Conquered by the Mafia Boss

We kiss like two teenagers who just discovered sex. He bites my bottom lip, and butterflies flutter in my chest as he looks at me with that slightly drunken expression.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I love you.”

But a frown descends over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

He rolls on his back and opens and closes his mouth a few times, staring at the ceiling. “You know what’s wrong.”

I rub my arm feverishly. Rafael. He’s nowhere to be found.

“It drives me insane knowing he’s still out there.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. I just-I have no idea what his endgame is.”

Tony’s eyes flick to me, and I almost flinch from the darkness. “You. You’re his endgame.”

I don’t like hearing that. Bitterness curls my lip. “I’m not a fucking trophy. I’m not a goddamn possession.”

“I’m just as possessive as your ex. I just don’t have to hurt anyone to keep what’s mine.” He takes my chin gently, and even though his words should make my blood run cold, they have the opposite effect. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you go.”

I don’t want you to.

We lie there in bed for a while and gradually Tony closes his eyes. Sound asleep. I let him. The doctor said he needed rest, but I can’t rest. My nerves are fucked from being back in this house, where Rafael knows exactly where to find us.

I get up from the bed and grab my phone off the nightstand, which lights up with a new text:

Need to see you. Tell no one, or I go to the police and tell them who really shot me.

The blood drains right out of me. I can almost feel it pooled at my feet.

He has my number from the phone he stole from Tony. He’s still after me.

I look over at Tony’s sleeping form, knowing how enraged he’d be if he knew that Rafael contacted me. He would want to find him, but what if he didn’t? What if he went to the police?

The phone shakes in my hand. I don’t know what to do.

What do you want?

Meet me here. Now.

The text has a map pointing to a motel outside of town. The hair rises on the back of my neck.

No fucking way I’m meeting you there.

Then enjoy prison, I guess.

A shock of cold horror runs through me like a rippling wave. Prison. Either he could link the gun that shot him to me, or Tony.

I just want to talk.

I don’t believe that for a second.

How stupid do you think I am? I’m not going anywhere near you.

I wonder if the guards will let me in the cell with you if I bribe them.

My lip curls as I stare at the screen. Fuck you. I am not going to jail, and neither is Tony. I won’t be lured into a trap.

In the living room, I peel back the curtains and stare into the white streets, heart hammering. What should I do?

I could meet him.

I could kill him.

My heart seizes at the thought. I know I’m capable. I’ll do anything to save Tony and my baby. And I owe him.

Just look at him. Look at what you cost him.

My heart breaks when I look at Tony’s sleeping, exhausted body. He’s been shot, and he’s had one of his molars ripped out all because of me. Rafael’s too smart to be tracked down, but maybe I can do the work for them. For fuck’s sake, I don’t want to rely on anyone anymore. I was Daddy’s girl, but I’m not anymore. I’m not just Tony’s wife, either.

I’m Elena, and I can handle this piece of shit.

I look at Tony, almost wishing he was awake so that he could stop me from leaving. My heart slams against my chest as I gather my purse and slip out the door, locking it behind me.

My footsteps echo hollowly through the mostly empty parking lot. A dirty, dingy motel lays in front of me.

It’s dangerous. I know that, but I’m also familiar with Rafael’s moods. Now that he actually thinks he’s the father of my child, he won’t hurt me.

Too bad I have no problem hurting him.

I knock on the door, legs shaking as the blinds ripple near the window. The door cracks open and I stare into the nozzle of a gun.

I knock on the door, legs shaking as the blinds ripple near the window. The door cracks open and I stare into the muzzle of a gun.

“You’re alone?”

A sliver of a man shows through the door.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get in.”

The door swings open and Rafael beckons me from the darkness. I hesitate, wavering on my feet, and he reaches forward and yanks me inside. The door slams shut and my back hits the solid wood as Rafael presses his angular body into mine, his hot, greedy lips at my neck. Hands touch my waist and a surge of vomit rises up my throat. I shove his chest hard and he stumbles backward.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Rafael doesn’t look as coked out as he has the last few times I’ve seen him. He wears a white tank top and dark-blue jeans, the bandage visible behind the shirt. A pained look crosses his face. For a moment I think it’s remorse, then I notice the way his hand flies to his shoulder. I realize I shoved him where his wound was. Good.