The Mafia Boss

Ch. 2: You're dead.

It's been so long since I've seen him, yet my body reacts in the same way it did when I was eighteen. He hasn't changed much. His luscious hair is the same shade of dark brown, though his once bouncy curls are now tamed by some miracle hair product. His build is sturdier and—for obvious reasons—he's mastered the art of growing facial hair. His eyes showcase an experience not even I possess. A pain I can't even begin to understand. The Torin I remember is still there, just with a few additions.

"You're dead."

His words shock me.

"So are you."

This can't be real.

My attacker comes rushing over, keen to serve his king.

"Shall I get Reaper, boss?"

"Boss," I repeat, quirking a brow.

Torin shows no emotion. His gaze is impenetrable. Unnerving.

"That won't be necessary," he states.

"You're the boss?" I ask, seeking clarification.

How the hell does someone as kind and soft-natured as Torin become a mafia boss?

"Yes."

His harsh tone shuts me up.

"Mama?"

My attention is brought back to Maeve, realigning my priorities.

"Can I please have my daughter back?" I question.

Torin doesn't hesitate.

"Is she—"

"Yes," I say, holding her close to my chest. "It's okay, baby. Mummy's got you."

He stares at the small figure in my arms, no doubt processing the fact he's suddenly a father to a four-year-old. Perhaps I'd take pity on his situation had he not just kidnapped us. Maeve is traumatised and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to explain this to her. Her father—who she knows is dead—is suddenly... not.

"She needs food," I snap. "And a warm bed."

I sound short, but I don't care. The Torin I know would never knowingly put a child through any kind of trauma. Why on earth would he order his men to do such a thing?

"Ryan, see to Imogen's every need. Put them in one of the guest bedrooms."

"Yes, boss."

What the fuck?

"Is that it?" I ask.

"I have business to attend."

"Fuck business, Torin!" I shout. "You just kidnapped me and our daughter, and I want to know why!"

Torin side-eyes Ryan.

"I didn't know it was you," he assures. "And I didn't—"

"Didn't what?"

He sighs. "I didn't order them to take your kid."

"Our kid," I correct.

Both he and Ryan remain silent.

"Who did you think we were?" I question.

Nothing.

"Tell me!"

"That's none of your concern," he warns, firing me a look of distain.

I slyly cover Maeve's ears and step further into his space. "Of course it's my concern." I speak. "She's your daughter, Torin. I'm your—"