Page 46 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m the most important thing in his world, makes my heart swell with a mix of gratitude and something deeper, something I’m only just starting to understand.

It’s not just about physical desire anymore—this is about trust, about connection, about letting someone in and knowing they won’t run away when things get hard.

I wipe at my eyes, trying to stem a fresh flow of tears, but they keep coming, the grief too fresh, too real to be pushed aside. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to break down like this. I just… it’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel anything in the open.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lucas murmurs, his voice soft, comforting. “You don’t have to hide how you feel, not with me. I want to know what’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours, even if it’s painful. Especially if it’s painful.”

The words cut through the haze of my grief, making me look up at him, really look at him. His eyes are intense, filled with a kind of determination that makes my breath catch.

He’s not just saying this to make me feel better—he means it. He wants to be here, to be the one who helps me carry this burden.

And that realization, that understanding, is almost too much to bear. But it’s also a lifeline, a way out of the darkness that’s been suffocating me for so long.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to find the strength to keep going. “I’m scared, Lucas,” I admit, the words trembling on my lips. “I’m scared of losing you, of losing this, of letting myself care too much and then having it all ripped away.”

His grip on me tightens, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity. “You’re not going to lose me,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Emily. I’m here, and I’m not letting you go.”

The conviction in his voice, the way he says it like it’s an unbreakable promise, makes something inside me shift. It’s like a door opening, letting in light where there was only darkness before. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can let go of the fear, let go of the pain, and let myself believe that this—whatever this is between us—might actually last.

I lean into him, my tears slowing, my breath evening out as I let myself be held, let myself be comforted. It’s not easy, and the pain is still there, still sharp, but it’s different now. It’s bearable, because I’m not alone.

And as I drift off to sleep, still wrapped in his arms, I know that I’m starting to heal. It’s a slow process, a difficult one, but with Lucas by my side, I’m beginning to believe that it’s possible.

33

EMILY

The penthouse is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city far below as I sit up. But even as I lean into Lucas, soaking up the warmth and comfort he offers, I can’t shake the nagging sense of dread that’s been building in the back of my mind.

Why am I awake? I was asleep next to him, held close, feeling safe. What woke me?

I find out a moment later. A knock on the bedroom door. “Boss?”

Lucas is up an instant later. “Stay there,” he says to me, reaching for his gun.

I shake my head. “Whatever it is, I’m better off with you.”

“What do you want, Jake?” Lucas shouts through the door.

“Important.”

“We’ll get dressed.”

Jake is waiting for us in the living area when we’re dressed, his expression serious. There’s something about the way he’s standing—tense, alert—that makes my heart skip a beat. I know this look. It’s the look of a man who’s about to deliver very bad news.

“Boss,” Jake says, nodding at Lucas. His eyes flick to me for a moment, and I can see the flicker of concern there, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the steely resolve that comes with being Lucas’s right-hand man. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

Lucas’s arm tightens around me, almost imperceptibly, but I feel it. “What is it, Jake?” he asks, his voice calm, controlled. “It’s late.” But I can hear the underlying tension, the edge that tells me he’s already bracing for whatever’s coming.

Jake doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk about Albrecht,” he says, his tone clipped. “There’s been a development.”

The name sends a shiver down my spine, cold and sharp. Albrecht. The man who seems to be at the center of every threat, every danger that’s been closing in on us.

I don’t know much about him, but what I do know is enough to make my blood run cold. He’s ruthless, powerful, and from what Lucas has told me, he’s not the kind of man who lets go of a grudge easily.

“What kind of development?” Lucas asks, his voice hardening. I can feel the shift in him, the way his body tenses, his grip on me loosening as he shifts into his role as the crime lord, the man who runs this city with an iron fist.

Jake glances at me again, as if weighing whether to speak in front of me, but Lucas doesn’t give him a choice. “Say it,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

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