Conquered by the Mafia Boss

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.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

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.