Page 30 of Oops Baby for the Mafia Boss
The room is dark and lit only by a computer screen.
I must move, because a big leather office chair turns and Blackfen looks back at me, his face mainly in shadow. “Ah! You’re awake.”
I glance around. It’s dank and dirty, and the concrete makes it clear this is going to be a long month.
“Too weird for me to bring someone down here of their own volition,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take me up on one of my deals. So, I have a question.” He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “Why do you want to find this girl?”
I glare at him. No part of me feels like confessing all my squishy emotions to Blackfen.
“Or I’ll pepper spray you. I have plenty. It’s similar pain to the adapted taser you experienced, but in your eyeballs, nose, throat, and mouth for around two or three hours,” he adds conversationally.
This shit wasn’t my style as an enforcer. I’m far happier just threatening with a gun than all this fancy nonsense.
I don’t reply. I’m resigned that I’ll do whatever this bastard wants to get Emily back. The London Mafia Syndicate know I’m here, and so do the most loyal of my men. I’m as safe as I can be, under the circumstances of being under the control of a serial killer.
Yeah, he probably thinks I don’t know that.
I’ll survive this though.
“Why do you want to find her?” he asks again. “What could possibly be worth this?”
It’s none of his business.
I don’t answer, and with a roll of his eyes, he puts up a screen between us, and then casually picks up a spray can. I shut my eyes, but not quite in time.
It’s like pouring liquid chillies into my face. It’s excruciating, and as he promised, far worse than the taser.
“How are you doing?” Blackfen offers me a bottle sometime later. I have no idea how long.
When I take it, I realise I’m not bound to the chair.
“You’re not a guy with a big digital footprint,” he muses as I drink, returning to his computer.
The cold, sweet water is heaven. My eyes still sting, but the worst has passed.
“But I’m clear you’re not involved with the sorts of things men who ‘visit’ down here with me normally are. So I was wondering, what are you going to do with Emily Smith when I let you go in a month? And why have you been buying so many special editions of books with titles like, ‘A “Dangerous Thing” and “Pretty Thing”’. Audiobooks too. Doesn’t seem like your style.”
I still don’t reply.
“Look, I’ll get it out of you eventually. The only question is how much pain I inflict first.” He shifts his folded arms.
“Nothing could hurt as much as losing Emily.” I don’t know why I say it. Perhaps to avoid more pepper spray, or maybe justto give voice to this feeling that has been eating away at me for months now.
He raises his eyebrows, nodding. “And the books? And the ludicrous?—”
“For her.”
“I thought so.” Blackfen shakes his head, but the rapid taps of his keyboard say he’s doing something. “I had to use...” He hesitates. “Yeah, you won’t appreciate the details of my genius methods. There’s a girl called Emily Smith who has an account on that orange-logo website. Listens to a lot of audio fantasy romance books. Her IP address a few months ago was Mortlake, and now…”
“Where?” I demand, because,yes. That could be my Emily. How he knows that I’ve no idea, and I’m beyond caring.
“There’s a script running, because there aren’t many logins so I’m having to…” He sounds as though he’s enjoying himself. “Ha. Got it.”
My heart does a flapping movement like a half-dead pigeon. If he’s found her, he can fulfil his part of the bargain. Thirty days of torture, Mortlake’s territory and half my fortune, and I’ll have Emily.
Worth it.
I tip my head back, a silly grin on my face.
