I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. novel Chapter 17

Madeleine

𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡

I woke up to darkness.

Not just like, the lights are off kind of dark, no. This was rich, velvety, swallow-you-whole kind of darkness. I blinked into it, trying to piece together where I was, why my head felt like cotton and static and bad decisions, and why—

Oh god.

These weren’t my sheets.

They were soft. And slick against my skin. Black silk.

I sucked in a sharp breath and sat up too fast.

Instant regret.

The room swayed. My head throbbed like someone had slammed a speaker into my brain and set it to static. I pressed my palm to my forehead, my fingers trembling, and tried to focus.

The sheets slipped down my shoulder. I was still in my clothes, I think? My blouse felt twisted and crumpled, not how I left it, my skirt was hiked up, but I wasn’t... undressed. Okay. Okay, that was something.

But the room—

The room looked like a villain lair straight out of some overpriced movie. Everything was expensive and cold. Black marble floors that gleamed even in low light. A sleek dresser that probably cost more than my rent. Long, heavy curtains drawn across towering windows. A glass wall across one side with nothing but vast gardens. The air smelled like cedarwood and after-shave.

The bed was massive. The kind of bed no normal person has.

My heart kicked up hard in my chest.

What. The. Hell.

I touched my neck.

My fingers grazed a sore spot, high on the side. A pinprick.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

They drugged me.

Panic flared so fast I nearly threw up. My breath came in little gasps, like my lungs had decided this was a good moment to forget how breathing worked. My hands shook as I pushed the sheets off, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and tried to stand—

But it was a bad idea, a horrible idea.

The floor tilted, my knees wobbled. I clutched one of the black posts at the edge of the bed to steady myself and whimpered as the room spun again.

Think, Maddie. Think.

I remembered the man on the couch. The mask. Flan.

God—Flan.

Am I... am I kidnapped.

I clutched my chest like that might hold me together, the ache in my ribs pressing hard from the inside. My cat. My apartment. The gunshots. The hand over my eyes. The needle. That voice.

“Hello, Madeleine.”

Shivers ran down my spine.

They were here! They were here, they found me, they found me.

I stumbled toward the door. At least, what I hoped was the door. My legs weren’t cooperating and every step felt like walking through someone else’s dream.

I didn’t belong here.

I paused, one hand flat on the wall. Then I remembered another voice, “Go to sleep...”

That voice in my head wasn’t from the masked guy. It was deeper, someone else was there too.

The handle was cold against my palm.

I didn’t even remember reaching it, but there it was. I twisted slowly and prayed the door wasn’t locked.

It wasn’t.

I pulled it open and stepped out into a hallway that made no sense.

It wasn’t just big. It was... enormous. Dark paneled walls lined with oil paintings and wall sconces. The floor stretched under me in black stone. My reflection looked ghostlike in it. Barefoot, blouse wrinkled, hair a mess.

My feet padded softly as I moved forward, one hand trailing along the wall to keep myself steady. I passed massive doors, all closed. No windows. Just long halls and longer shadows.

The silence buzzed.

I counted my breaths.

One. Two.

Don’t cry. Three.

Don’t panic.

The hall seemed to go on forever, like a maze built for someone with no intention of letting you find your way out. There were other rooms but I was too afraid to see what was behind them, there was a hall, and I don't know what else.

Then—

A sound.

It was distant, there were multiple voices, I froze and leaned in.

A man’s deep chuckle echoed faintly from what had to be way down the wing. A woman’s lighter voice answered. Then something shrill cut through it, high-pitched and real.

A baby.

Crying.

Hard.

My breath hitched.

What the hell?

I crept toward the sound like I was in a horror movie and I was the idiot walking into the obvious trap but I couldn’t stop. I had to see.

A place with a baby can't be dangerous.

If there was a baby present than this wasn’t some villain lair anymore. This was... a home.

The closer I got, the clearer it became. Laughter, muffled conversation. Baby wails and soft shushing. The sound of life.

My chest tightened.

Where was I?

The door at the end of the hall was halfway open, light spilling through.

“Just give her the bottle, she won’t take the pacifier again,” someone said, a woman, laughing gently.

“No one’s taking my princess’s pacifier away,” a man answered.

My heart stuttered. I crept forward, one hand bracing the wall, and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

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