Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“What do you want to watch?”

“Legally Blonde.”

Oh Christ.

Somewhat regretting my idea already, I choose the channel and prepare myself for an hour and a half of Reese Witherspoon’s ridiculous face. But it works. Maya laughs at the screen, the sound shaking through my body. The movie is boring, but I’m content just to hold her and watch the mirth on her face. The couch squeaks as she moves her body. She rests her head against my chest and her eyelids flutter.

“So tired.”

“Go to sleep.”

She murmurs something and I’m just content to stroke her arm, my eyes heavy. I lie there, my fingers slowly kneading her until I’m lulled to sleep, too.

MAYA

The warm, humid air clings to my skin as I walk down the street in a short cocktail dress. I take Johnny’s hand, forcing him to slow down and walk by my side. The night hums with the slight buzz of packed bars and happy voices. We pass by a closed restaurant and he grins at me before pulling me behind a privacy screen of the outdoor seating.

“What are you-?”

The backs of my legs hit the wooden bench next to the folded-up chairs, and he climbs on top of me, silencing me with his lips pressed against mine.

Damn it-it’s instant heat between us. Or at least, I feel it burning my chest. The heat is right above my heart, which flies like a bird.

He pulls back with that crazy, animalistic look in his eyes and bends swiftly to kiss the swell of my breasts-and bite.

“Johnny!”

A growl rumbles in his throat and then he sucks in air, straightening from me. He pulls me to my feet effortlessly, and I bump into his chest. Then he reaches a hand under my dress and gives my ass a squeeze.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Jesus Christ.

“You look hot.”

His voice creeps inside me as his hand lingers on my ass.

“Tonight’s for going out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He promised he would take me out so we could get to know each other a little better before our engagement party, although I doubt he really gives a shit about getting to know the finer details of who I really am. Still, I can’t be mad with him. He’s making an effort.

My insides simmer as we walk down the street, hand in hand. According to Johnny, my father’s people would snatch me the moment I strayed from his presence. I know they’re here, watching me, but I don’t really mind. I’m desperate for news about my mom, and Chuck.

I follow Johnny without really seeing where I’m going, full of doubt. Weeks ago I was following my dreams. The classes for beauty school started a week ago, and it’s hard not to feel a pang for what I’ve lost.

Now I’m just a pregnant mob fiancée destined to become the don’s wife.

Johnny stops walking and I nearly crash into him. I look at the tiny hole in the wall. Napoletana.

“This is one of my favorite places.”

I’m skeptical as he leads me inside, eyeing the amateurish painted mural on the wall and the plastic green-checkered covered tables.

“How’d you find this place?”

“My father took me here all the time.”

We squeeze through the narrow entrance and Johnny heads toward an open table in the side room where it’s a little quieter. He pulls back the chair for me and I sit down. Then he circles the table and sits across from me. A passing waiter notices him immediately.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Cravotta.”

He gives him a little nod of his head and the waiter returns with two menus and a bottle of wine. The waiter pours just a small amount of wine and Johnny tastes it, nodding in approval. Johnny looks at me across the table and smiles as the waiter pours him a full glass. When he goes to fill mine, Johnny makes a stopping motion with his hand.

“She can’t drink.”

That’s right. Shit.

My hand unconsciously curls around my stomach. “I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant.”

“I haven’t.”

He surveys me across the table, the low visibility obscuring half of his face in shadows. Then the waiter lights one of the candles and softness flickers over his tanned skin.

“Are you-are you scared of becoming a father?”

I know I don’t feel ready to become a parent. Johnny mulls it over with a slight smile and shakes his head.

“No. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

It just doesn’t compute. Why would a sex-crazed mobster want anything to do with kids? Why have anything get in the way of fucking as many women as he wants and going out all night?

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t feel like a whole man. There was something missing-a void.”

His black eyes blaze with restless hunger as I curl my hands over the table. I can’t identify with that. I was just trying to have fun, to get out a little bit, not sign up for a lifetime of domestic bliss.

“But you don’t even know me. I might be a terrible mom.”

He shakes his head, smiling.

“I might smoke and drink while I’m pregnant-beat the kid or something.”

“I don’t get the crazy vibe from you.”

I don’t get any kind of vibe from you.

“What makes you think that a baby is going to fill this void of yours?”