Revenge Of The Mafia Don’s Babymama.

AUTHOR'S POV. “I’m going to talk to him tonight.” A nineteen-year-old Zofia said, tightening the diamond cuff around her wrist as she glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Madga froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing. “Talk to who?” Madga was her personal maid, confidant and bodyguard. She has been with Zofia as long as she could remember. Zofia met her gaze in the mirror. “Salvatore Moretti.” The glass of water Madga held nearly slipped from her fingers. “Have you completely lost your mind?” Zofia although neglected and mistreated by her father for as long as she can remember was no weakling, she only acted weak in front of them to stay out of the spotlight why she plot her revenge against her father. “I know what I’m doing.” Zofia said, standing and adjusting her gown, the silver silk flowing like liquid around her ankles. “No, Zofia,” Madga’s voice dropped to a sharp whisper. “You have no idea what you’re doing. That man is a storm wrapped in Armani. He doesn’t tolerate disrespect. He doesn’t tolerate anyone, period.” Zofia crossed her arms. “He’s dangerous, yes. But he’s also powerful. The kind of power we need, I need.” Zofia knew that Salvatore Moretti was like Hades only he was dressed in an Armani, but she had no choice, she watched her mother murdered when she was twelve and couldn’t do a thing when it was covered up as a suicide. Now she wasn’t that twelve year old anymore, she has waited for an opportunity and her father had handed it over to her in form of the annual ball he usually hosted for the Polish Mafia. Usually, Salvatore Moretti didn’t usually show up in events like this but for some reason he was here and that’s all that mattered to Zofia. She wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste. Madga stepped in front of her, eyes blazing. “You think he’ll just help you because you ask nicely? This isn’t some fairy tale. You don’t seduce the devil and live to tell the tale.” “I’m not trying to seduce him.” Zofia said firmly. Seducing Salvatore is like asking for a death wish. Everybody knows that not only does he hate being touched, he has never been seen with a woman before. “So what’s your plan?” “It’s no news that Salvatore Moretti hates my father, if I can just get him to listen, I could convince him to help me in exchange of the Polish Mafia trade secret—” “Zofia.” Madga’s tone softened. “Your father invited half the criminal elite of Eastern Europe tonight. If you so much as breathe wrong near Moretti, Lech will notice. And what happens then?” Lech Zeliński, A name feared in Poland. He was the Don of the Polish Mafia and also Zofia’s father. Zofia didn’t answer. Her hands were shaking, but her resolve wasn’t. “I have to try, Madga.” Madga sighed, defeated for now. “Just… be careful.” “I will, I promise.” Zofia gave her a watery smile before walking out of the powder room. Across the ballroom, in another gilded corner of the estate, Liliana Zeliński swirled the contents of a small glass vial into a flute of champagne. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “Make sure he gets this,” she told the waiter as she passed him the drink. “That’s for our guest of honor, Salvatore Moretti. Compliments of the house.” Liliana had just laced the champagne with V-9 also known as Inferna, a drug feared in the underworld for its volatile aphrodisiac effects. Once taken, it is known to evoke heat and torment. V-9 is rumored to have been developed in black-market pharma labs for human trafficking rings. It induces uncontrollable arousal, burning under the skin, clouding rational thought and escalating overtime to near madness unless the subject finds release.Once ingested, there’s no known antidote. It is rare and expensive so Liliana must have gone to great lengths to get her hand on one. The young man nodded and moved off toward the table where the Italian don sat surrounded by his men, his infamous leather gloves still on to avoid body contact, eyes cold and distant. But Liliana wasn’t done. As she turned, her eyes found her target , Zofia, just as she rounded the corner, steadying her breath, her gown shimmering under the ballroom lights. With a sweeter smile this time, Liliana approached, holding out a fresh glass of champagne. “You look tense, dear little sister,” she said smoothly. “Here, drink. A little courage never hurts anyone.” Aside from the fact that she was tense from the move she was about to make, she wasn’t used to this scene. She was always locked away at the west wing of the mansion where she has been exiled to since the death of her mother. Zofia was surprised when her father told her that she would be attending the event. Apparently, Liliana had asked Lech to allow her much to Zofia’s shock. She and Liliana never saw eye to eye, in fact her dear sister was always plotting against her and making her look bad in front of their father. Zofia hesitated only a moment before taking the glass. She needed to calm her nerves if she was going to approach Salvatore. A sip wouldn’t kill her. She took a cautious sip, the bubbles catching her off guard. Dry. Sharp. Like citrus and cold stone. Not something she’d usually touch, too bold, too bitter, but there was a strange warmth beneath it. Almost… soft. It tasted like something she wasn’t used to feeling. Like celebration with a quiet ache underneath. The liquid burned going down, warm and bitter. She smiled faintly. “Thanks.” Liliana’s eyes gleamed with something far from affection. “Anytime.” She responded before walking away. She didn’t want to be present when s**t hits the fan. Within minutes, Zofia felt it, heat rising in her veins, a humming under her skin. The music, the lights, the voices, they all blurred, amplified, becoming too much and yet not enough. Her pulse spiked. She didn’t know what was happening to her body, only that the plan she had so carefully crafted no longer mattered. Her mind swam, reason dulled, and every step felt heavier than the last. Across the ballroom, Salvatore’s eyes met hers briefly from where he sat in the shadows. He was already shifting uncomfortably, the V-9 coursing through his blood like fire. His men didn’t notice the faint tremor in his hand as he loosened his tie and gritted his teeth. He got up and left the ballroom, heading straight to his assigned room for the night. Zofia decided to ditch the party, she took shaky steps as she made her way out of the ball room. Liliana watched from the edge of the room, sipping her drink, satisfaction lighting her face. Everything was in motion. And none of them were prepared for what came next. “Let me help you to your room mistress.” A servant that has been arranged by Liliana met Zofia in the hallway. “Please.” Zofia breathed out as she clawed at the collar of her dress. Her entire body was on fire and she was feeling an unfamiliar ache in between her thighs. The servant led her to a room and shoved her inside. Zofia stumbled inside and smacked straight into the hard chest of an unknown figure. She looked around and noticed that it wasn’t her room. “Sorry.” She let out a breathless apology as she tried to pull away from his arms but the figure held her firmly to his shirtless chest, the contact slightly soothing the burn. Salvatore had rid himself of his gloves and shirt because it felt like they were burning into his skin. When Zofia stumbled into him, he wanted to instinctively shove her away but he noticed that his body didn’t react negatively to her touch, there were no rashes on his skin and he didn’t feel like he was being bitten by a million fire ants. “Help me.” Zofia begged, pressing herself further into his arms, her fingers made their way into his soft hair as she started to place kisses on his neck and chest. She couldn’t push him off even if she tried. It was clear that they both needed each other. In the darkness of their drugged haze, fates would collide. Neither of them knew that what began as a scheme would become the most irreversible moment of their lives.