Page 59 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“No but…” The words become mumbles that mingle with sobs. “I don’t want to die.”

“Do not fear me. I am a reasonable man. I run a good business here and you have been a good croupier before this unfortunate incident.”

Croupier? Am I in a casino? It looked like a rundown bar from outside. That’s why I thought I could be in and out. Maybe get lucky and find an open safe.

All I need is to find five hundred dollars by midnight. Then Jane will be safe. I saw the money through the window, just sitting there. Thousands of dollars neatly piled up. They wouldn’t even have missed five hundred, right?

That should have been a warning but in my desperation I ignored the red flag. What rundown bar has that much cash on the premises?

But an underground casino? That stands to reason. And the only underground casinos in Chicago are run by the mob.

The man sitting at the desk continues. “Pay me by midnight tomorrow and you can go back to work. We’ll say no more about it.”

The man on the other side of the desk starts crying. Big ugly sniffing sobs by the sounds of it. “Please, Don Luca. I cannot raise that kind of money in a day.”

“Yet you were able to assist the card counter in stealing it in under an hour. You’re a resourceful man. I’m sure you’ll find a way. Don’t be so downhearted. There is always a chance, isn’t there?”

More crying. “Yes, Don Luca. Thank you, Sir.”

The door opens and closes but the legs at the desk don’t move. “You can come out now,” the voice of Don Luca says.

I don’t move. Who’s he talking to?”

He nudges me with his feet. “Unless you’re down there to give me a blowjob or kill me, you may as well come out so we can talk face to face.”

He wheels his chair backward. I crawl forward, standing up and finding myself looking into the eyes of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “How did you know I was a woman?”

“Scent of your perfume. My cheating bastard of a croupier doesn’t wear it, neither do I. So have you come to kill me?”

He’s got eyes I could drown in, sparkling blue thought tinted with sorrow. Neatly tousled dark hair, tanned skin, strong jaw.

Literally my dream man. At least ten years older than me and in a suit that makes me want to kneel and give him what he just suggested. He takes my breath away.

“Which is it?” he asks, a slight smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Finish me off or finish me off, if you understand me?”

Is he teasing me?

“Neither,” I reply, forcing myself to speak.

“Then would you care to explain why you’re hiding under my desk? Running from someone?”

“No.” I curse inside my head. Why didn’t I say yes? Why didn’t I lie? “I’m a stripper,” I blurt out. I wince. That’s so much worse than running from someone. Shit, don’t make him believe me now.

His eyebrows go up. “I see. And you were waiting under there because…?”

“I was supposed to strip for you. It’s your birthday right?”

“Not for six months.”

“Oh, shit. I guess someone at the office got the dates mixed up. Look, I’ll just get going.”

“How much do you charge? To put on your show, I mean.”

“Five hundred.”

He shakes his head. “You’re no professional, that much is clear. You need this money for something. What could that be?”

He gets up, closing the distance between us, towering over me. I try to step back but bump into the desk. He leans forward, his lips an inch from mine. “I see hunger in those eyes,” he says. “That’s interesting.”

---