Bound to the mafia

The shrill sound of the alarm pierced through the warm silence of our cozy bedroom, making Winston groan softly beside me beneath the thick duvet. Still half asleep, he rubbed his face tiredly before throwing the covers aside and climbing out of bed completely naked, his messy blonde waves falling over his forehead as he dragged himself toward the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water echoed faintly behind the door.

I stirred lazily, my black wavy hair scattered across the pillow as I blinked sleepily at the ceiling. Yawning softly, I stretched across the bed to grab my phone, but before I could unlock it, a notification suddenly lit up Winston’s phone on the bedside table. My sleepy eyes narrowed curiously.

‘What time are you coming to pick up the pizza today?’

The message was from someone saved as ‘Pizza Guy.’

Something about it felt odd. I frowned and raised my voice toward the bathroom.

‘Babe! Did you order pizza?’

‘No!’. Winston replied almost immediately.

Silence followed, and for some reason, it felt like he was scrambling to think. Then he called out louder.

“Yes! … I wanted us to have pizza for breakfast, but I changed my mind since I’m running late for work.”

Uneasiness crept into my chest. I was about to put the phone down when another notification appeared.

‘Hurry up, the pizza is getting cold’

My heartbeat stiffened instantly. Curiosity slowly overpowered my hesitation. I unlocked his phone and opened the chat. The moment the messages loaded, the sleep vanished from my eyes. This wasn’t about food, rather it sounded personal.

‘How was the pizza today? Hope you enjoyed every bite’

And Winston had replied:

‘Very tasty… make it hotter next time. I want it’.

Another message read:

‘Where do you want to pick up your pizza?’

And Winston had casually answered:

7 pm.

The location mentioned afterward was somewhere I had never even heard him talk about. A cold wave swept through me as I scrolled further. Every message sounded less like pizza and more like some secret code between them. Then the sound of rushing water began to fade.

Panic shot through me, I quickly locked the phone and placed it exactly where I found it just as the bathroom door handle clicked. I grabbed my phone and pretended to scroll through it.

Winston stepped out of the bathroom, faint traces of water glistening on his skin. My eyes drifted toward him as he slipped into a fitted white shirt that stretched neatly over his broad shoulders before buttoning it up calmly, covering the skin that had been pressed against mine beneath the duvet only moments ago. I kept stealing glances at him, but something inside me felt unsettled. Then I spoke.

“I think I want pizza for breakfast… maybe place another order.”

He paused while fastening the cuff of his sleeve.

“Babe, you know I’m running late. I can’t sit for breakfast,” he replied casually.

I lowered my phone slowly. “Why are you even acting like an employee? You literally own the restaurant. You can come in anytime without getting queried.”

He sighed and reached for his wristwatch. “You know business isn’t all that good, and if not for the luxury store opposite us, we might not be getting customers. I have to make sure the little we have gets sustained… or gets bigger. You know I’m doing this for us.”

He leaned closer and planted a quick kiss on my cheek, but I barely reacted.

“That’s the reason you have a manager,” I said quietly, watching him carefully. “To oversee everything when you can’t come in.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Today is my day off,” I continued softly. “And it’s also my mum’s doctor’s appointment… wouldn’t you accompany me?”

For a split second, his expression tightened before he grabbed his suit jacket from the chair.

“Babe, I already told you I can’t follow you today. Maybe next time.”

He slipped into the jacket smoothly, pecked my cheek again, and headed toward the door.

As the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, I stared at the empty space he had left behind. I was still trying to convince myself that maybe I was overthinking everything when my phone suddenly vibrated in my hand. Frowning, I glanced down, it was an unknown Number. That sent me a message. My breath caught in my throat as I opened it.

‘if you want to know where your boyfriend really goes at 7 p.m., don’t let him know you’re following him.’

Attached beneath the text was a picture of Winston, and he wasn’t alone. Standing beside him, with her hand wrapped around his arm, was a woman whose back view looked a little more familiar, my eyes widened as different thoughts raced through my mind but i couldn’t conclude yet. Then another message popped up.

‘Be at his house by 6:45 p.m… unless you’re afraid of what you’ll discover.’