Conquered by the Mafia Boss

Jack’s heavy arm drapes over my shoulders. His hand curls over my bare skin and my heart jumps, pleasure flooding my veins. Rough fingers pinch me suddenly.

“Stop talking to her. The boss doesn’t like it.”

I look above the table to see Johnny regarding me with thinly disguised contempt. A mixture of fear and anger wrestle inside me, and I turn back to Jack.

This time my lips graze his ear. “Fuck the boss. Isn’t that what you always say?”

It’s the alcohol talking.

He laughs, showing off his teeth. “You’re going to get me killed.”

I don’t care if that asshole has a problem with me talking to his wife. Maya’s my cousin. I turn toward her, but Jack grabs my thigh under the table and squeezes.

A faint feeling similar to the rush of wine temporarily paralyzes my body. He inches his hand farther, his deep eyes staring at me like he gives a shit about nothing else.

“What are you doing?”

My whole body shivers as he leans in, brushing his lips against my neck. “Distracting you.”

Distracting me?

My thoughts repeat his words as though they’re a different language.

His finger brushes my inner thigh. I take his hand and dig my fingernails into him, and he retreats, laughing softly in my ear.

“You’ll have to come over sometime, get to know the baby.”

My attention turns back to my cousin as a confusing rush of emotions burns my face. “Yeah-of course! I’d love that.”

Johnny wouldn’t.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

A huge plate of spaghetti and homemade meatballs is dropped in front of me. I wait until everyone has their food and then I pick up my knife and fork and I slice the pasta noodles.

“What-the-fuck-are-you-doing?”

I pause midway in between cutting the noodles, startled by the heat in Jack’s voice. He gives me a look that’s filled with poison.

“What’s your problem?”

“Who the fuck taught you how to eat? You don’t cut pasta!”

Jesus. From the way he sounds, it’s as if I started eating with my hands.

He takes the knife out of my grip and sets it down. Then he takes my other hand with the fork and twists it in my fingers so that the prongs rest on the plate.

“You spin it.”

“But I need a spoon.”

He shuts his eyes as though I wounded him and even Johnny gives off a bark of laughter.

“No spoon, for fuck’s sake.”

A hot rush of shame floods my cheeks as a few of the others chime in. I try to take it in stride, but I just feel so fucking down.

I don’t belong here. I’m not one of them, and it’s not just because of this. The way they look at me-with sneering contemptuous faces. Only Maya talks to me, but none of them would treat the boss’s wife with disrespect. She’s married to him. Has a kid with him. Of course she’s one of them. There’s no doubt, when clearly there’s doubt with me.

Suddenly I remember Maya’s healthy baby at her breast. A rush of longing hits me in the stomach so that even though I just ate, I feel empty.

The jazz band picks up a slow ballad, and Maya rises from her table, whispering in Johnny’s ear. He smiles and stands up, too.

“Beatrice and I used to sneak out dancing whenever we could,” she tells her husband, who gives me a small smile.

Feeling the urge to get away from the table, I stand up. “Jack, are you coming?”

He can’t say no in front of everyone without looking like an utter ass. A warm smile that I’ve never seen on Jack unexpectedly sends a flight of butterflies.

“Of course.”

I’m taken aback as he stands up and takes my waist, his mouth brushing my ear as though he means to kiss me. “I hate dancing.”

Too fucking bad.

I follow Maya and Johnny to the dance floor, where they join hands and immediately look lost in each other. Jack spins me around and takes my hand. Goose bumps sprout over my arms as the fingers at my waist pull me in closer. It’s hard not to feel utterly breathless when I’m in his arms.

“Are you happy? We’re dancing.”

“Yes, I am.”

I love the smile that spreads across his face. I wish I could see it more often.

Maya gives us a little wave and I grin back at her. When I turn back to Jack, he’s wearing a shrewd grin.

“Doesn’t a part of you hate her for what she did?”

“Why would I hate her?”

“You wouldn’t be here. Everyone who died would still be alive.”

His eyes blaze suddenly and I know he’s thinking of his brother.

“Jack, at the end of the day, all she was trying to do was be with him.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re a romantic. I’m not.”

All he sees is the wave of devastation left behind.

“I don’t know if I’d go back, even if I could.”