“Pick up every last piece, you little bitch.”

On my hands and knees, I look up at the man who stirs a flash of rage in my chest.

You fucking pick it up.

I don’t dare say it out loud, not when his men surround him and he looks as though he might knock out my teeth if I say something wrong.

But I want to take the pile of broken mirror shards in my hand and fling it into his face.

“I don’t know what the fuck is your problem. I try to support your hobbies, and you pay me back by trashing your salon?”

The edges of the mirror shards cut into my palm as he kicks aside one of the broken pieces.

“It’s not a fucking hobby. It’s going to be my career.”

Deep laughter cuts into me, his bright eyes lit with malevolence. “A career? You want to make a living out of cutting people’s hair?”

“I should sell dope to kids instead?”

Screw him, acting as though he’s fucking better than me when everyone knows about the drugs in schools.

I stand up and toss the shards in the garbage bin, turning my back on Dad. He grips my shoulder and the air squeezes from my chest when he shoves me against the wall.

“Who the fuck makes sure you have clothes on your back? Food in your stomach? Me. I don’t want to hear you bitching about how I make a living.”

His arm crushes my throat and I dig my nails into his arm. He’s not going to kill me. I know that. He just wants to scare me.

You don’t scare me, Dad.

“Carlos, enough.”

Mom’s voice cracks across the converted garage and I hear the sound of her boots snapping the broken fragments.

He releases me, and I breathe hard through my nose, never looking away from him. “You’re done at that coffee place,” he seethes.

The bottom drops out of my stomach.

It’s my one refuge. The one place I feel normal. It’s much more than just a job. It’s a ticket to my freedom. I can’t just give it up.

“I’m not quitting.”

“Then I’ll go down there and I’ll quit for you, and my way won’t be nearly as nice as yours.”

A boiling pressure builds up behind my eyes. “You can’t keep me locked up like some slave!”

“Carlos, maybe she could work there once a week.”

Once a week? That’s not nearly enough hours to get out of this fucking place.

“Fuck that!”

His face whitens with rage. “One more word out of your fucking mouth and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

But I already wish that.

“You’re quitting the job. Today.”

He took away my freedom to date men, and now he’s taking away my right to earn a living. It’s too much. Tears sting my eyes, and I look away from him. Don’t fucking cry. Smash his face in, instead. God, I really want to. He walks out of the garage, turning his head around to give me a final smirk.

And that sets me off.

With my mother watching, I take the garbage can in both hands and scream, hurling the can across the garage as all the mess slides over the room. Then I pick it back up and bash the metal against the heavy sinks. It’s like a loud gong, crashing against my ears. BANG. BANG. BANG. I trash it until there are heavy dents in the cheap metal, and then I hurl it to the floor.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

Mom screams at me, her hands wrapping around my arms. I whirl around and yell at her furious face.

“I don’t care! He’s taken everything away from me!”

“Clean this shit up!”

“Fuck that.”

I walk quickly out of the garage, my face burning as my eyes immediately seek out the gate. The tall bars seem to touch the sky from where I stand, and then I realize that in all probability, I’ll never, ever leave this place.

“Hey, Maya. What’s wrong?”

A timid female voice snaps me out of my trance and I quickly wipe my face when Beatrice steps in front of me, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

It wouldn’t do to spill my guts to my cousin. If Dad leaned on her just a little, she would blab about everything that happened in the bar.

She opens her mouth, but I quickly silence her. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bea.”

“I was just wondering if I could have my lights done.”

“Yeah, okay.”

What the fuck else is there to do?

She follows me back into the garage, where my mom is sweeping up the bits of broken glass. A stab of guilt hits my chest as I watch her, and Beatrice lets out an audible gasp.

“What the fuck happened?”

Mom glares at me as I lead her into the garage and use a rag to wipe the salon chair free of glass.

“Mom, I’ll clean it up.”

Dark eyes glittering, she sets aside the broom and gives me a tired sigh. “Come here, sweetheart.”

My insides clench painfully as I leave Beatrice’s side and join my mother’s, whose arms are so firmly crossed that I think it would take a crowbar to uncross them.

“Mom—”

“You have to stop talking to him like that. You’re never going to get what you want by fighting with him.”

I gape at her. “He doesn’t want me to do anything. Just sit here and watch after the kids and waste my life—”

Her eyes flare. “Like me?”

That’s not fair. “You wanted this. I don’t.”

She tosses her dark hair and closes her eyes as if in pain. “Do what he says. He’d ease up if you actually listened to him.”

But I don’t want to listen to him. I’m twenty-two, a grown woman, for God’s sake, and I have my own dreams. My own desires. And he’s determined to block me from all of them.

“You have no choice. Look at who your father is.”

Must I always live under his fucking shadow?

“I don’t give a shit.”

She lets out another sigh, brushing past me as she raises her manicured hands to her temple.

I turn back toward Beatrice, who smiles at me expectantly, and I force my muscles to return the smile.

More than anything, I want to be alone to think about him. A smile hitches on my face as I comb through Beatrice’s hair. He was way too damn handsome and incredible in the sack. More surprising was my willingness to follow his orders like a goddamn slave. Do this. Do that. It made my blood boil, but there was something irresistible about the authority in his voice. I couldn’t help but listen to him. I mean, Jesus, he put his mouth on my pussy and sucked me. Fuck, I can still feel his tongue lapping at my clit, his breath like steam on my pussy. I let him come inside me.

A small twist of fear drains the blood from my face. It was stupid of me. I wasn’t thinking. But I can’t deny how fucking amazing it felt to have him fill me up with his seed, his hands owning me, running over my body’s curves and squeezing as if I was irresistible. He called me things that made me soar. Gorgeous. Beautiful. The fucking nasty shit he said—I loved that, too.

I folded the card he gave me into fours, but never looked at it. I just stuck it in my jeans pocket, and I run my fingers over the coarse edges whenever I feel like calling him.

There’s no future with that guy.

A heavy wave hits me. My hands tremble and I’m suddenly glad there’s no mirror, so that Beatrice can’t see my eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I’m going out with him. Paul.”

I can tell that she’s been dying to tell me since the moment she saw me. “Oh, cool. When?”

“Geez, don’t sound so excited.”

“Sorry, I’m just in a bad mood right now.”

“We’re going out to the city tonight. That’s why I wanted to do my lights.”

Jealousy burns inside me like the glowing embers of a still-hot fire. “That’s great.”

Beatrice gives me another weird look, but I’m in no mood to act cheerful for anyone.

* * *

The smell of coffee beans saturates the air, burning my nose. I wipe down tables with my wet rag, content to just ignore the customers and fill the little sugar things while my mind lingers over Johnny’s lips. Johnny’s tattooed, lean body warm against mine. Johnny’s dick.

A man looks up at me from the book he’s reading, and I blush hard as if he’s caught me thinking nasty things.

“Maya, I heard it’s your last day!”

One of my coworkers, a sweet younger girl, bounces up to me.

“Yeah.”

“You have to come out with us for a drink or something. I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

I ball the wet rag in my fist as a sudden pain hits me. Oh God, I’m about to cry.

“I—I can’t. I have to go back home.”

Her face falls comically. “You can’t have one drink?”

I bite my lip suddenly as I consider walking past that bar. His bar. No, I can’t. We messed around once, and that’s that.

“Sorry.”

I turn my back on her, unable to stomach the look of disappointment and my own sinking feelings. It galls me that that fucker has so much say in my life, the man I’m supposed to call Daddy.

The door opens, swinging wide as a man in slacks steps inside, his leather shoes gleaming against the floor. I’m still bent over the table, so I don’t see his face. I’m working as slowly as I can. Fucking savoring the last drop of freedom.

“Jesus, look at that guy.”

I raise my head at the sound of her awed voice and my heart stalls in my chest because only one guy I know of looks that good in a suit.

Johnny.

“Oh my God, he’s looking at you.”

A slow grin staggers across his devilishly handsome face. He wears a blue pinstripe suit, looking as immaculate as he did in the bar. He slips his phone in his jacket pocket, looking unsurprised to see me here.

What the fuck?

Amy gives me a very curious look. “Why’s he gawking at you like that?”

“Like what?” I can barely hear what she’s saying. He’s a dream. This can’t be real.

“Like he’s seen you naked.” An excited gasp leaves her throat. “Do you know him?”

Before I can utter a word to make her shut up, Johnny takes a couple strides and joins my side. He’s close enough to breathe in, and I smell freshly laundered clothes and the shampoo on his hair. He’s way too clean, and I probably smell like coffee grounds. It’s embarrassing, him seeing me here like this.

Amy slinks away to gawk at us behind the counter, flashing me a grin when I catch her gaze.

“How the fuck did you find me?” I mutter.

“Maybe when you left my apartment, I made sure we’d bump into each other.”

My skin burns when he grabs my waist, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost the ability to breathe, because my chest is paralyzed. I summon every ounce of indignation I have, but he’s holding my waist. I feel the warmth of his hands through my t-shirt, and then he squeezes. God, I remember him doing that when we were naked.

Holy fuck, don’t think of that now.

“You had me followed?”

“You didn’t give me a choice, sweetheart. You never called.”

“And now what?”

His voice deepens. “I want you to come home with me.”

Another hard thump of my heart against my ribs makes me dizzy.

“You want me again?”

A little laugh shakes from his chest, and then he swallows it to give me a look that makes me hot all over. “Of course I want you again. That’s why I gave you my card.”

I’m surprised and flattered that he actually tracked me down. He took the time to find out where I worked, when he could have easily found someone else.

I take his hands from my waist to push him away from me, but he twists his grip so that he’s holding my hand in his. Then he raises it to his lips and kisses my skin.

Intense heat rushes exactly where he kisses me, until I think that my face must be on fire. With a dark look thrown my way, he takes my elbows and yanks me into his chest.

“You have some balls. You know who my father is?”

Amusement twinkles in his eyes. “Yeah. And maybe I don’t give a fuck.”

What?

The confidence in his voice stuns me. It’s like a club to my head. Logic tells me that he must be brazen or stupid, but I don’t know. He’s so fucking sure of himself.

Either way, it makes my panties soak in an instant.

“You’re in the Mafia,” I hiss back.

“I thought I was just a bar owner,” he says, smirking.

He looks even hotter with that shit-eating grin.

Then, as if he expects it, as if he knows I’m just inwardly begging for him to do it, he lowers his head and catches my mouth in his. My heart rams against my chest as his lips touch mine, the kiss deepening as he clenches the back of my neck. He’s softer than I’ve ever felt him, but then I feel his tongue, and then I remember that we’re right in the middle of a fucking café.

Good thing I’m quitting.

Johnny pulls back with a primal growl in the back of his throat, looking as though he’d quite like to strip me down right in the café.

“How about it? Do you want another night—”

“—Shh—”

“—Where you scream my name as you come on my cock?” He just laughs at me when I pound his chest. “Come on. I’ll take you out.”

God, I can’t fucking stand it even though I know it’s wrong. He’s wrong. I want him. Every cell in my body screams for him.

“We’re a disaster waiting to happen. If my father finds out—”

“I’m not afraid of your father.”

Sold.

I don’t know what kind of drugs he’s on, but if he doesn’t give a shit about the risk he’s taking, why should I?

I leave the rag on the table as I take his hand, my spirits so high that I could probably fly if I jumped in the air. There’s a car waiting out front, and he opens the passenger door for me, my skin heating when he slides in next to me. I don’t know why, but I feel fucking nervous locked in the car with him.

“I can’t believe you’re not pissed off about my dad.”

Johnny shrugs as he slides his arm around my shoulders and draws me closer. I feel his breath on my face and I know that if I turn my head, he’ll kiss me.

“I was pissed before, but now I understand.”

Fucking slick bastard will say anything to get into my pants.

He hooks his hand around my thigh and an electrical shock runs straight to my pussy as he tilts my face toward his with just a finger under my jaw.

It was inevitable once I felt his hands on me. The spark between us is undeniable. Like flesh on flame, like tongue on steel. His lips crush mine as the stubble on his cheek scratches my skin. My heart pounds when he pulls back slightly to look at me with unbridled lust. I’ve never been with a man like this. He swallows my gasps as he kisses me again, grabbing my tits through my shirt. His thumb moves roughly over my peaked nipple as a wave of heat rolls over my chest.

I yank his lapels and feel the heat emanating from his skin. I palm his chest, sliding down his tie as his tongue dazzles my mouth. His tongue slipped inside my pussy that night. That’s all I can think of as he kisses me. My hand settles in his lap, the burning heat now a raging forest fire. I grab his cock, which stiffens in my grip. Johnny digs his fingers in my hair as he rests his forehead against mine, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

I love that.

The car stops and Johnny pulls away from me, adjusting his cock so that his raging hard-on is not so obvious. My mouth waters as I look at it. He gives me a wink as the driver opens the door, and then I realize how fucked up my hair must be.

Oh shit.

He stopped us in front of small café: Momesso. Italian sausage sandwiches.

I press my lips into a firm line as laughter builds up inside my chest. This must be his idea of a joke.

“What, we’re going to eat here?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Italian sausage? Is this a joke?”

He looks at me, smiling. “They make really good sandwiches.”

I don’t know. I look around the parking lot for a hint of chrome, because if one of my father’s people saw me with an Italian—

“Relax. We won’t be seen.”

He holds the glass door open for me with a smile and I walk inside as my stomach clenches over and over. I’m already condemned.

Johnny’s suit clashes horribly with the interior. It’s an ordinary-looking café, with plastic tables and chairs. Nothing special. Johnny wraps an arm around my waist and bends his head to my ear.

“Go get us a table.”

I turn around to see the whole fucking establishment staring at me. Their eyes drop when I catch them, my heart pounding louder than ever.

That’s fucking it. I’m Googling him when I get home.

I don’t know who the fuck he is, but obviously he’s someone important. High up in the family. I choose a table and watch the cash register. Johnny takes out his wallet and argues with the cashier, who waves his hands.

“Your money is no good here.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mr. Cravotta.”

Damn. That son of a bitch doesn’t have to pay for anything.

Moments later he walks to our table with a sexy little smirk that makes my heart flip. He sits down across from me, and he looks at me as though I’m the meal even as the worker sets the plates of sandwiches down. The spicy smell of the Italian sausage, split in half in the toasted bun, makes a sudden, sharp pang of hunger hit me. I take it with my hands, but he picks up the plastic knife and fork and uses them to cut into the sandwich.

What a freak.

“So, what is this between us?”

He merely glances up at me. “It is what it is.”

Well, that’s a nonanswer.

“You know my dad would kill you if he found out about this, right?”

His smile widens and a stab of anxiety hits my chest.

“Oh, I doubt that very much.”

I watch as he pops a piece of the sandwich into his mouth and chews, his eyes dancing with mirth.

What is he hiding?

“This is how it’s going to be, hon. I want to keep fucking you, but you’re right. Daddy can’t know about us.”

My jaw clenches shut and my teeth grind together in my head. “Would you stop calling him that?”

He grins back at me, and for a moment I’m perturbed by this guy’s cavalier attitude. The Devils MC isn’t a fucking joke. He seems to be under the delusion that he won’t get hurt by my dad, and I can’t figure out why. My chest freezes as I wonder what kind of motivation this guy could have for fucking around with the president’s daughter. Is he trying to use me as leverage or something?

“You’re not using me, are you?”

My voice comes out in a whisper, but he picks up what I said. Dark, intense eyes flash at me.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why else would you mess around with the president’s daughter?”

A boyish grin lights up his face. “Because she’s good at sucking cock, that’s why.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some goddamn whore. I’m not one of your sluts that you fuck around with.”

The amusement on his face doesn’t falter. “It turns me on when you talk back to me like that.”

What the fuck?

“I don’t care. You treat me with the respect I deserve, or you can spend the night with your hand.”

He sits back into his chair and cocks his head at me as though he’s never seen anything quite like me. “Fair enough.” Then his voice deepens. “Although, a part of me thinks that you actually like the way I talk to you. I think it’s just your pride telling you that I shouldn’t talk to you like this.”

I can feel sweat beading over my skin as he stares at me as though he can see through my proud disguise. Deep down, I’m fucking scared that he’s right. That I enjoy every filthy word that flies out of his mouth, no matter how insulting it seems. Why does that scare me so much?

He suddenly reaches across the table and just grazes his fingertips over my hand. I clench it into a fist, hating the way my body responds to him.

A sweet smile widens his face as keeps looking at me. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I think you’re beautiful.”

I inhale a sharp breath as he shrugs with an apologetic smile that makes me want to leap across the table and tackle him. Damn it, he’s a master at seduction. He knows what to say, and exactly when to say it. Like a politician. He should be eating out of my hand. That’s what I’m used to.

I don’t know how to handle him.

Fuck, at this point it’s clear that he’s the one handling me.

He clears his throat. “Let’s go.”

* * *

His lips touch the back of my neck, and I feel my skin prickling into a row of goose bumps. My world is black, but I feel him. Taste him. Hear him sigh as he pushes my hair to the side. My body pulses with need, every surface of me aching to be touched.

“I’ve thought about you all week.”

Deft fingers touch my shoulders and then slide down my arms. Christ, how does he make everything feel so goddamn erotic?

“It’s not like me to get obsessed over pussy. Put your hands behind your head.”

I do as he says, feeling that wonderful release as I follow his commands. The cool air makes my nipples contract, but he makes me burn. His palm touches my stomach, and I suck in surprise. Another hand gropes my breast, gently massaging. The ache grows between my legs like a fever. I feel hot and delirious.

The hand on my stomach dips down, and down. Excitement ramps up in my chest, and then he slides a finger down my clit, tutting in my ear.

“So fucking wet for me. You must have it bad for me, huh?”

The slightly mocking tone makes blood rush to my cheeks. “You going to talk all night, or are you going to actually fuck me?”

I wait for the swift blow of a slap, but all I feel is his sigh on my shoulder. “I think I’ve a solution to your smart mouth.”

Rough fabric suddenly presses against my lips, and a musky smell invades my nostrils. Is that my fucking underwear? I open my mouth, protesting, and he shoves it inside, clapping his hand over my mouth.

“Hold fucking still while I gag you.”

The terrifying sound of duct tape makes me jump, and then I hear it tear. A sticky substance presses against my skin when he uncovers my mouth and slides it over my lips. He traces them with his fingers and I groan against the duct tape.

“You want me to fuck you? Tell me.”

Jackass.

Nothing escapes my mouth except for muffled groans. I can just imagine the grin on his face.

The warmth of his body disappears for a moment when I hear metal clinking together, and he grabs my arms so that they link behind my back. Then he locks the cuffs around my wrists. The coolness of the metal bites into my skin. He yanks the links, and I fall back against his chest. My handcuffed wrists find his thigh, and then slide up his muscled legs to his rock-hard cock.

The fabric that I’m sure is my underwear slowly soaks with my saliva.

“You see how fucking hard you make me? It’s a sin, what you do to me.”

Whatever the fuck that means.

His breathing quickens as his voice deepens into a growl, and his grip becomes biting. He shoves me forward and I land on the mattress. Naked, blind, and mute. His body quickly follows, the fabric rough against my skin. I want him so fucking bad. My legs slide on either side of his body, my hands uncomfortable behind my back, but I don’t care about the pain. I care about the ache pounding through my pussy.

I hear the sound of his belt unlooping from his slacks and his pants hitting the floor. Then I feel his body sinking into the mattress, his bare skin pressing against my legs. His cock lies flat against my pussy. I buck against him. Feeling that hardness so close to me is torture. The ache screams for him to adjust his length slightly and drive deep inside me.

“You want it so fucking badly.”

With a small chuckle, he adjusts his cock, and I groan into my gag as he barely pushes through, teasing me with his head. His hands scrabble at my ears and suddenly the world explodes with light. Johnny’s mocking face hangs over mine. He gently pulses in and out of me, only burying the head of his cock inside me. It’s fucking maddening.

More, I want more!

“I want to see you.”

I use the backs of my heels to dig into his bare ass, but he shakes his head, refusing to budge. His cock teases my pussy, but I’m sure it’s torture for him, too. His lips shake as he moves his hips and stops for a moment to stroke my tits. Bending his head, he takes my nipple in his mouth and bites down hard. It’s a sharp pain, but then he draws a circle with his tongue and it’s as though he’s doused my ache in gasoline. I feel it fucking burning, and then his hips jerk and his bulge moves inside me. Not quite enough to make me satisfied.

“Tell me you want me.”

I give him a furious look as I twist my hands behind my back. I can’t say a fucking word and he knows it. I try to say it anyway, and it comes out as muffled nonsense. He laughs.

I feel as though my gasp almost hits the air when he suddenly wrenches back my body and impales me with his cock. His whole throbbing length drives into me all the way until he’s balls deep. Then he hammers me. My breath is knocked out.

I’m trying to gasp, but there’s a gag in my mouth so I breathe hard through my nose as my heart jackknifes into my chest. His hips slam against mine, and he nudges hard, burying that cock as deep as it’ll go. He swells inside me and I’m overwhelmed by the sensations. His lips shake with the energy of holding himself back.

“You’re mine.”

I look into his frenzied eyes for a moment before he buries himself deep inside me again.

Holy shit.

I moan hard into the duct tape, my hands screaming with pain as he nails me against the bed. He hoists my legs over his shoulders and looks down at his cock. Bam. Bam. Bam. He keeps hitting me so fucking hard that I feel the jolt in my stomach. The pleasure ramps up, and my breathing quickens, and I want to touch him, but I can’t.

“I want your mouth. I want to come inside that smart mouth.”

And he rips off the duct tape, wiping the saliva from my mouth as he takes my soaked panties and throws them aside. His lips crush against mine as his hips thrust, and I’m taken to a new high. I can’t take it anymore.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispers it against my lips.

“Fuck me harder!”

His arms wrap around my shoulders and he thrusts with his whole body, pounding my cunt so hard that I scream into the air. I jerk my hands against the cuffs as I feel the wave hit me.

“Johnny!”

He knows. He feels my pussy gripping his cock, and then he pulls out and hoists himself so that he’s straddling my face. I open my mouth and he slides over my tongue, gripping my hair as he fucks me. Deep moans echo in the room as he gets closer, throbbing inside my throat. Then I feel his gasps shudder into a long, drawn-out moan, and his cock hits the back of my throat.

“Oh fuck.”

Warm saltiness fills my mouth as he comes. A thrill shoots into my chest as I feel his legs shake, and the possibility that I make this powerful man vulnerable. I swallow his cum as he sighs, smoothing my hair over my head. He pulls out of my lips, and I lick them, savoring his taste. Something between a groan and laugh shakes from his chest as he lies down beside me.

“You’re too fucking good.”

My face twists. “Johnny, my hands.”

Smiling, he pulls my body over his and grabs the key on the nightstand, unlocking my hands. I put them on either side of his head, and he kisses the faint pink line on my wrist. A swooping feeling makes me weak. I touch his face, sliding my hands through his thick, dark hair, and finally his restless gaze falls on mine.

“You’re sexy as hell.”

A pang hits me.

Why couldn’t he have been an asshole?

It hurts because I want him again, but it’s never going to happen. Not now that I’ve lost my job and the only freedom I had.

“I can’t see you again.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“I mean it.”

“You’ve said that before.” He grins. “And look where you are now. Hell, I can’t blame you. I know I’m hot shit.”

“I can’t leave the compound anymore. He made me quit that job and there’s no way he’ll allow me to leave for hours anymore without getting followed.”

A shadow crosses his face. “Your dad’s a real prick. No offense,” he tacks on quickly.

None taken.

I lower my body into his arms and lay my head over his chest, closing my eyes. His steady heartbeat pulses into my ear. I should leave, but a voice inside me keeps saying: Just a little longer.

A heavy arm wraps around my back and I relish the feeling of being held, that afterglow of sex when you’ve been fucked into exhaustion.

I shouldn’t have to live up to anyone’s standards but my own.

“We’ll figure something out. I’m having way too much fun with you to give up that easily.”

Johnny’s voice is filled with confidence, but I just don’t feel it this time.

It’s over.

* * *

It’s for the best.

Isn’t that what people say when something they really want gets ripped away from them? It’s for the best. We were a ticking time bomb. Dad was bound to find out, and when he did, Johnny would be dead. So it’s for the best, really.

I sit in one of the booths in the clubhouse, too lonely to just waste away in my room, but angry enough to avoid conversation with anyone. Another week of playing with Johnny’s card, folding it and unfolding it so many times that it’s about to fall apart. Dad has me watched day and night. I can’t go to the fucking store without a goddamn chaperone now.

No, it’s not for the fucking best because if “the best” means surviving in here, I don’t want to survive. I want to live. Fucking that mobster, however wrong it might be, made me feel alive.

The TV blares with some news story, and the vice-president’s voice roars at it.

“Change the fucking channel. I don’t want to look at that fucking wop.”

I look at the bright TV screen and see a handsome, dark-haired man who looks a hell of a lot like Johnny.

“Reputed mob boss Johnny Cravotta was sighted attending a charity dinner yesterday. He was seen entering La Ciccia at seven pm last evening.”

The image flicks away as someone changes the channel, and I grip the edge of the table and fight everything inside me to scream to change it back.

He’s the boss of the Cravotta Crime Family.

I fucked a boss.

Oh Jesus. Oh my fucking God. And he knew! He knew who I was and went after me anyway. No wonder he wasn’t worried about getting caught. He’s only the guy who my father worked with for fucking years. He has Dad under his thumb, just like everyone in the city.

And I didn’t put two and two together.

I feel faint. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

I stand up, legs shaking, and head for my room, avoiding everybody’s face.

The things I said to him. I was so disrespectful. If I had known who he was, I would have never approached him. Jesus, what was I thinking? He must have thought I was so cute, having no fucking clue who he was.

As soon as I’m inside my room, I burst into mad laughter.

I didn’t just fuck a boss. I fucked the boss of Montreal. The most powerful man in the city, and I didn’t recognize him. To be fair, I’ve never seen him before. I try to avoid anything related to my father.

God, I’m such an idiot. I feel so stupid.

Now you really can’t see him again.

If it was any other guy, Dad would throw a fucking fit, but this goes beyond anything he’d tolerate. He’d take it as a personal insult.

The mattress squeaks as I sit down, twisting my hands in my lap. Another pressing worry makes my stomach twist in knots.

It’s been a week since I’ve seen him.

My period is a week late. It’s fine, really. Happens sometimes. Right? Then I think about the first night we were together, a week before the last time I saw him. We didn’t use a condom.

I rise from the bed so quickly that blood rushes to my head and blackness overcomes my vision. Color pricks back into my view as I take deep, shuddering breaths.

It was only once.

It only takes one time, idiot.

I have to find out. Now.

My footsteps seem oddly loud as I leave my room and head toward the stockroom where we store all our pharmacy supplies. I keep my head down, as if maintaining eye contact with anyone would spill the fact that I fucked the boss of our biggest fucking rival. Everyone would loathe me if this got out. It’d be considered a betrayal.

I burst into the small pharmacy, which is manned by a sweet but inconveniently sharp woman. She smiles at me behind a small desk.

“I’ve a headache.”

“All right, well, help yourself. The Tylenol is in the back.”

I head in that direction while keeping my eyes peeled for pregnancy tests on the shelves. My eyes scour the rows, and then I see them a few rows behind the Tylenol next to all the condoms. Goddamn.

I pretend to search for the pills, and then look over my shoulder at her. Her gaze is fixed on me.

“I can’t find—oh, shit.”

My arm sweeps aside a dozen or so pregnancy tests to the floor, and I stuff two of them in my jacket before I shove the boxes back on the shelf. Shit, she’s going to see where I was searching. Her chair scrapes the floor.

“Did you find it?”

I pretend to be replacing the toothbrushes just as she sweeps behind me. My arm pins to my side, crushing the pregnancy tests to my body. They can’t fucking fall.

“They’re over here.” She leads me to the Tylenol and pops open a bottle for me.

“I’ll just take two. Thanks.”

I pop them in my mouth. I’ll probably need them anyway.

“Do you want water? You don’t look so good, hon.”

I’m fucking fine, except for the fact that I fucked a mob boss and I might be pregnant with his kid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Because I can’t just swallow two pills without choking, I take the paper cup in my hands and tip the water down my throat. Some of it splashes over my lips. She takes the cup from me with a scandalized look.

“Thanks.”

Good god, I must look so goddamn suspicious.

I see her walking toward the shelf I was searching as I leave, and my heart seizes.

One crisis at a time.

At this fucking place, there’s no such thing as privacy. Communal bathrooms, showers, everything for those of us who aren’t married. Couples get mobile homes with all of that shit. Even the president’s daughter has to take a piss in the midst of ten other women gossiping about shit in the bathroom.

I squeeze into a stall and sit down on the toilet seat, trying to keep my legs from shaking. The girls saw me come into the bathroom. They can’t fucking know that I’m taking pregnancy tests. I open my jacket.

I watch one of the tests slip from my hands to fall to the floor, faceup with the brazen logo.

FUCK!

The sound of the cardboard hitting the tiles grates against my ears. It’s so fucking loud. My hand snatches the box immediately and I pray that they didn’t fucking look at it. The voices in the bathroom simmer down and I crush the box in my hands, feeling a slow burn on my cheeks. There’s a nervous giggle, and then the talk resumes.

I balance one of the tests on the toilet paper holder and carefully unwrap the other one. Fuck. It’s so goddamn loud. I flush the toilet and rip the cardboard box, tearing the plastic with my teeth before dumping it in the toilet.

Okay. Just pee on the thing and it’ll be fine.

I take the test and grit my teeth as I balance it on the tampon disposal, grabbing the other box. Fucking hell, now I have the same problem.

I hate this place.

The toilet’s noisy flush covers the sound of me tearing the second box apart, and then I take the second test.

Now what? Do I wait here, or do I head back to my room?

I could stay here and feign an upset stomach, or I could retreat to my room where anyone could burst in at any second and see the tests lying there, plain as day.

Fuck it, I’ll wait.

The minutes tick by slowly as I pick up both tests and stare at the little windows.

Please, God. Let me not be fucking pregnant.

Then it happens. Faint pink lines hover over the window like a shadow, becoming more and more clear. Two ungodly pink pluses. Two positive tests.

Just my fucking luck.

It’s hard to breathe now. I have to bite down on my fist to keep myself from crying out.

I fucked a mob boss and I’m pregnant with his kid.

Oh yeah, I’m screwed.