Page 98 of Possessive Mafia Vows

Nick dragsme away from the window by my hair. I try to free myself, but his grip is too tight. I can feel my scalp stinging and the tears streaming from my eyes.

I lose my balance on the staircase, my foot sliding out from under me. Pain shoots through my ankle and travels the length of my leg as it twists awkwardly, the bone colliding with the back of one of the stone steps. I fall the rest of the way, the ground hurtling towards my face, but Nick yanks on my hair to keep me upright.

I’m obviously more useful to him without a mashed-up face.

I can smell the rotten air as we approach the basement, and my stomach instantly revolts.

“Nick, please,” I plead with him. “Don’t lock me in the basement. You know I can’t escape.”

“Shut up, Sienna. Begging doesn’t suit you.”

He grabs my arm with his free hand and shoves me through the open doorway. My ankle is throbbing. I stumble across the slimystone floor and land heavily on my knees by the end of the cot. More pain. I roll into a sitting position, dragging my knees to my chest, and rub them to ease the pain shooting up my thigh to the base of my spine. My right knee is wet, and blood seeps through the leg of my pants.

The floor is icy, so I drag myself upright, tentatively putting my weight onto my ankle to test its strength. It buckles, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“You really should be more careful.” Nick watches me from the doorway. “In your condition.”

My gaze snaps towards him. “M-my condition?”

The twisted smile is back. “You’re pregnant, Sienna.” Lines appear between his lowered brows. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You’re having his baby, so you see, I couldn’t have married you even if I’d wanted to.”

He’s lying. He’s worried that I’ll still try to escape. Despite the risk of falling over the edge of a cliff and either dying on the treacherous rocks below or drowning in the Irish Sea.

“Why would I believe you?”

My right knee is starting to swell; I can feel the skin stretching over the knobby bone, the flesh growing spongy to protect the kneecap from further damage.

He shrugs. “Believe me or not, it’s irrelevant.”

“Why are you doing this, Nick? What did I ever do to you?”

“You got lucky, Sienna. Caleb Murray came along and handed your dream to you on a plate. Although things are not going your way right now, are they?”

“I-I’m going to pay him back.”

I’m stalling. My thoughts are still unpacking the comment about me being pregnant, and I’m stuck on it, trying to figure out why he said it. What was he trying to achieve?

“How?” His eyebrows arch upwards. “You no longer have any artwork to sell.”

I freeze. My thoughts screech to a halt as his words sink in.

“It was you?” I whisper. “You destroyed all my work?”

“Well, not me personally. Why would I get my hands dirty when someone else will do it for me?”

His frame fills the doorway. I have the overwhelming urge to lunge at him, to headbutt his diaphragm and send him hurtling backwards into the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. With the demonic red-hot rage I’m feeling inside, I could beat him to death with my bare hands or strangle him with the neat leather belt holding up his pants.

But that would make me as bad as him, and I’m better than that.

My mom once said that the sweetest revenge is success.

I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now. I need Nick Morris to stick around long enough for me to get my gallery up and running again and fulfill my dream of becoming a successful artist.

“Oh, and in case you still don’t believe me—” he takes his phone out again and slides it around to show me the picture on the screen “—the blood on your face is yours. I performed a portable i-STAT pregnancy blood test on you while you were sleeping. Itested it out of curiosity, not because I was trying to save you. It’s simply more leverage for us.”

“You did a blood test without my consent?”

I’m still numb. I’m cold. I’m in pain from my ankle and my knee, and now this…

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