Conquered by the Mafia Boss

He winces at the shrill sound of my voice, and Ben scurries out of sight. The front door shuts quietly and Jack snaps at me. “You know I can’t talk about my work.”

It’s like an explosion. “Are you fucking serious? Is this how our conversations are going to go for the rest of our lives? I expect a fucking answer when you come home looking like this.”

My emotions feel out of control, like a simmering pot of oil. It takes very little to set me off lately, and I don’t know whether it’s the stress of trying for a baby, his constant injuries, or the fact that I’m carrying something awful inside me.

His eyes widen at me, but my temper flares again.

“Johnny keeps sending you out on these dangerous jobs. I can’t stand it!”

Suddenly his hand shoots out and he grabs my wrist, yanking me so that my face is inches from his. “You’re way out of line, Beatrice. I can’t fucking talk about it. That’s for your sake as well as mine.”

Doesn’t he understand that seeing him like this hurts me? I can’t stand seeing him injured. My eyes rapidly burn and flood over. It’s Johnny’s fault-I know it is. He hates Jack, and this is his way of punishing him.

He sighs, adopting a softer tone. “Stop crying, Beatrice. I’m fine.”

I try to hold it in for his sake. A wave of self-loathing consumes me and I collapse into his chest, pressing my head against his wildly thumping heart. He touches his lips to my head and rubs my shoulder. It feels good, but my nerves are still jangling out of control.

“I couldn’t drive home because of the painkillers they gave me. That’s all.”

I rip myself from him, agony twisting my guts when he gives me a wounded look.

“What the hell is the matter with you lately?”

Everything.

“I wasn’t out on business. This was personal.”

A swooping sensation gives me a sudden sick feeling. “Your brother?”

He gives me a sharp look. “Yes.”

“And?”

He aims a violent kick at the coffee table leg. “And nothing! I’ve got fucking nothing!”

For a moment fear freezes my chest. Then he crumples with despair, holding his face in his hands. I suddenly wish I were the one being beaten up.

I run my hands through his hair, trying not to drown in the well of guilt.

JACK

My arm throbs like a son of a bitch, but I close my eyes and let the pain roll off my shoulders. Last night was a fucking nightmare.

Next to me, Sal wipes his head with his hand, a bead of perspiration on his upper lip. “I’m sorry, Jack.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“You warned me.”

I sprained my shoulder lifting up one of those fat fucks who tried to rob me. Even after Ben and I took care of their bodies, I still had to empty a few chambers into that fat fucking asshole to vent my rage.

“It was a bad idea to go alone.”

“Yeah, well, John’s made it clear that he doesn’t really give a flying fuck about finding out what happened.”

Sal was the one who fed me the information. Some guys from the Popeyes MC claimed they heard about a made guy ordering a hit on someone in the family. He told me it was probably bullshit, but I couldn’t stop myself from meeting them. And almost getting robbed by them.

Another dead end.

I grab the stiff drink poured in front of me, and I toss it down my throat.

“How’s the marriage going?”

I shrug, somehow irritated by the question. “Not bad, actually.”

“Really? You and the biker girl?”

The look of incredulity on Sal’s face bothers me.

“She’s a good wife.” I make myself grin. “Turns out biker wives heel quite nicely.”

“Are you fucking this broad?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with her?”

“Tabarnak. I don’t think the MC will like that.”

The MC can suck my dick.

There are too many guys sitting close to me to tell Sal the truth. She’s not just a club daughter I’m banging. Sure, I wanted to fuck her the moment I met her, but it’s much more than that. I live for watching those blue eyes light up when I come home, and the circle of her embrace. Now she’s a person who I enjoy being around. Fuck, she makes me happy. Why is that so hard to admit?

“Speaking of your wife.” Sal points across the room to Johnny’s table.

A thin blonde woman sits across from my boss, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

What the fuck is she doing here? Why is she talking to my boss?

I set down my drink and immediately slide off the stool, making a beeline for my wife. My mood, always testy these days, is like a trail of fire leading to a barrel of gasoline. I can feel it racing forward.

The look on Johnny’s face momentarily paralyzes me as I get close. He seems subdued. What the hell did she say to him? Beatrice jumps as I walk to her chair, sweeping my hand over her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“She was looking for you.” Johnny smirks at me as he plays with the ring on his finger. A sick, hot swoop of rage hits my abdomen as he meets my glare with a bored expression on his face. “Said it was urgent.”

Her skin looks moist, as though she just stepped out of the shower and dressed herself in a hurry to meet me.

Johnny sits there, waiting for her to speak, but she stands up. Her blue eyes are so wide that I’m lost in them.

“I’ll give you an hour, Jack.”