MAFIA’S PET: Beg, or worse, Break

Aelia’s POV

Silk restraints bit into my wrists, keeping them bound above my head. Each tug only made them tighten.

The air was heavy with the lingering scent of cologne, whiskey, and something faintly metallic. Every breath felt suffocating.

The last thing I remembered was leaving the courthouse, the weight of another failed case pressing on my shoulders. A sharp sting at my neck then darkness.

Now, I was here.

The door creaked open.

A chill ran through me as footsteps echoed against the floor. Slow and purposeful.

The air shifted. It wasn’t just someone entering the room. It was something far more suffocating. A force. A presence that made the space around me feel smaller, like the walls were inching closer.

Even before I looked up, I knew who it was.

Pedro Montonio.

A raw, instinctive terror gripped my chest.

He stepped into view, his sharp blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. He didn’t need to speak for the threat to be clear —he was power.

The kind that didn’t need weapons to destroy someone.

I forced myself to breathe. “Please… let me go,” I whispered, the plea barely leaving my lips. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Silence.

Then, a low chuckle. It wasn’t amused, it was entertained!

“Oh, I’m sure you’re the one,” he murmured.

The certainty in his voice sent a cold shiver down my spine.

Swallowing hard, I forced my gaze up, locking eyes with him.

I regretted it instantly.

Pedro was beautiful in the cruelest way possible. Everything about him. His chiseled features, the perfectly tailored suit, the way he carried himself, radiated control. But it was the way he looked at me that made my blood run cold.

Like he had already decided something. Like I had no say in it!

“Mister—Mister Pedro Montonio,” I stammered, throat tightening. “What do you want from me?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me as though my reaction fascinated him. “You don’t remember?”

A sinking feeling twisted in my gut.

The lawsuit.

I had sued one of his companies. A construction firm responsible for demolishing a building while people were still inside. A mother had begged me to fight for her son. And I had.

Now, I was here.

I clenched my fists, fighting against the trembling in my fingers. “If this is about the case, I won’t back down. Your men destroyed lives. I won’t—”

“This has nothing to do with your little lawsuit,” he interrupted smoothly.

My breath hitched.

Then why am I here?

Pedro reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He tilted the screen, flashing me a photo.

Of me.

Unconscious.

My stomach coiled with panic as realization hit like ice down my spine. He had taken a picture of me while I was unconscious.

I forced back the nausea rising in my throat. “I want to leave,” I managed, voice shaking. “Now.”

Pedro ignored me. He stepped forward, and before I could shrink away, his fingers reached for the clip in my hair.

The moment it came undone, auburn waves spilled over my shoulders.

“Perfect,” he murmured, as if confirming something.

A violent shudder ran through me.

I jerked my head back. “Don’t touch me.”

His fingers stilled midair.

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression, surprise? Amusement?

Then, he moved.

The bed dipped as he placed one knee on the mattress, closing the distance between us in a single breath. Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping the bedpost near my head. The wood creaked under his strength.

I froze. Trapped.

His other hand tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze to his.

I wanted to pull away. Wanted to scream at him.

But I couldn’t move.

His thumb brushed against my lower lip, slow, deliberate.

Panic clawed at my throat.

“Do you want to add kidnapping to your list of crimes, Mr. Montonio?” I snapped, trying to ignore the way my pulse hammered against my skin. “Let me go, or I swear—”

Pedro chuckled. A dark, quiet sound that sent a sharp, instinctive warning through my body. I gulped my remaining words.

He leaned in.

“When I see you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek, “all I want to do is tie you to my bed forever.”

Ice flooded my veins.

Pedro smirked at my reaction, his fingers tracing my jaw before settling back on my chin. “Am I asking for too much by wanting you to work for me?”

His words barely registered over the roaring in my ears.

“Work for you?” I whispered.

“I think it’s a fair trade,” he mused. “Or… would you rather I stick to my fantasy?”

Horror crawled up my skin.

In the orphanage, the maiden always warned about avoiding trouble, but in my line of work, trouble was simply inevitable. I summoned courage to speak.

“I—” but I was immediately silenced with a hand in the air.

His cell rang, so I was to be muted!

Before answering, he shot me one last glance as though he was admiring a new acquired artifact. I didn’t even dare breathe in those microseconds. And finally the sound of the door shutting filled my ears. Relief flooded me like a tsunami.

Thirty minutes later, the sharp buzz of an office phone yanked me back to reality.

Somehow, I had made it back to work. I had no memory of the journey, only the suited men shadowing me as I hurried through the lobby, my heart still racing from him.

Pedro Montonio.

A chill grew goosebumps on my body.

I shook my head, trying to ground myself. The office hummed with activity, calls ringing, papers shuffling, co-workers exchanging files. No one paid me any attention. Good.

“Coffee?” An intern raised a cup toward me.

“No, thanks,” I breathed, dropping into my seat. My fingers reached for my glasses, but my mind was far from work.

I caught my reflection in the monitor. Shit. My hair.

Digging through my bag for a clip, I sent a few items tumbling onto my desk. One, unfortunately, was a tampon.

I snatched it up, cheeks heating uncontrollably. Thanks a lot, Darla. That woman shoved random supplies into my hands like she was running a convenience store!

In my frantic attempt to shove everything back, my glasses slipped from my fingers. A sharp crack followed along.

“No, no, no—” I lifted them up, dread sinking in. A long diagonal crack sliced through the left lens.

This day could not get worse.

Then I heard it.

“Mr. Pedro is so my type.”

My ears perked up at the hushed gossip behind me. For some reason, my heart was pounding like I’d just been caught redhanded.

“If it weren’t for those dangerous rumors, I’d dream about him,” one of my co-workers sighed.

“Forget the rumors,” the other replied. “His wife is the real nightmare. They say she’s the shadow you see during sleep paralysis. If she even thinks you’re interested in her husband, you’re done for.”

The words hit me like a truck.

His wife?

My fingers flew to the keyboard. Within seconds, Pedro Montonio’s profile filled my screen. And there it was. A red carpet photo of him with a stunning woman nestled in his arms.

A supermodel. An aristocrat. His wife!

I exhaled sharply. Unbelievable.

My phone rang, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Hello, Mrs. Patricia.”

“Aelia! Thank goodness. I’ve been calling all morning.” The voice of my most recent client, a desperate mother, echoed through the receiver.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up,” I said quickly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

I hesitated. “I’m fine.” A lie. But she had enough to worry about.

A deep sigh came from her end. “The construction company offered money.” Her voice cracked. “As if money will make my son walk again.”

A lump formed in my throat. I had spent a month fighting for this case, and now they wanted to silence it.

“I won’t let them dismiss this,” I promised. “I’ll fight with you until the end.”

Patricia sniffed. “Thank you, Aelia. You’re a good girl. Your parents must be so proud.”

A hollow feeling settled in my chest.

I didn’t have parents. I would never acknowledge the Spencers as my family. They never should’ve adopted me.

Forcing a small smile, I changed the subject. “I’ll see you tomorrow for chapel.”

After ending the call, I leaned back in my chair, exhaling deeply. My gaze flickered to the orphanage donation flyer pinned to my desk.

I needed to visit home. My real home. The place that reminded me I still had a family, one that actually loved me. I miss Penelope… and Sam, and Luca… and…

I just have to survive whatever storm was coming first!

Paying the orphanage a visit is too risky, not with Pedro Montonio after my life. His last words refused to leave my head.

“If the mountain won’t come to me, then I simply have to make it.”

That sounded like a threat. A death threat, even. Right?!