Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“Oh, Maddon!”

A chorus of laughter erupts around me as Maya takes a timid step forward, her eyes dark with eyeliner. She wears a white tank top that puts her tits on display, and I think I can make out one of the bruises I gave her with my teeth, still yellow on her skin.

Down, boy.

“We need to talk.”

I raise an eyebrow as the guys seated around me give me knowing smirks, because that’s basically code for, I’m pissed off.

“This isn’t the best time, hon.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s urgent.”

I roll my eyes, but inwardly I’m uneasy. What made her desperate enough for her to come all the way here?Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“All right. Guys, give me a couple minutes.”

They stand up and scrape back their chairs as they move away. Maya shakes her head when I pat the seat next to me.

“We need to talk in private.”

It has to be about her fucking father, right? Now I’m pissed off at myself for allowing this stupid affair to continue the moment I found out who she was. It was fucking risky. I’m endangering my relationship with Les Diables, but I couldn’t help it. Just had to have her. Even now my blood pounds through my veins as if I’ve had too much wine. She has that effect on me.

“Okay, let’s go into my office.”

So that I can fuck your brains out.

I stand up from the booth, unable to tolerate another second of being next to her and not touching her. I palm the small of her back, and she stiffens.

Goddamn it.

She knows who I am for five fucking minutes, and her attitude toward me does a 180-degree turn. It pisses me off. We walk past the kitchens, and then I open the door to the manager’s office.

Maybe she’s still down to fuck. It’s the perfect place, really. I could bend her over the desk, or have her straddle me in my chair. I realize that I can see the outline of her bra against her tank top. My mouth is dry. Jesus Christ, this girl turns me on without even trying, but she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood.

Her whitened face turns toward me and she takes a big, shaking breath. “Okay, first of all, I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t know who you were.”

So that’s what this is about?

She jumps when I grab the head of her chair, my hands on either side of her. Her nostrils flare and her pupils turn into pinpricks. I’m used to this. Used to people being fucking terrified of me, but I hate seeing it on her.

“Stop.”

“You have to believe that I wouldn’t have said any of those things. Please, don’t take it out on my father.”

A sick feeling roils in my stomach. As much as it’s amusing to see the proud, shit-talking girl grovel at my feet, it’s also-sad. “I liked you better when you didn’t know who I was.”

It’s a fucking cold thing to say, but she doesn’t flinch.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

I’m sick and tired of meeting the same woman everywhere. I liked her when she talked back to me. It was so much more satisfying to win her submission from her, than to receive it immediately like a fucking tribute.

“No! I haven’t even told you what I came to tell you.”

“Well, fucking say it.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “You-you should sit down.”

Now she’s got me keyed up. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. It’s as though she expects me to smack her around. A small shock runs through me when her eyes well with tears. They’re like two dark pools. Tears streak down her face.

Jesus.

The energy goes out of my limbs. I sit down next to her and squeeze the back of her neck.

“What is it?”

But she just can’t say it. She can’t even look at me. Her hands cover her face and she shakes her head.

“What the fuck is it?”

Then she uncovers her face and shoves her hand through her purse. I’m bewildered at her antics. She grabs my palm and shoves something plastic in my hand.

“What the fuck is this?”

There are two of them. They’re rectangular pieces of plastic with positive pink signs. They look like-

Oh fuck.

It feels as though I’m falling. There’s no ground at my feet. The office doesn’t exist. I can only see my shaking hand, holding those two pregnancy tests. Both of them positive.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“It’s mine?”

Her voice seems to come from far away. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. You’re the only guy I’ve been with in years.”

The tests tremble in my hand. I’m shaking. I never shake. I can count on my hand the times I’ve been afraid in my life, but nothing comes close to the threat of actually becoming a father.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“We didn’t use a condom that first time.”