s a girl.” I reach for a wing this time, curious to see what Marco came up with. With one bite, I contemplate adding these to the menu even though they don’t fit the restaurant—they’re that fucking good.

She pauses while chewing and then clears her throat. “Oh. Yeah, I don’t mind doing that. I…I never thought about paying tribute to my parents at all, you know…because of how they died and stuff. But we could do that for you.”

“I appreciate that.” I watch her slide her tongue out to lick her lips, stealing my focus from our conversation again.

“So what were their names?”

I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin before answering. “My father’s name was Lorenzo, which is part of why Valentina’s son is named that, but my nonno was Giovanni. My mother was Jenna. She wasn’t Italian though.”

“Well Lorenzo and Giovanni are very Italian.”

I smile wistfully. “Yeah.”

“Axel Giovanni?” She lets the name roll off her tongue, and then scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “Nope.”

Laughing, I reach for my water as the waiter comes back with more plates. “We have time, but it’s good to be thinking about it.”

“Yes. I agree. You’re almost done reading, right?”

“Yup.” She deposits a bite of pasta in her mouth, sliding the fork out between her lips, chewing before answering completely. “Almost finished actually. And let me tell you, the chapter on childbirth is no light reading material you should do before bed.”

“I agree. Pretty sure I had nightmares that night after I read it.” It’s true. All of the things that could go wrong during birth are constantly in the back of my mind. When people wish for a safe delivery for mom and the baby, now I get why—because having a child is fucking scary in more ways than one.

“I actually think Lamaze classes might be good, or just a birthing class in general so we know more of what to expect.”

“Do they still do those?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“You know I can handle planning a few things, Silas. I’m not a child.”

“I know. I’m not saying that. I want to. I’ll figure it out for us.” It helps me feel like I have some control.

During more conversation, Chloe and I sample so much of the menu that I contemplate unbuckling my slacks toward the end. I’m proud of the food my restaurants are putting out on the tables, but I’m stuffed and feel like I need to walk some of this off. Besides, I’m not ready to go home. I want to spend more time with her now that I have her out of the house and she looks so goddamn beautiful that I can’t stop staring.

“Care for a walk on the beach?” I ask as I stand from my chair and button my jacket.

She stares up at me from her seat. “Really?”

“Yeah. When’s the last time you walked on the beach?”

She tilts her head in thought. “I can’t remember. But wait a second,” she pauses. “When’s the last time you walked on the beach?”

“I can’t remember either.” I offer her my hand and she takes it as she struggles to stand.

“You realize that this is something…” Her eyes peer off to one side, then the other, and then she leans in and whispers with her eyes wide, “fun.”

Her teasing has me full on laughing. “I know, so before I think better of it, we should just go.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. De Luca. I’m just along for the ride.”

Oh, I’d love to take you for a ride again, Chloe.

We settle into my car and then I make the short five minute drive to the beach just as the sky goes completely dark with the exception of the moon beaming overhead. When I walk around to her side of the car, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore in the distance, she has both of her legs hanging out of the door, kicking her feet playfully. “Mind helping me out of these? It’s getting harder to bend over.”

“Not at all.” Squatting down in front of her, I reach for her right foot and pinch the strap around the buckle of her heel, holding her ankle in place. My eyes travel up the length of her leg—those legs, as my younger sister pointed out, that are definitely attention catching. Without thinking, I run my hand up her calf, relishing in the smoothness of her skin, the light freckles I didn’t realize she had, and appreciating the toned muscles she’s walked many miles for.

I can feel her watching me, so before I make her uncomfortable, I retract my hand and then move to extract her other shoe. Chloe clears her throat when I’m done and then I stand and help her do the same.

“Thank you,” she says almost timidly, as if I did make her uncomfortable. Dear God, I hope not.

“My pleasure.”

I toe off both of my dress shoes and pull down my socks, exposing my feet to the asphalt below us, knowing we’ll be in the sand in a minute.

“Oh dear. Your feet,” Chloe says as she stares down at the ground where I’m standing.

“What about my feet?”

“Let’s just say I hope that our kid gets my toes.”

I wiggle mine around. “My feet aren’t that bad.”

“It’s a good thing you have a beautiful dick Silas because those could be a woman deterrent.”

Laughing off her comment, I toss our shoes in the backseat of my Benz, and then lock the door once I shut it, leading us onto the sand just a few feet away. The cold grains of sand squish between my toes, but the sensation feels good—calming and playful in a way.

I truly can’t remember the last time I did this.

“It’s so beautiful out tonight, but you can definitely tell that the weather is changing.” Chloe walks beside me and I can see her visibly shiver as a mist from the ocean floats through the air.

“Are you cold?”

“A little. I mean, it’s early November. This is about the time it starts to get chillier in Santa Barbara.”

“Here.” I extract my jacket as quickly as I can, draping it over her shoulders as she clutches it tightly to her chest. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” The smile she gives me has me memorizing how she looks in this moment—the reflection of the moonlight in her eyes, her curls fanning out around her face from the light breeze, the way her green dress is flowing off to the side as well, plastered to her curves and her stomach carrying our child.

Fuck. She is taking my goddamn breath away.

And I am in so much fucking trouble because I would gladly let her steal the oxygen from my lungs at this point.

My walls are crumbling, and I can’t fucking stop it.

I didn’t want this to happen, and I knew she would have the power to infiltrate my defenses, but Chloe has wormed her way into my world, made a mark on it, and now is quickly becoming the center of it.

Without saying another word, I pull her to a stop by reaching for her hand, interlacing our fingers and then spinning her into my chest, knowing if there were any more perfect moment to give in to her, this is it.

She stares up at me with wide eyes, her breath catching for a moment. “Silas? What—what are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for weeks.” With no further hesitation, I lean down and gently press my lips to hers, lacking urgency and force because I just want to savor this moment—the feeling of her in my arms, the texture of her lips on mine, the way her body melts in my arms as she falls in line to the kiss with me—and a softer kiss is the perfect way to do that.

But then I swipe my tongue across her lips and escalate the kiss. Slow strokes, deep thrusts—I make sure to savor the taste of her, relish in this kiss because this one is different.

This isn’t frantic and desperate. This isn’t a momentary lapse in judgment that I acted upon on instinct.

No.

This is deliberate and meaningful, shifting us across the line that I thought I wanted to stay firmly planted on the other side of.

Chloe’s hands travel into my hair as she drags her fingernails along my scalp, down my neck, and then she squeezes my shoulders, as if she’s trying to hold on to me, bracing herself for what is next.

But I just keep moving my lips over hers, tilting our heads so far to deepen the kiss more, moving in tune with one another, feeling every nerve ending in my body light on fire from her touch.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss, pausing to take a breath and leaning my forehead on hers, but I can feel Chloe trembling in my arms.

“Silas?”

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice husky and desperate—because I’m desperate for more of her, but I’m curious as to what she’s thinking right now.

“Why do you keep kissing me?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I take a deep breath, running my hands up and down her arms as I lean back to see her entire face now. “Because I want to.”

“You wanted to at Nonna’s?”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“Fuck yes.”

“But…what does this mean?”

Swallowing down the frog in my throat, I give her the best answer I can without revealing my entire hand—because my mind is spinning with visions of a future with her, and I just don’t know if I can let myself go there fully yet.

I want to—but my anxiety, my head—is holding me back.

“It means I want to kiss you again, and probably again after that.”

“But…don’t you think it’s going to make our situation more complicated?”

“Our situation is already complicated, Chloe. But what isn’t is the fact that I can’t stop thinking about putting my lips on yours, about touching you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“So how do you feel about it?”

She licks her lips and then bites the bottom one, looking up at me playfully beneath her dark lashes. “I don’t want you to stop either.”

“Then I won’t.”

Our lips meet once more, this time more desperate, more unabashedly honest in our desire for one another—more intense in every way.

Because this is a kiss that we both want, that we both know means more—and that’s exactly how we leave it when we get home later that evening.

I don’t take her up to my room and strip her naked like I want to. I don’t try to press things any further—because a lot like me, Chloe needs time to process things. So that’s exactly what I’ll give her.

And in the meantime, I will hold onto the memory of our night, the vision and recollection of that kiss, until we can both agree that crossing that boundary entirely is the right thing to do.