Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“Nothing happened. I didn’t let him touch me.”

“It doesn’t matter to them!”

His nostrils flare as he looks at me with a tortured look.

Them?

“My boss-all my fucking colleagues are going to think that I’m some fucking joke.”

“You know what really happened. Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks?”

He stares at me for a moment, his face blank. “My reputation matters, sweetheart. If people think I’m a chump, why the fuck should they pay up on time?” His seething heat surrounds me as he grabs my upper arm. “You matter to me. I care what people think of my wife. A man who can’t keep his wife in line isn’t a fucking man.”

“I’m not your goddamn property.”

Then he draws me closer, until my fists are against his chest and a warm smile spreads across his face. “Yeah? That’s not what you said last night.”

I’m amazed at how hot my face gets when he gives me that searing, confident look and the smile that always makes my butterflies out of control.

Tension balls in my stomach as he leads us outside.

It feels like a fist inside me, squeezing my organs until stars burst in my vision. Oblivious to my anxiety, Tony pulls my hand and leads me into the crisp outdoors.

“Where is he?”

I expect Rafael to jump from around the corner, gun blazing.

“He’s probably gone by now. He must know I didn’t do what he wanted.”

Anxiety trembles through my voice. My plan fell apart like a house of cards. I expect to see a shadow of him lurking somewhere, but there’s no sign of him. It makes me uneasy. Tony yanks me across the parking lot and into his car.

Tony makes a few calls while he drives us away. I keep silent as he talks on the phone, trying to suppress the desire to lower my head from the window. Tony looks on edge, too.

Then he stops in front of Le Zinc, and a man comes outside to greet us.

“Go with him inside. I’m going to find parking.”

He says it in a voice that bids no argument, and I reluctantly open the door to walk the short distance from the curb to the restaurant, the man following behind me.

It reminds me of when my dad was still alive. Dad sent his guys to chaperone me to places, usually when he was in hot water. The familiarity calms me down somewhat. The restaurant is closed, but all of Johnny’s people are there, standing in the middle of the dining area. At the sight of the Montreal boss, my insides tighten. He’s never liked me. Tommy stands apart from the guys, his arms crossed. I can feel the judgment rolling from his gaze heating my face.

He still thinks we’re running a scam.

A wide, toothy smile spreads on Johnny’s handsome face. He beckons me closer and I slide into a chair.

“You want anything to drink?”

I still haven’t forgiven him for refusing to help me track down Tony. “No.”

No, thanks, you mean.

The rudeness doesn’t slide past Johnny, who frowns at me, saying nothing. I hate sitting here, being surrounded by all these men I don’t trust. They look down at me. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of a sneer and I wonder if they made their own minds about where I was last night.

Fuck.

French words and laughter surround me, and I wonder if they’re talking about me. It seems like it from the way they glance away from me when I meet their eyes, and the way they laugh with their backs to me. An unpleasant, sick feeling festers in my stomach and I remember what Tony told me.

They want a fucking spectacle? I’ll give them that.

I lift the napkin sitting on the table to my eyes and I screw up my face.

Cry. Cry, damn it.

Sobs break from my throat just as the door from the front of the restaurant swings open. The French chatter drops as my voice echoes through the restaurant, and suddenly Johnny’s hand is on my back.

“What’s the matter?”

“He took me,” I wail. “He took me from the apartment. I stepped outside f-for some fresh air and he grabbed me. Then he took me t-to his motel-”

“All right,” Johnny says in a leaden voice.

“He had a gun to my head. I thought I was going to die.”

I lift my head from the tissue as the men glance at each other, looking more sympathetic.

“He wouldn’t let me leave-”

“That’s enough,” Johnny says.

“It’s not nearly enough.”

Tony’s gravelly voice rumbles behind me, and my sobs subside as he takes both shoulders in his hands.

“Johnny, I got to talk to you.”

“All right. Let’s go to my office.”

He stands up, and to my surprise Tony tugs my shoulders. “C’mon.”

Making a show of wiping my face, I follow Johnny into the back, passing Tommy’s stony face. We file into Johnny’s office, taking seats behind his desk as he takes his.

“Johnny, we need to-”

“Shut the fuck up.”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

My heart jumps at the sudden heat blazing from his voice. His hands grip the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.

“Tommy told me everything.”