Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“I wanted him, and he wanted me. It’s that simple.”

“They’re the enemy.” He points his finger at Johnny’s face. “This guy doesn’t give a shit about you. The moment you have his kid, he’ll throw you aside like garbage.”

Blaze puts his hand on Dad’s shoulder as Tanner winces at his comments.

God, even they think he’s fucking nuts.

“I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up one last time, and if another insult comes out of your fucking mouth, I’ll cut your fucking hand off.” Johnny squeezes me so hard that I can’t feel my circulation. “Put your anger behind you.”

My father’s face turns a nasty shade of puce. “You destroyed my only child.”

Johnny releases my hand and folds his arms, looking indifferent, but I can see the vein pulsing in his neck. He’s a lit fuse, about to explode.

“You insulted the club by seducing my daughter and getting her pregnant, but I’m willing to let things slide if you meet my terms.”

Oh Jesus.

“Which are?”

“We want a thirty-percent reduction on your wholesale prices, and we want to regain our territory.”

Johnny’s teeth look like they’re about to crack. “And?”

“And my daughter gets an abortion-immediately.”

The air stills as my father’s voice rings across the restaurant. I don’t dare look at Johnny’s face, but Mom clenches my fingers in my lap. I don’t dare breathe.

“I will kill you if you suggest that again.”

“Johnny!”

I’ve never seen him like this. It’s scary. His lips are white and shaking, like a wolf curling its lips over its fangs.

“She is mine. Our child is mine. I will not let anyone come between us.”

“Then we’re going to have a problem.”

Flecks of spit fly from Johnny’s mouth as he yells across the table. “You’re the one with the fucking problem. I want the Devils and the family to continue our business arrangement. We’re running a fucking business, not a pissing contest.”

“You fucking Italians think you can do whatever the hell you want-”

“Dad!”

He leans over the table, staring at Johnny’s whitened face. “Go ahead, fuck my daughter. Do whatever the hell you want with her. Salute. Is that what you want me to say?”

“Carlos, shut up!” Mom tries to grab his arm, but he rips it out of her reach.

“You fucking animals nearly tore us apart in the ’90s-”

“Without the support of the family, you wouldn’t even be president. I own you and your fucking club.”

“Not anymore! We’re fucking done taking orders from-!”

“From what?” Johnny stands up, his screams stabbing my ears as one of his soldiers holds him back. “From what, you fucking coward? Say it!”

Horrified, I glance at my father, who remains tight lipped. He can’t-he’ll be killed for sure. Beside me, my mother moans. “Please, don’t!”

“Say it so I can blow your fucking head off, right here. Right now.”

“If you do, you’re dumber than your father.”

Johnny’s arm moves and then two deafening shots explode in my ears. Something wet showers over my face and I look at a fine sprinkling of little red drops, all over my hand. Tanner and Blaze crash over the table, blood spilling from their heads like two cracked eggshells.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh my God!”

Mom screams as we both stand from the table as blood creeps over the wood. My heart seizes in my chest as I watch Johnny calmly stand up, the silence ringing in my ears as he grabs the scruff of Blaze’s shirt and yanks him from the chair. His body makes a meaty slapping sound as it hits the tiles, and then I see the back of his head, blown open and black, with chunks of pink in his hair. His brains are all over the floor.

The color faintly reminds me of the charcuterie we had as an appetizer, and the rich meal I ate suddenly rises in my throat. I turn away from the carnage and slap my hands over my mouth, swallowing it down.

Johnny sits on the chair vacated by Blaze, his suit ruined, and aims his gun right into my father’s stunned face.

“Johnny, what are you doing?” One of his older men speaks up behind him.

“Getting rid of this asshole.”

“NO!” The scream rips from my mother’s throat and Johnny’s head turns toward us as if sensing our presence for the first time.

“Get them out of here!”

“DON’T KILL MY HUSBAND! NO!”

They grab my arms, and I’m still shaking when I’m outside. Mom fights tooth and nail, screaming.

“Mom!”

“He’s going to kill him!”

I know that. It sinks into my head as she grabs both of my shoulders and shakes me.

“Do something!”

Why should I?

A second later I feel sickened with myself. It’s not enough that my mom obviously would be devastated if he died?

“He’s your father.”

I search within myself for a scrap of pity for him. He shot at me. Killed Chuck. He ground my nose against the dirt to the point of desperation.