LOGINI just lay there on the floor. Ten minutes. Maybe more. My face felt totally stiff from his dried cum. My jaw hurt so bad. I felt like trash.
Complete trash. But the clock was ticking and I only had two hours before his guards came back. I had to move my ass right away. I got up, dragged Chloe’s huge wedding dress, and ran. I got to my crappy apartment building soaking wet. My hands were shaking so bad I dropped my keys twice. I burst inside, completely out of breath. Mrs. Gable was on my old couch. And Leo was on the rug playing with his toy cars. "Mommy!" he yelled, running to me. "Wait, baby, don't touch me yet," I said, stopping him. I didn't want him touching my face or hair because it was still sticky. I wanted to cry just looking at him. I felt so dirty. Mrs. Gable jumped up. "Elena? Oh my god, what happened? What is that white stuff all over your face?" "No time to explain!" I ran to the bedroom and yanked my broken suitcase from under the bed. My hands were vibrating. "Beatrice sold me out. She took the money from the Vance family for dad's bills, and she signed a new contract with my name! Alexander knows I'm not Chloe. He knows everything!" Mrs. Gable gasped. "That billionaire? Elena, no! He is completely ruthless! You can't go there!" "I have to!" I screamed, tears ruining my face. "If I don't show up in two hours, he turns off my dad's life support and my dad dies tonight. He said Leo can come, but we have to live in the basement like dogs while I serve him upstairs." My voice broke. I felt like total crap. What he made me do on his office floor... It was so humiliating. And I had to do it every day now to keep my dad alive and Leo safe. "But Elena," Mrs. Gable whispered, checking the hall. "What if he finds out the truth? What if Alexander finds out who Leo's real father is? The Vance family kills their rivals. If they discover Leo is the son of—" "He won't find out!" I snapped, throwing Leo's pants into the bag in a huge mess. "I told him it was just some random street guy. He believes me because he thinks I'm just a cheap, broke girl. He thinks I'm trash. As long as he doesn't check, we are safe." But my stomach felt like actual ice. If Alexander ever did a DNA test on Leo, we were dead. The secret about who got me pregnant four years ago would start a literal war. I ripped Chloe's stupid dress off. I threw on old leggings and a big gray hoodie. In the bathroom, I grabbed a wet towel and scrubbed my face and hair until it burned like fire. I wanted every drop of him off me. I hated him. I hated his money, I hated how hot he was, and I hated how he looked down at me. Exactly one hour later, a loud knock hit the door. THUD. THUD. My heart stopped. I opened it. A huge guy in a black suit stood there. "Let's go. Mr. Vance is waiting." I hugged Mrs. Gable, crying like an idiot, and picked up Leo. He held his stuffed bear tight, looking terrified of the guard. "It's okay, baby," I whispered. "We are going to a big house." A big house that was a literal prison. The limo ride was dead silent. Leo fell asleep on my chest. That was the only thing keeping me sane. When we got to the giant skyscraper, the guard didn't take us to the nice penthouse. We went straight down to a creepy basement hallway with concrete walls. He threw my bag into a tiny room with a small twin bed and a plastic crib. "The kid stays here," the guard said, totally cold. "Ten minutes to leave him. Mr. Vance is waiting upstairs in his bedroom. Move it." The door slammed shut. I laid Leo down, kissing his forehead. "Mommy has to do some work upstairs, okay? Stay with Mr. Bear. I love you." My heart was breaking into pieces. Leaving my baby in this dungeon was killing me, but Alexander was upstairs counting the minutes. I got in the elevator, my legs like jelly, and went to the top floor. His master bedroom was totally dark except for the city lights. It smelled like whiskey, cigars, and that crazy sexy cologne that always makes my stomach flip. Alexander was sitting on the edge of a massive king bed. He only had a dark silk robe on, barely tied. His chest was completely bare. Oh my god... his stomach muscles were so hard. He looked so dominant and handsome it made me gasp. "You're late, Elena," he murmured. His deep voice gave me chills. "I had to put my son to bed," I said, trying to sound tough, but I sounded like a little girl. He stood up, walking over like a giant shadow. He stopped right in front of me, looking at my old hoodie with absolute disgust and raw lust. "I don't care about your kid, and I don't care about your excuses," he whispered. Suddenly, his huge hand grabbed the front of my hoodie. With one massive yank, he literally ripped it right down the middle, exposing my cheap bra and my skin. I screamed, trying to cover myself, but he grabbed both my wrists in one iron grip and pinned them high over my head against the wall. "From now on, when I tell you to come, you run," he growled. His eyes were burning with pure fury and hunger. "Now, strip the rest of these rags off. Your real job starts now, wife." I wanted to bite him, I wanted to scream, but I couldn't move. He was too big. Too strong. "Please, Alexander..." I whispered, crying again. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his other hand pulling his robe tie loose until it fell open completely. But just as he was about to force me down, his phone on the nightstand started buzzing loudly. He cursed, let go of my wrists, and snatched it up. He looked at the screen, and his face went completely pale. The mean smirk vanished in a second. "What?" Alexander snapped into the phone, his voice totally tense. I stood against the wall, holding my ripped hoodie together, watching him. I could hear a frantic voice through the speaker. A man sounding completely terrified. "Boss, we have a massive problem," the voice gasped out. "The DNA results from the church security cameras just cleared the database. The boy... the four-year-old kid the replacement bride brought... he isn't some random street bastard." Alexander's eyes snapped directly to mine, filled with lethal shock. "What the hell are you talking about?" he roared. "Boss... the kid's DNA is a perfect match," the voice whispered, shaking. "He is the biological son of your brother, Julian Vance. The brother who was murdered four years ago.”Bro, if anyone ever tells you that sneaking into an enemy mob warehouse for a "quick data heist" is a good idea, please do me a favor and punch them right in the face. Because standing inside a glass-walled office suspended above a dark warehouse while heavily armed Italian mafia soldiers shouted death threats through megaphones? Not my vibe. Zero out of ten stars. Would not recommend. *"Come down with your hands on your head, or we burn this whole damn building to the ground!"* the megaphone voice echoed again, rattling the glass partitions right next to my head. The blinding white floodlights from below were cutting straight through the windows, making the tiny office feel like an interrogation room on death row. I looked at Viktor. Viktor looked at Davis. Davis looked like he was mentally drafting his last will and testament. "Alright, update," I whispered, my voice shaking so hard I could barely form the syllables. I was frantically mashing my hand against the USB port, yank
Let me tell you something about breaking into a high-security mob warehouse in Astoria.It's not like the movies. There's no cool theme music playing, nobody is doing backflips over laser grids, and you definitely don't look cute doing it.By the time Davis pulled the armored SUV into a pitch-black alley off 20th Avenue, I was sweating through my brand-new black tactical jacket, questioning every single life choice that brought me here."Alright, listen up," Viktor whispered from the front passenger seat, turning around to face me and Davis in the back. His voice was all business. "We are not here to start a war today. We are in, we download the shipping manifests from their local terminal, and we are out before Rossi’s guys finish playing with your stepmother across town.""Copy that," Davis muttered, checking the clip of his Glock with a sharp *click*.I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the leather seat."And what if we run into a welcoming committee?"I raised a
You know what’s hilarious? In trashy romance books or movies, the second a girl saves the billionaire mob boss's life by getting all bloody in the backseat of a car, what happens? He wakes up, looks at her with these big, soulful eyes, and whispers some cheesy crap about how she changed his cold, dead heart. Yeah. Total fiction. Zero percent chance that was happening with Alexander Vance. Because the next morning, when I finally got word that he was awake—sedated out of his mind and looking like absolute death on a medical cot—did he send me a sweet little text? Did he say thank you for literally keeping his blood inside his body? Lol. Absolutely not. Instead, Viktor handed me a heavy, encrypted tablet with a list of rules and security protocols that looked like a federal indictment. "The boss is conscious, but he's resting," Viktor told me, standing by the kitchen island in my suite like an overprotective gargoyle. "He reviewed the morning security log. He specifically asked if
I don't think people talk enough about the smell of blood. Like, they show it in movies all the time. The dramatic red stains, the tragic music, the hero coughing dramatically. But nobody warns you about the smell. It’s this sharp, heavy, dirty penny scent that literally coats the inside of your nose and throat. Standing there in that freezing underground parking garage, shivering in just my thin white t-shirt, all I could smell was copper. Viktor was still looking at me. His massive frame was completely still, his dark eyes reading my face like I was a bomb about to go off. "I saved him," I whispered, my voice sounding super far away. "You did," Viktor rumbled, his tone softer than I had ever heard it. "You kept the pressure on the artery. Without you, he would have coded in the Midtown Tunnel." I looked down at my hands. They were completely coated in drying, sticky maroon flakes. It was under my fingernails. It was smeared up my forearms. My brain tried to process it, but th
You know when people in movies do some crazy, high-adrenaline stuff, and then cut to the next scene where they’re casually sipping coffee at a diner? Yeah, that’s absolute garbage. Complete fiction. Because the second I slammed that heavy, bulletproof SUV door shut behind me, the adrenaline crashed so hard I thought my skeleton was going to collapse. My hands were shaking violently. My teeth were actually chattering like it was twenty degrees below zero, even though Davis had the heat blasting in the car. I had to physically shove my hands deep into my hoodie pockets and sit on them just to keep from vibrating out of the leather seat. I stared out the tinted window as Davis peeled away from the curb, leaving Beatrice's tacky beige McMansion in the rearview mirror. My brain was doing backflips. I just watched a mafia don recruit my stepmother to be a double agent. I was literally an accessory to whatever dark web, underworld extortion just went down in that foyer. And the wildest
My ears were ringing so loud I couldn't even process the sound of the door actually shattering. Wood chips and drywall dust rained down over the ugly beige tiles of Beatrice’s foyer. For a hot second, nobody moved. The whole McMansion was holding its breath. Then the screaming started. "I have a panic button! The alarm company is calling the police right now!" Beatrice came scrambling around the corner of her grand staircase. She was wearing this hideous hot pink silk robe with feathered sleeves, looking like a clearance-rack flamingo. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in those expensive salon foils she’d spend my dad's money on. She took one look at her destroyed front door, then at Alexander standing there in his black wool coat like the actual grim reaper, and she just froze. Her brain totally short-circuited. You could see the exact moment her eyes shifted past the bleeding billionaire mob boss and landed on me. "Elena?" she gasped. Her jaw basically hit the floor.







