Pregnant for the Mafia Devil

2

I couldn't feel my fingers.

For one terrifying second, I thought I was dead. My body felt too heavy. My eyelids refused to open. My tongue tasted bitter...chemical, and my head pounded like someone was drilling straight through my skull.

I tried to move, but nothing as panic shot through me instantly. My heart began hammering against my ribs.

No.

No, no, no.

What did they do to me?

And then the memory hit me all at once. The passage. The blood. The man on his knees. The gunshot.

Him.

Oh God. Oh God.

My stomach twisted violently, and I scrambled off the bed, but my knees buckled the second my feet hit the floor, and I barely caught myself before I collapsed.

What was this?

The realization sent ice through my veins, my eyes wide open. They had drugged me.

My pulse pounded so hard it hurt as I forced myself up and staggered toward the door. I grabbed the handle and twisted, but nothing happened. It didn't open.

"No." I pulled harder.

"No, no, no—" My voice was so small that it was hardly coherent, too fragile. I slammed both palms against the steel.

"Help! Somebody help me!" But all I got in return was silence. No footsteps, no voices.

Nothing.

The kind of silence that makes a person understand they were completely alone, abandoned if not. My breath came faster.

"Think, Elena. Think." I ran my hand through my disheveled hair, looking around where I was and scanning the room properly this time.

A bed, a chair, a sink bolted to the wall. Nothing sharp, nothing breakable, nothing useful.

This wasn't just a room. It was a cell. A well prepared cell to hold captives.

My heart began pounding against my chest, with realization dawning upon me that I had been captured and held captive by a man I didn't even know the reason for.

Was he going to kill me?

My eyes brimmed with tears, fear clinging to my heart, my skin shivering with tingles as I eventually heard footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, and coming closer to my direction, but I couldn't see anything because the door was a hard latch steel door.

That was until the lock turned.

And then his voice slid through the opening door, low and calm enough to terrify me more than shouting ever could.

"Good. You're awake." My bold jolts that they move back impulsively on their own, till I hit the iron of the bed.

"What do you want from me?" My voice came out more fragile than I thought.

"I'm yet to decide." His words came strong, folding the sleeves of the black shirt he wore, as I saw the trail of tattoos on his arm.

Those...those tattoos...

"You saw something you shouldn't have." My gaze shifted from his arms to meet his gaze, now staring vividly at me. Due to the darkness yesterday, I couldn't properly see his face, but now that I stared back at him in a brighter place, my gaze took in his appearance.

One would deny him involvement in dirty deeds, given his appearance: a well-tailored black shirt and neatly tucked in pants. He put his hands into his pockets, revealing a bit of his tattooed trail and a well-made, custom black shoe to pair with. His gaze was strong, just like yesterday, his eyebrows thick and neatly carved, and his... his aura, dominating with fear but also intriguing.

And when he spoke, he spoke with confidence and power.

"And I promise not to say anything to anyone." I voiced.

"It doesn't work like that, sweetie." Every tone in his voice came mocking. "You see...Elena," My name dripped from his plump pink lips, and I swear I had never heard someone pronounce my name with such intent. "I run a...dangerous business. And in business, there are risks. And you..." His gaze scanned me. "Just became one of them." He told me.

"They are going to look for me...my colleagues...I left work, so they know...if I don't show up at work today, they would look for me, people would look for me." I told the kidnapper in front of me. "They would look for me..." His deep chuckle cut me off from my words, along with a scoff that made my fear worsen.

"Do you think I have not made my checks on you?" He raised a brow at me.

"What...what do you mean?" I gulped hard.

"Elena Rossi, only child of her mother, whom died in a car crash when she was just 18. Lived and trapped with her abusive stepfather till she went to medical school at Bingham University. And still lives with him because she can't afford to get a house for herself, therefore she endures the assult and sometimes sleeps at the hospital.

She has an aunt she usually visits. Currently a resident at St. Patrick's Hospital, and on her days off even as a medical students, she works extra jobs." My mouth went agape. "Oh, and her aunt passed away six months ago. No boyfriend, or close friends. Did I miss anything?" His gaze now hard on mine, searching my eyes for something I don't know.

Fear?

Oh, it was so evident in my body.

"You had no right." My words came hard. "You had no right to go through my life like that. Reading my life as thigh you're reading a book. All for what? What did I do wrong to you?" Fear turned into anger, expelled from me. "I never asked to see you. I never asked to witness what I did. All I did was going home after a very stressful surgery, where all I wanted was to sleep, but no, I saw you, blowing a man's brain off, as though he was nothing and you weren't also human...."

"Exactly!" His voice cut me off again, my outburst as my chest heaved. "Now we're talking Elena. That's exactly what I need to hear from you." He told me. "I did blow his brains out, and you did see, which of course is a valid reason why I shouldn't let you go."

"What? No...no." My anger had eventually landed me a lifetime prisoner. "No, please...I... promised you, I won't say anything to anyone." I shook my head, assuring my captor, while tears rolled down my cheek.

"It doesn't..." He spoke, but was interrupted when the door to the prison room opened.

"Dante, we have a problem." One of his men came in. He didn't even glance at me before he left hurriedly with his men, and when I tried to follow him, the door kicked me in the face, and I fell flat to the ground.

Oh God. What have I gotten myself into?

Where am I? How do I get out of here?

I buried my head on my lap, reminiscing about all that had just happened, and that's when it dawned on me.

His name. Dante.

Those tattoos.

Where have I seen them?

Dante.

Oh my God. No. It can't be. It can't be.

"No, it can't be Dante Morelli."