Conquered by the Mafia Boss

His face goes slack as the men scream with laughter.

“He knocked up a boss’s daughter!”

“Good thing Jack is dead, eh, buddy?”

I ignore the elbows digging into my side, the hands clapping down my shoulder, the insidious laughter erupting around me and gaze into Johnny’s furious face.

“You fucking moron, Tony. You fucking dumb piece of shit.” He slams his drink on the counter and grabs my lapels, shoving me against the bar. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I have at least fifty pounds on Johnny, but I don’t lift a finger against him. To do so would be suicide, even though it would be satisfying-so fucking satisfying.

“No one was ever going to find out.”

His face contorts with rage and the laughter dissipates from the bar. “You realize, you stupid fuck, that her ex now has a legitimate beef with us? You fucked his girl.”

“A girl who didn’t want to be his in the first place.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“She’s carrying my kid,” I say in a cold voice. “That’s all that matters. We’re getting married, and that’s that. If that asshole has a problem with it, I shove a gun up his ass.”

Murmurs of approval echo around me and then I know I’ve won.

He lets go of my jacket, still furious, and jabs a finger in my face. “I want a fucking paternity test.”

That might be hard to get.

“Johnny, it’s my fucking kid.”

“I need proof, goddamn it. Word is going to spread very quickly about this-to friends of ours in New York, and that piece of shit has been in my restaurant every day, demanding to know where his girlfriend is.”

Ah, good. He’s still here.

A smirk spreads across my face. “She’s been with me.”

He rakes his hand through his hair. “Goddamn it-crisse de tarbanak de marde de gang des cons. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” He shoves my chest against the bar again. “You have a fucking death wish?”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Maybe I just don’t fucking care, Johnny. I don’t give a fuck about you, or the family, or saving my own damn skin. I do what I want.

I shrug my shoulder as the heart in my chest beats like a steady drum.

“Bring me the fucking paternity test before he asks for a sit-down.”

“Whatever.”

I slide from the stool, ignoring the grins thrown my way as I walk out of the bar. It’s bad to piss off the boss. I know that, but I can’t bring myself to care. Although I’d never admit it, there’s no loyalty in my chest for Johnny. The only person in my life who matters is my mother. She loves me even though I’ve put her through so much shit. She’s the only person I live for.

A flash of emotion chips through and the blood leaves my face.

What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to get killed-this is fucking crazy, and your ma will never forgive you. Ever.

Fifty grand.

With that kind of money, I’ll be able to make sure arrangements for my mother are taken care of. She’ll never want for anything. Then it’s just a matter of waiting.

Waiting to die.

That’s how all our stories end in this life. Fucking pointless, isn’t it? My dad died young and I will, too, because I was a moron and followed in his footsteps.

C’est la vie?

Resentment boils in my chest as I cross the street and head back to my apartment. I don’t like thinking about this shit. I have everything I want, and yet nothing satisfies me. There’s nothing deep going on inside me. Just spades of boredom and restlessness. Emptiness.

I’ve felt like this for a long time.

The urge to stride into Tommy’s bar and find someone else to fuck flames inside me for a moment and then quickly dissipates. Why go to the bar when I have a real piece of ass waiting for me at home? Thinking of her brings a smile to my face. Yeah, that whole “no sex” deal we made lasted a grand total of twelve minutes. Who would have thought that Jack’s daughter would’ve been such a great lay? I mean, holy shit. The girl gets me hard every morning. Beyond that, it’s exciting. It’s fucking wrong. I could get my brains blown out just for touching her.

Yeah, it’s fucked up.

Energy ramps inside my chest as I climb the stairs to my apartment, unlocking the door. A rich smell from the kitchen makes my mouth water, and I hang my coat before walking toward it. Elena sits at the table and smiles at me.

“Hey.”

My chest tightens as I smile back to her, and I glance at the pot on the stove.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner.”

Sometimes I wonder if she’s taking this role too seriously. “We’re roommates, hon. You don’t have to cook me dinner.” I shrug at her and sit down across the table from her. “I told Johnny that I knocked you up. He wasn’t very happy about it.”

On the table, her hands shake and she nervously smoothes her hair. “He’ll know-won’t he? He’ll come after you. I still get messages from him every day.”

“Let him try.”

“W-what if you’re not here and he-”

I reach forward and grasp her hand, bringing it to my lips. The last of her bruises only just healed, and I’m glad. A sick feeling filled my stomach every time I saw them splayed over her perfect skin. Fucking jackass.

“I will kill him. I would consider it an honor and a privilege.”

She just melts at those words. I see her struggling to hold back tears as she clings to my hand. The poor girl is lonely as fuck. She’s stuck here all day without anyone to talk to.

“Maybe I should talk to the other guys’ wives. I know Tommy’s girlfriend is from New York, too. Maybe she can help you plan the wedding. At least you’ll have someone to hang out with.”