I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. novel Chapter 30

Madeleine

𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡

I looked around the room, heart racing so hard I could barely hear anything over the pulse pounding in my ears. The doors were still swinging, he’d been here. I wasn’t imagining it. I could still feel the imprint of his hand,.first over my eyes, then at my neck. My skin remembered the pressure. The warmth. The fear.

I reached up without thinking and touched my throat, as if I could wipe away the memory. My fingers were cold and I was shaking.

I stood up off the floor, legs unsteady, and dusted off my uniform pants even though I didn’t care how I looked. My eyes burned from the tears I was too scared to cry, and I hated that my chest kept hiccupping like I couldn’t catch my breath.

Then I heard the buzz.

My phone lit up from where I’d tossed it on the table. I lunged for it, fumbling with clumsy hands. My screen unlocked on instinct, and his number glowed at the top of the thread.

Unknown: Now you take me seriously?

My stomach flipped violently. I stared at the message, the words twisting tight around my lungs. My head whipped around the room again, wild and panicked, like he might just step out from behind the fridge or the curtain. I swear I could still feel him here.

What if he never left?

What if this was just the beginning?

I didn’t know what I was thinking when I texted him earlier. I really didn’t. I guess I thought... maybe he meant well. Maybe he was just intense. Maybe the protectiveness was real. He was so sweet to me in some of those messages, wasn’t he? I thought maybe I’d gotten through to some softer side of him.

But now, standing here, feeling the pressure of his fingers he left behind, I realized how stupid that was.

Just because someone says the right things doesn’t mean they’re safe. Just because someone holds you like they care doesn’t mean they won’t hurt you.

I should’ve known better. God, after everything with Carlos, I should’ve learned. If five years of love didn’t mean anything to him... then why on earth would I matter to a complete stranger who hides in the dark and watches me?

A stranger who knows my name. My schedule. My face when I cry.

My throat tightened. My eyes burned. I pressed my palm over my chest like I could stop my heart from crashing into my ribs.

Why did I text him back? Why did I believe even for a second that this was something other than dangerous?

Oh my god, Maddie. What were you thinking?

Why are you always so stupid?

I blinked hard, trying to text back, but my fingers were trembling so bad I could barely hit the right keys. I had to try three times just to spell the words right.

Me: I didn’t know you wanted me to.

It looked pathetic once I sent it, like I was apologizing for not being afraid sooner. And maybe I was.

Because I was scared now.

Really, really scared.

My thumb hovered over the screen, until it finally landed on his name... Adriano.

I didn’t even think. I just hit call.

I didn’t trust anyone right now, not after what just happened but Adriano... I don’t know. Sometimes he said things that made my stomach twist, but not once had he ever made me feel small.

Not like Carlos did.

Not like that man in the locker room just did.

I couldn’t call Jason. I’d already leaned on him too much lately, and his girlfriend had started to get annoyed and I hated how guilty it made me feel. He had a whole life, his own worries, I couldn’t keep pulling him into mine. Not when I was this much of a mess.

So I called the only person I knew would answer, even if I didn’t fully understand why he cared.

The phone rang. My heart beat faster with each ring, my other hand fisting in my shirt like that could stop it from breaking open again. Right now, in this moment?

Adriano was the only person I could think of who might actually come if I said please.

“Madeleine,” he said, he sounded like he’d just been running. I instantly started regretting calling him. My grip on the phone tightened.

“Adriano…” I breathed his name, my voice didn’t even sound like mine, it was small and shaky.

There was a beat of silence, then suddenly, “What happened?” His tone turned hard. “Where are you? Did that asshole Carlos touch you?”

The way he said it made my chest tighten. No one had ever sounded like that for me before. Not even Carlos, and we were together for years. Adriano sounded like he’d already decided someone was going to pay.

My eyes stung. I looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears, whispering a thank-you to the universe for the millionth time that I opened my door to him that night—the night he was bleeding, barely able to stand. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have known him.

“I’m still at work,” I whispered. “At the restaurant. I had the closing shift tonight and I—” my voice broke. “I don’t know, Adriano, I just... I feel weird. Something happened and I—I don’t want to walk out there alone.”

Another pause then a sound, I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Can you come get me?” I asked softly, stupidly. “Please?”

“I’m already on my way," he said.

Relief hit me so fast my knees buckled. I sank down onto the bench in the locker room, holding the phone tight to my ear.

“Ten minutes,” he added, “Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. If someone even looks at you, you call me back. Got it?”

I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll wait,” because it was all I could manage with the lump in my throat.

Exactly ten minutes later, I heard his distant voice as he talked to the staff that was here for the closing shift. My heart jumped when I saw him through the glass, white t-shirt, worn jeans, hair a tousled mess. His jaw was tight. His eyes scanned everything before locking on me.

Then he came straight toward me.

Without a word, he gripped my upper arms, “Hey,” his brows drew together, “You okay?”

I nodded fast, my breath catching the second I looked into his eyes. The fear that had been sitting heavy in my chest for the past half an hour faded away.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I am now.”

He didn’t let go of me, not even for a second as we walked out of the locker room. One arm slid around my shoulders as he led me outside, shielding me with his body.

The second we got to his car, he opened the passenger door for me. “Get in.”

I slid in without another word, the door shut beside me, a soft thunk that somehow made me feel safer.

Once he was behind the wheel, he didn’t speak for a while. His hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the muscles in his forearm flexed with every turn.

The low light caught the ink curling along his skin, his tattoos disappeared under the sleeve of his snug white t-shirt. I tried to focus on anything else, but my eyes kept drifting back to his hands, his throat, the way his jaw ticked like. It was stupid, inappropriate even, but my heart beat harder every time a vein in his forearm flexed.

“I’m taking you to my place,” he said after a minute.

“I—what? Adriano, I don’t want to—”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to,” he glanced at me, but his voice was so gentle with me, “You’re not staying alone, not after how scared you look. You can sleep in the guestroom.”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.

“You’re scared. You don’t feel safe. And I don’t want you anywhere I can’t protect you.”

My heart skipped at how easily the words fell from his mouth, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, that my safety belonged to him.

I nodded slowly, too tired and too shaken to keep pretending I didn’t want that, didn’t need that.

We drove through gates that looked like they belonged to a castle, not a house. The Capone estate was massive. It was quiet out here.

It took a while just to reach the front of the house. He pulled up into a spot lined with polished black cars and stepped out without a word, rounding the front of the vehicle to open my door.

Guards were everywhere, men in black suits with eyes that tracked everything, even me. My stomach flipped, but I didn’t feel scared because Adriano had his hand on my lower back again, guiding me forward.

The front door opened soundlessly. Inside, the house was quiet, dim lights lined the hallway. We climbed the stairs. His steps were slow, but I felt his presence close behind me, and the brush of his fingertips at the small of my back made me more aware of my own skin than I’d ever been in my life.

“This one,” he said, opening the door to the guestroom I’d stayed in last time.

I stepped in and stood in the center of it, arms wrapped around myself even though I wasn’t cold.

“I’ll grab you some of Claire’s clothes,” he said.

I turned slightly, my gaze catching his for a second longer than it should have, “You don’t have to—”

“I’m not letting you sleep in that uniform.” His eyes swept over me slowly.

The moment he was gone, I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the comforter tight. My chest still ached with leftover panic, but it was mixed with something else now, something dangerously close to feeling safe.

I don't know why I trusted Adriano more in the dark than I had trusted most people in the light.

He came back a few minutes later, carrying a pile of soft, folded clothes in his arms, a sweatshirt, leggings, even socks.

I looked up at him and tried to smile, just a little, just enough to say thank you without saying it out loud, because I didn’t trust my voice not to break.

He stood in the doorway for a second longer than necessary, eyes dragging over me, “I’ll be in my room,” he said finally, “If you need anything… just call me.”

In the next hour, I showered, scrubbing my skin like I could wash away the last few hours, the fear, the humiliation, the invisible fingerprints still ghosting across my neck. I let the hot water hit my back until my shoulders finally dropped from where they'd been glued to my ears.

After, I slipped into the clothes Adriano brought me. I let my curls down, finally free from the tight bun I’d had all shift. My scalp thanked me. I checked my phone out of habit. No new messages and that meant no messages from him.

My chest loosened, just a little. I exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours and whispered a quiet, shaky thank you to no one in particular.

Then came a knock at the door.

My heart jumped again, I opened the door to find Adriano standing there with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.

His hair was damp, like he’d just showered too, and the grey t-shirt he wore now looked freshly stretched over his chest and shoulders. He glanced down at the box, then up at me with a grin that tugged at one corner of his mouth.

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