Owned by the mafia boss

MIA

“Don’t touch that!”

Sighing, I bounced from the threadbare couch to chase a curly-haired toddler. He clutched a knitting needle and jabbed the outlet. Sparks flew from the tiny holes. The boy whirled around, beaming.

“Fireworks!”

“Matteo, no. Give me those.”

I plucked them from his chubby grip. His big blue eyes widened when they slipped from his fist. Then he burst into a crying jag that stabbed nails into my brain.

The kid was a handful. I’d stopped him from plunging down the staircase twice. Scrubbed ketchup off floors. Chided him for pulling his sister’s hair. Read him five stories, after which he refused a nap. The toddler would not rest for a single freaking second.

Alessio had offered my services to Michael without my permission, which he accepted. Now I knew why. His kids were brats.

The clock ticked closer to three, which was when Serena would return from her back-to-back salon visits. Babysitting wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but I’d been at it since eight.

I grabbed my phone wrote a text.

Me: If you’re hoping this will warm me up to kids, think again.

Alessio: I don’t intend to raise brats, but with you as their mom? Anything could happen. 😉

A reluctant smile staggered across my face.

Me: You better hope they turn out like me and not you.

Alessio: Preach.

Alessio: BTW, going to be an hour late. 😀

Growling, I tossed the cell aside.

I hated Alessio.

I couldn’t stand his gorgeous face or his velvety growl that stood out in a room of hundreds. Even his eyes weren’t an ordinary hazel. They fractured with rich golds and caramels. Staring into them gave me a fever that started with burning cheeks.

What else did I hate?

His arms, which felt increasingly like shelter. His passiveness during arguments. The way he lowered my guard by refusing to rise to my bait. Hell, I’d yet to hear him raise his voice. Everything about him defied my expectations, and I loathed that, too.

It meant I might be wrong.

The whispered threads of gossip said the same thing, that Alessio Salvatore was a violent, abusive womanizer. If he wasn’t the typical gangster, what then? Would I stop fighting my instincts? Was I supposed to forget Carmela and ride with her fiancé into a vivid sunset where I made out the vague silhouette of a relationship that might work?

I didn’t know.

But my attraction to him grew like an unchecked infection. Doubling every day. Heating the very core of me. My standoff began to feel like a self-inflicted wound. Resisting Alessio gave me nothing but pain.

A loud clang crashed into my ears. I’d ripped my gaze from Matteo for too long. He rattled the fireplace poker against the stand, threatening to topple the entire thing. They needed to kid-proof their house. I seized him before it fell. His ear-splitting shrieks bounced off the ceiling.

“You are too amped up on sugar.” I lifted him onto my hip, brushing his tangle of messy curls. “Let’s see what’ll distract you.”

Serena always shoved an iPad under the boy’s nose and let the stream of YouTube videos entertain her child, but I wasn’t a fan. Introducing a screen addiction to a three-year-old seemed like a bad idea. I didn’t grow up with constant positive feedback, and I was fine.

Already making notes about raising children.

Alessio would be thrilled.

Tears streaked Matteo’s fat cheeks as he reached for the iPad.

“Sweetheart, no. That will rot your brain.” I took his hand as I wandered the hallways. “When you’re a teenager, you’ll have the attention span of a goldfish. I know what I’m talking about.”

I kept everything tidy by picking up their toys. If this became an ongoing job, I’d teach them to clean their messes. My mother had never allowed me to get away with anything. I didn’t see why Matteo should, even if he was super cute.

Seriously, this kid was a pro at manipulation because every time he grinned, I awwed. He could be so sweet.

I led him into the playroom, where his low-maintenance sister sprawled on the colorful rug. Thank God, she wasn’t on a mission to kill herself. Mariette scrubbed a book with bright pink fingers stained with the marker. Her gaze narrowed as I entered with Matteo.

“When is Mommy coming home?”

I raised my brow at the tone. “Soon.”

I put Matteo down, and he ran into a pile of blocks. Mariette released a long-suffering sigh, resigning herself to her brother’s loud presence. I piled boulders into towers that he smashed. The kid was obsessed with destruction. After I’d fetched the fifth block from underneath a bookcase, the unmistakable sound of keys jiggled at the entryway.

Thank God.

“Mommy!”

Mariette started the stampede, hurtling the halls to jump into Serena, who arrived in a cloud of hairspray. A leggy woman decked head to toe in Lululemon dumped her designer purse on the console table, scooping Matteo in her arms. Serena was tall with a swimmer’s broad shoulders.

“There you are, my sweet angel.” She draped an arm around Mariette, who clung to her leg and seemed unlikely to let go this century. “Who wants McDonald’s?”

The children screamed in the affirmative.

“Oh, there’s no need. I baked ziti. It’s in the fridge. Just needs to be heated up.”

I expected a mother of two to show gratitude, or at the very least, look relieved at my offer. Serena rifled through her bag and dabbed a tissue to her pouring nose.

“That’s nice of you, Mia. My husband loves ziti, but I think the kids deserve a special treat for being so well-behaved.”

Was she joking?

Whatever. They weren’t mine. If she wanted to feed them junk, that was her business. Disapproval stoked the embers in my chest as Serena yanked a puffy, pink coat over Mariette’s arms.

“Alessio not here yet?”

“He’ll be here in an hour. Something came up.” I eyed the couch with longing. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect.” Serena dressed Matteo, fumbling with the zipper. “Hold on, buddy. I need to get this on. Mariette, tie your shoes. Mia, sweetie, could you come with us?”

I didn’t mind helping an overwhelmed mom, but damn.

I needed a break.

“Maybe I should stay. Alessio will be here soon.”

“I could use your help.” Serena shook as she tied her toddler’s boots. “Goddamned piece of shit. I can’t-my fingers are stiff.”

“Here, let me do it.” I stooped, tying them for her. “Are you sick again?”

“Yeah.” Serena wiped her streaming nose, which smeared with beige foundation. “I have somewhere to be. I need you to come.”

“Why don’t I hang out here with the kids?”

“It’s really important that you come.”

I didn’t want to, but Serena looked so miserable that I nodded. Between watching her children, cooking lunch, and sometimes dinner, I was doing the lion’s share of housework.

What else could she need?

I would kill Alessio. “Sure. Whatever. Where are the car seats?”

“Oh, they’re already in the van.”

“Give me the keys. I’ll warm it up.”

“No, we’ll leave now.” Serena ushered Mariette and Matteo to the door.

I groaned. The car seats would be frigid. Matteo would cry, and his screams would split my brain. Serena seemed immune to her children’s needs. She was never engaged. Her head was always bent over a smartphone.

We piled into the freezing van. Both children complained about the cold, and I sent a glare at Serena that was ignored. She backed from the driveway, wrenching the gear so quickly the engine whined. We shot into Boston’s frozen streets. I barely paid attention to our destination as we glided under two golden arches.

My thoughts drifted as she parked, making a show out of rifling through the greasy bags. The car filled with the stench of fried food. I couldn’t wait for home-God, I didn’t even think of my father’s house anymore. Picturing that brick mansion, its gorgeous interior, and even more alluring owner blossomed more warmth within me than the heat blasting through the ventilation.

The kids devoured their hamburgers and drank their Cokes. Serena’s manicured fingers made a drumroll on the steering wheel until they finished. Then she started the van, and we lurched out of the parking lot.

“I have something to take care of.” She spoke in a conspiratorial tone that blazed my alarm bells. “It won’t be long.”

I glanced in the backseat as Mariette yawned. “All that sugar and they’re ready for a nap?”

“It’s normal. I used to drive all the time. Helps put them to sleep.”

“If you say so.”

Serena yanked us onto an off-ramp. “Fuck. I almost missed the exit.”

I floated into a lazy daydream of Alessio scooping me in his arms as I nestled into the seatbelt, my feet numbed with cold. A loud bang ripped me from imagining his mouth pressed on mine.

“Shit. Pothole.”

I opened my eyes to chain-link fences and a string of homeless men under makeshift tents. A strip of blue flashed between buildings as she brought us closer to the waterfront, weaving through seedy streets and housing projects. I recognized the port. North Dorchester. Well outside our territory.

“Serena, what the hell are we doing here?” I straightened as she stared ahead. “Serena.”

“It’s fine.”

Fine? What was she thinking, bringing her children here?

Matteo’s comatose body filled me with suspicion. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s sleeping.”

Both of them were. “They inhaled several days’ worth of sugar, and they’re tired?”

“I gave them Benadryl.”

“You what?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s safe. I needed a moment of peace.”

“How much did you give them?”

She waved my concern away. “A couple pills.”

A thrill shot into my heart with the sinking realization that she’d done this before.

“Jesus Christ, Serena. You can’t do that!”

“I’m their mother. Whatever I say goes. So take your judgment and cram it up your ass.”

“They’re kids. If you want them to be quiet, sing them a song. Read them a story. Don’t feed them junk and shove pills down their throats because you can’t handle-are you listening?”

Disgust roiled my stomach as she rolled over train tracks, pulling us through a gap in a chain-link fence. We rode past a dockside building where men snapped to attention.

“Who are they? What are we doing here? Serena, I asked you a question.” I seethed when she parked, wrenching on the brake. “Fine. I’m calling Alessio.”

“Don’t you dare!” She slapped the phone from my hand and clawed it out of reach. Her bloodshot eyes widened with an enthusiasm I’d never seen before. “I need your help. Five minutes, and then we’ll return home. And you’ll never, ever discuss this with Alessio or Michael.”

Was she insane? “We’re in North Dorchester.”

“So?”

“This isn’t our territory!”

“Doesn’t your fiancé tell you anything? Nico made an alliance. We can go wherever we want.”

“Serena, we need to go.” A man in a windbreaker approached the Subaru, and a ball lodged in my throat. “I said I want to fucking leave! Start the car!”

“That’s Fitz,” she murmured, shoving an envelope stuffed with cash into my hands. “Give him this.”

“I’m not going out there.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mia. Step out and give him the money.”

“You do it!” I struck my fingers into the lock as the man inched closer, his curls tousling in the breeze. “I’m not your goddamned errand girl.”

“Mia, please. I don’t want him near my kids.”

“Then why did you bring them!”

“I knew you’d never come with me otherwise.” Desperation leaked into her voice. “Mia.”

“What did you get me into?”

Her eyes glazed with tears. “Go outside.”

“No.”

“Mia, my kids! Please!”

I grabbed for the cell, but the seatbelt yanked me back. “Give me the phone! Now!”

“Mommy?” Mariette stirred from sleep, slurring. “What’s happening?”

Serena whirled, swearing. “Mia, please.”

Damn it.

“You are unbelievable.” I seized the envelope and unbuckled the belt. “If anything happens, Alessio will make you pay.”

I exited and slammed the door. The locking mechanism clicked into place as she started the engine.

“Sorry!”

Oh my God. “Serena, don’t!”This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

I hurled myself at the car and wrenched the handle. It ripped from my palms. I pounded the glass as she peeled away. Dust kicked into the air as she took off.

She left me.

She fucking left me.

Adrenaline sliced my nerves with fire. I dropped the cash and ran. It flipped on its side. The jacketed man scooped the money to his chest. Then he sprinted.

I shot from the docks. My trainers crunched gravel as I crossed the train tracks and hurtled down a block.

“I just want to talk!” he bellowed.

I heard the lie in his voice as though he’d uttered a threat.

Help me.

I didn’t scream. Every breath propelled me faster. I headed into the empty streets. He was gaining, his footsteps echoing in tighter gaps. He made a wide grab. I ducked and changed direction, but another man waited at the end of the street.

Nowhere to go.

“Easy, hon.” He spread his hands like a rancher placating a wild horse. “Easy.”

I charged at the other man, whose callous laughs tore my spirit as my foot caught on a rail. Rocks swung to my vision as the world tipped. My knee slammed into the ground, tearing the fabric. A searing burn registered before terror drove pain out. Someone hauled me upright.

I screamed.

“Shut the fuck up. Christ, you’d think I’d waved a gun at you. Chill.” The heavyset man’s sigh tickled my ear. “Toby, give me a fucking hand.”

The younger guy was about six feet tall, blond, with blockish features. His almond-shaped eyes were barely visible under swollen brows and cheeks. But there wasn’t any malice in them.

Only indifference.

Toby seized my bicep as his older companion relinquished his grip. He prodded my ribs. “Walk.”

He marched us toward the white building.

If I walked in there, I wasn’t coming out.

I jammed my elbow into his side and fought until a cruel hold bound me tight. He twisted my wrists until a knife seemed to slice my nerves.

“Let me go! Don’t do this!”

“Fitz, get the lights.”

Toby shoved me through a wide gap that opened to a distillery. It was cold and clinical-steel walls and concrete. My screams rebounded to the high ceiling. He dug into my shoulder with excruciating pinch points, forcing me downward. My tailbone struck a seat.

The door closed, shutting out the light.