Page 19 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

The window is way too high, and that pathetic table in the corner? It isn’t even close to tall enough to help me reach it. Every time I try to climb up, I fall back down, grazing the tenderflesh of my knees against the rough walls. Now, they ache from all my attempts.

Outside the cell, Scarface—yeah, that’s what I call him—is slouched in a chair, snoring lightly. He’s been there for hours. Apart from serving me a small plate of rice, he’s done nothing. Nothing but sleep.

Must be nice.Of course, he gets to sleep while I’m stuck here like a rat in a trap.

It isn’t just the fact that I haven’t slept properly in days. Or that every inch of my body aches. It’s the sheerinjusticeof it all. Ezranow knowsI am innocent. So why the hell am I still locked up in this cell like some criminal?

Pushing myself off the wall, I stand up, scanning the cell for anything I can use. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but my eyes suddenly land on something— a small gravel stone.

A small smile stretches my lips as I continue to look at it. For a brief second, I consider using it as a means of escape, but scraping this stone against the chunky metal cell wouldn’t get me anywhere… Or maybe it can, with a different method.

Plan A. Rile Scarface up enough to get a reaction out of him.

“Hey!” I shout, my voice echoing through the space. He doesn’t respond and instead just keeps snoring.

Irritation fills me, but I keep it at bay as I lower myself and hunch my back before slipping a hand out through a space. When my wrist is properly balanced on the metal, I fondle the stone between my thumb and index finger, and aim.

The stone travels its projectile but hits the tip of his bench, which elicits a small stir from him. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s a deep sleeper or purposely ignoring me. But my thoughts don’t last when I devise another plan.

Plan B. Where the stone plan fails, use words. Gripping the bars, I raise myself to normal height then set my plan in motion.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, Scarface!” I feel my patience barely hanging by a thread when he still doesn’t respond, but I don’t give up.

“You’re really just going to sleep there? Come on! Let me talk to Ezra!” I yell.

Before I can yell again, Scarface shifts a little with his eyes still shut. Progress. Despite my now parched throat, I clear my throat and continue in a much louder tone.

“Fine. You want to ignore me? Let’s see how long you can last.”

Throwing my hands in the air, I take a deep breath. Then I start. “You’re useless! Spineless! Following the orders of some silly man like a mindless puppet!”

Still no reaction. All I need is for him to grant me an audience.

“I wonder how much you get paid to just sit around and babysit me.” As the words leave my mouth, an idea bulb lights up in my head. Let’s give this another try, shall we?

I reduce my voice to a low, desperate one. It’s similar to the one I use on Harper when I want her to make food for me. She calls it the helpless mother’s voice.

“Look, I have money.” Truly, I do. But I don’t think it’ll suffice for the kind of money these drug dealers make.

Still, I continue.“How about I double whatever you earn here, and you let me go?”

No response. “I promise I won’t tell the cops about you… about all this,” I continue…. when the cops are, in fact, the first place I’d run to. “Just between you and me…if– if you could get me my phone, I’ll make the transfer right away…”

Finally, Scarface stirs. With a groan, he rubs his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. His steps drag, making an annoying screech sound until he comes to a halt before the cell.

Frown lines etch his sleepy eyes and the corners of his lips. I don’t need much to tell me he’s pissed.

“Do youevershut up?” The irritation that drips from his voice is thick and heavy.

I blink, and a gulp follows. Then I cross my arms and shoot him the sweetest smile I can manage. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe if I wasn’t stuck in this cell, I wouldn’t have to yell so much.”

He tilts his head and stares at me for what seems like an eternity before muttering something under his breath.

I watch as he brings out a key from his pocket and starts to unlock the cell door. Surprise is an understatement for what I feel as I stare at him. He’s going to let me go?

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” he smiles when he’s inside the cell. His sleepy eyes are now wide open.

“But I don’t want your money. I want something else.” His eyes rake my body.

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