Page 5 of The Mob Boss' Pet

“A doctor,” Anton says. “A girl walked into the café a while afterward. She’s a doctor. I had her patch him up.”

I swallow back the bellow trying to escape.

“And where is this girl now?” I ask in a soft tone.

“Downstairs. I put her in the basement. I couldn’t just get rid of her after she saved him.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s good. It’s fine.” I wipe my hand over my face, over the coarse texture of my short beard. “Change his bandage.” I point to our brother and stalk off toward the door.

“Vincenzo, where are you going?” Anton calls after me.

“To see the doctor.”

Chapter Three

Stephania

I sneeze again. This room I’m locked in hasn’t been dusted in years. At least there’s a cot, so I don’t have to sit on the dirty concrete floor, but it’s not exactly comfortable.

None of that is my biggest problem, though. No. The most immediate danger I have is needing to relieve myself. There’s no bathroom in this cell-like room they’ve locked me in, and I have no idea when they’ll be back. All I got was a bunch of grunts and orders when they brought me down here.

I cross my legs tighter and lean back on the cot trying to find the best position to keep the pressure off my bladder. I’ve been kidnapped, and my fear has to do with peeing my pants. I really need to get my priorities in order.

The door creaks as it opens, and another man stands in the doorway. He’s bigger than the others I’ve already met. His bulk takes up almost the entire space. His well-tailored suit and neatly styled black hair don’t suggest he’s one of the worker bees.

I get up from the cot. “Why am I here?” I demand of him. I patched up his friend, and they repay me by stealing me. I’m owed a few answers. But first... “Wait. Before that, I need the washroom.”

He lifts his dark eyebrows like this is the first time he’s ever heard someone ask for the toilet before.

“You need the washroom?” He repeats my words.

“Yes. Then you can tell me why I’m here,” I say, stepping toward him.

He holds up a finger at me, a silent demand to wait. But I’ve been waiting hours.

“It’s either here or the bathroom,” I warn him. The bathroom would be ideal. Who knows what he’ll do to me if I make a mess in his cell. I don’t know who he is, but I have a good idea what I’m dealing with. Those men at the café weren’t casual thugs. These people are dangerous.

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