Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“He’s the president, and I owe him the courtesy of explaining what happened, but if he was anyone else he would be dead for touching my girl.”

I freeze in his arms as he presses his cool cheek to mine.

“I’m not your girl.”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re carrying my kid. That makes you mine.”

No, I don’t think so.

“I didn’t leave the MC to be possessed by another man.”

“So you didn’t get what you wanted. Too fucking bad.”

My heart flutters as his lips touch the side of my temple. I really hate how good it feels to be in his arms. I tilt my head to the side to avoid his touch even though I crave it.

“You’re just like my father. You don’t care about me. You just want to control me.”

“I saved your goddamn ass in that bar.”

“Only because I’m carrying your kid.”

His hands slip under my shirt and I gasp as his palm touches my stomach. Urgent lips touch the side of my head, making me burn as his hands glide over me. His hands make a mockery of my pride. They make my skin singe.

“You think that’s the only reason?”

He kisses my neck and it’s like being injected with Valium. I slump into his arms. I’m just so fucking tired of fighting all the time. It’d be nice to give in, for once. To let them win.

But I can’t.

“I think you’d be crazy to risk everything for pussy.”

“World-class pussy.”

I feel his smile tickling my flesh.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

His hands sweep over my body, sensual and rough at the same time. They curve over the hard bones of my ribs and then his fingers slide under my bra. A thin gasp cuts through the air and my heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings, instantly sent into overdrive. Warmth pulses between my legs and I close them, uncomfortably wet as he gropes my tits.

I should be pissed that the only reason he wants me around is because of how good the sex is, but how can I be surprised? We barely know each other and it was always supposed to be a one-time deal. One night became two nights plus that tryst at the doctor’s office, and here we fucking are.

He slides his hand over mine and grazes the wound. He hears my hiss of pain and glances at it.

“You should have never went back. You should have stayed when I told you to stay.”

I hate flinching from the anger in his voice. “I didn’t think he would find out so quickly.”

“I don’t care what you thought would happen. You should have listened to me.”

Arrogant prick.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

“I don’t need to listen to you.” He cuts my voice off with a gale of laughter, and I shove his chest, pushing myself away from him. “I’ve spent my whole life under my dad’s thumb, and I don’t intend on becoming your little bitch.”

He gives me a wide grin, trying to stifle his chuckles. “Well, you can play that game with me, but you won’t win.”

“Try me.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby. It’s me or the streets.”

Ruthless eyes bore into mine and his smile freezes. “Believe me, Maya. You want me in your life.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re better off with me than without. You know that.” His hand drops heavily over my thighs. “I won’t let you go, anyway.”

My insides seethe at being told that I need a man. I don’t fucking need him. “I just need a place to stay for a week or two, and then I’m on my own.”

“I’m not letting you in unless you agree to get engaged.”

My jaw drops open. “Are you fucking serious?”

“My house, my rules.”

“I only need a place for a couple weeks!”

“Until what?”

“Until I get my credit cards and money from my bank.”

A strange look falls over Johnny’s face and his hand falls on the back of my neck. I’m so pissed off that I want to throw him off, but instead I revel in the feeling of his fingers slowly massaging my knots.

“Sweetie, he’s probably on his way to freeze your bank accounts.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “It’s what I would do.”

Shit. He’s probably right.

“C-can I use your phone?”

I just can’t believe that my father would use his connections to do something so petty. The pitying look creases his eyes, but he slips his hand down his slacks and hands me his heavy iPhone.

I call the bank of Montreal as Johnny watches me unsmilingly. His hand at the back of my neck soothes me as a clinical voice cracks on the speaker.

“Hi, I need to withdraw money from the bank, but I lost all my cards.”

I rattle off my personal information as she finds my account.