Page 99 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

I slide on my shorts and get to my feet, my knees shaking so bad it’s a miracle I can even hold up my own weight.

I glance over to my kitchen counter where I notice my knife rack. I would have to be quick, but it wouldn’t be impossible.

I touch my hand to my belly and whisper a silent prayer before I lunge.

The guy moves. “Fuck.”

I throw myself at the counter, desperately scrabbling to pull the largest carving knife free.

His arms are around me in a second, pinning me against the counter as his hand goes to my mouth.

I sink my teeth into his skin and throw my elbow back into his stomach.

He grunts, but it’s not enough for him to loosen his grip.

“Lila,” he hisses. “I’m not going to hurt you?—”

I get the knife free, and just as I’m about to reach back and sink it into his neck, his hand over my mouth is replaced with a damp cloth, and my world turns black.

My head is pounding, and I’m exhausted.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m surprised to find daylight streaming in through large windows. A soft cinnamon scent hits my nose as I turn my head to look out the window, silk sheets brushing against my cheek.

Was it all a dream?

But then I go to move and find my hands tied to the bed frame.

I yank against the chains, panic setting in as I realize I’m trapped.

It all comes flooding back to me.

“No.” I pull over and over at the chains, wincing as they dig into my wrists.

I can barely take a full breath as I think of my baby.

Is this what Andre was trying to warn me about? How could I have been so stupid as to get sucked into his world, when I knew all along what he was? The sort of circles he ran in?

He has powerful enemies, and it seems they’re using me to send a message.

Heavy footsteps approach the door, and I think I’ll be sick.

I frantically try to pull my hands free from the restraints, thinking of nothing but Andre and the baby, praying that whatever they decide to do to me, I can endure long enough for him to find me.

The sound of the door unlocking makes my blood run cold. But when it swings open, my fear turns to rage.

Andre holds his hands up. “It’s not what you think.”

He’s changed into a crisp black shirt and black pants, and the sight of the freshly laundered clothes makes me see red.

“It feels exactly like I fucking think. You kidnapped me? And from the looks of it, you even had time for a nice long shower while I was tied to a fucking bed!”

“Lila, please.” He moves to stand at the foot of the bed, placing his hands in his pockets—the picture of ease. “I was being followed. I was worried?—”

“I don’t care. You had no right to send one of your drones into my bedroom to kidnap me in the middle of the damn night!”

“My brother.”

“Excuse me?”

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