Chapter 3
1195 Words
***Dean's POV***
The first rays of sun pierced through the gap in the curtains, painting stripes across Fiona's sleeping face.
Dean watched her and a strange knot formed in his stomach. Her breathing was soft and rhythmic and he stared at her. His night was filled with the recurring dreams of her face.
In those dreams, a baby's voice echoed and Fiona petted the baby. However, the baby's face remained a blur.
Fiona brought a ray of hope to his life and he didn't want to show his weakness.
His phone buzzed with a message from Arturo, his right-hand man. "Boss, I have looked. All I got from her is that she studied at Summerville University like you. It seems after that, she disappeared. There's faint news of her having a baby, but no one knows anything about the baby or has the picture."
Dean sighed. He glanced at Fiona again. A flap of her nightgown had slipped, revealing the curve of her breast.
His breath hitched. That was a sensation he hadn't felt in years. His body had become a hardened shell forged in years of violence and control.
But it suddenly felt alive and responded to the sight with a primal ache. He looked away and was reminded of the old days.
Fiona; the girl who had worshiped him in high school, the girl who had declared her love with reckless abandon, the girl he had tossed aside like a discarded toy, finally spending a night with her five years ago, all because he was drunk.
He had built his empire on ruthlessness. On a steel-hard exterior that left no room for vulnerability. Yet here she was, sleeping beside him. She had controlled him, made him beg and he would do even more.
What did she want? The question formed up in his mind. He knew the answer, a bitter truth that tasted like ash on his tongue.
She still wanted him. But he was a don, a kingpin, a man who ruled by fear. His world was one of shadows and secrets, of blood and betrayal.
He could offer her nothing but pain, a life of constant fear and uncertainty. And yet, his heart, the one he thought he'd locked away, pounded against his ribs, a desperate plea for the woman who had carried a baby that might belong to him.
***Fiona's POV***
My eyes fluttered open and my heart skipped a beat as I saw Dean still asleep beside me. I had the best night of my life and I had forgotten where I was.
My nightgown had shifted, revealing a side of my breast and I quickly pulled the fabric back up.
"Good morning," Dean mumbled.
I didn't answer. I just turned my face away, trying to get back to the script. “What kind of man stares at a woman who is half-naked?”
“A man who has seen them before,” Dean answered.
That was a joke. He was softening up. But still, something told me it was because of the child he wanted to meet.
"Where is the baby?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.
"I am not satisfied," I replied.
He stood and went into the bathroom. I heard the water running. What was he doing? Was he planning to leave?
After a while, he stormed back into the room and knelt beside the bed, his hand reached out to grasp my leg.
My breath hitched. This was happening faster than I expected. Dean, on his knees?
"Please, Fiona. I need to see the baby. My chances of having a baby are slim. Please, let me keep him," he pleaded.
"You want the baby, not the mother, right?" I asked and stood to my feet, leaving him kneeling. My mind was reeling.
“All right, marry me, bring this baby in as our child. And I will do anything you want," he suddenly said.
My legs felt like jelly and I felt my heart beating against my ribcage. I almost believed it, but then I looked at him. He was the man who had taken a life in front of me. He could lie about anything.
"When I am satisfied, I will let you meet the baby."
“All right, what do you want?" he asked in anger.
"A lot. But for now, I want a house and a car."
He pulled out his phone and his thumb moved expertly across the screen. "Arturo, buy a fashionable house and a Maybach GLE. Bring me the keys," he said.
I was stunned. All I had to do was look on.
He hung up. "I'm going to work. You should stay here until Arturo brings your keys," he said. His gaze lingered on me before he walked out, leaving me alone in the room.
I took my bath and slipped into one of the clothes he had gotten for me. I stepped to the living room and the maids greeted me, but the thugs didn't.
Dean was going too far. He had proof that he would do anything to get his baby, but still, I didn't trust him.
The sound of the doorbell snapped me out of my thoughts and there was a man with keys in his hand. “Are you Fiona Walker?” he asked.
“Yes. Where are my keys?”
"I've found a house," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "It's near the beach. You'll like it." He handed me the keys and then walked out.
After a while, I strolled around the house since there was no one to show me around. I went back to Dean's room and checked his desk.
He had been obsessed about a map — The Fort; Ethan Knight's Mafia headquarters. It was all he'd been studying for months.
He drew lines, made diagrams and plotted graphs. I knew it all was plans to attack The Fort.
I stepped out and told one of the guards. "I'm going for a drive.” He bristled, about to object, but I cut him off. "Alone," I added, the words dripping with a newfound authority that surprised even me.
Another stepped before me. “You are going nowhere.”
I grabbed my phone and dialed Dean's number. "Dean, one of your guards wants to hit me."
"Give him the phone," Dean's voice boomed through the receiver.
"Yes, Don," the guard choked out.
"If that woman tells you to pluck out your eyes, you better do it or you die! Do whatever she says," Dean commanded.
“But…”
“Say no more,” Dean ordered.
"Yes, Boss," the thug mumbled. “I'm sorry ma'am,” he said and handed the phone to me.
I smiled. I had never had this kind of power. This life. I wanted more. "I want to take a stroll with my new car," I said to the guard, ignoring his furious glare. "I don't need a bodyguard or anyone following me."
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.
I took a moment to savor the feeling. The respect. The control. The fear in their eyes. This was the life I craved. This was the life I deserved.
- Writer
