My mafia love

2 ~Boss

Kelly's POV:

I knew the moment we stopped walking.

Not because anyone said anything—but because the air changed.

The men guiding me slowed, their grips loosening just slightly, like they were stepping into someone else's space now. Someone more important. Someone they didn't want to interrupt.

My heart started pounding harder.

This was it.

One of them pushed open a set of double doors, and I was led inside before I could even think about hesitating.

The room was large—too large—dimly lit with a quiet kind of luxury that made everything feel heavier, more deliberate. My eyes barely had time to adjust before they landed on him.

And everything else... faded.

He stood near the far end of the room, one hand resting loosely against a dark wooden desk, posture relaxed in a way that didn't match the tension he carried. He wasn't doing anything dramatic—wasn't shouting or pacing or even looking directly at me at first—but somehow, he was the only thing I could focus on.

It was like the entire room was built around him.

My breath caught slightly.

He was... unfair.

That was the only word my mind could settle on.

Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black like it belonged to him, like everything here did. His features were sharp in a way that didn't feel soft or welcoming—high cheekbones, a defined jaw, dark fluffy hair that fell just slightly out of place like he didn't care enough to fix it. And his eyes.

God.

Even from a distance, I could feel them.

Dark, steady, and when they finally lifted to meet mine, it felt like being pinned in place.

My legs almost turned to jelly as he started approaching me.

"You're quieter then I expected." The man muttered with a brow raised.

"You don't know me," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

"No," he agreed. "But I know enough."

My stomach tightened.

"Your mother paid us a little visit not too long ago, and she did something very bad, Kelly." He continued.

I stared up at him, not knowing what to say, wanting to know what my own mother did for me to end up here.
I waited for him to continue.

"She and her little squad of pussies shot one of my fucking men." His voice was low and dangerous. "Now, I think that if I shoot you, we'll call it even then. Don't you think?"

My vision went blurry, knowing no one will be coming to save. Rescue me from this hell-hole.

"Please." I pleaded. "I-I haven't spoken to my mother in years. I have nothing to do with her or her business." I continued.

It's the truth, I don't. Although I doubt that Mr warmth here will believe that.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked, his tone quieter now, but no less dangerous.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze even though everything in me was screaming to look away. "It's the truth," I said. "I left years ago. Whatever she's involved in—I'm not part of it."

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face like he was searching for the crack in my story, the moment I'd slip up.

"I don't lie well," I added, my voice steadier now despite the fear curling in my chest. "So if I was, you'd know."

A low, almost humourless huff left him.

"That's the problem," he muttered.

My stomach twisted. "What is?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned slightly, running a hand over his jaw like he was trying to decide something—something that clearly wasn't simple.

"You don't get shot today," he said.

The words hit me like air rushing back into my lungs.

Relief came fast—too fast—making me feel dizzy for a second, my knees threatening to give out beneath me.

But it didn't last.

Because the way he said it, Today.

What about tomorrow?

I wrapped my arms around myself slightly, trying to hold onto something steady as the reality settled back in. I wasn't dead.

But I wasn't free either.

"What are you gonna do with me?" I questioned barely above a whisper.

"You stay."

The words were simple.

Final.

My chest tightened. "For how long?"

"As long as I decide."

Anger flared, sharp and sudden. "You can't just keep me here because of something my mother did."

"I can," he said, meeting my eyes without a hint of doubt, lowering down to my level. "And I will, so don't ever tell me what the fuck I can and cannot do. Are we clear?"

I swallowed hard and sharp, regretting what just came out of my mouth, I nodded my head.

He finally broke the silence, his voice returning to that cool, composed tone like the conversation hadn't just decided my entire future.

"Derrick."

One of the men behind me stepped forward immediately. He seemed a lot more relaxed and less scared of this big guy then the others did.

"Yes, boss."

He didn't look away from me when he spoke.

"Show her to her room."

As I reached the doorway, I hesitated—just for a second—before glancing back over my shoulder.

He hadn't moved.

He was still standing exactly where I'd left him, watching.

And then I turned away completely, stepping out into the hallway as the door shut behind me with a quiet, final click.