Ruthless Mafia Daddy (Alpha Mafia Daddies)

I’m deliciously sore between my legs as I walk into the office on Monday morning. The fact that I can still feel the evidence of having Andre inside me three days later has me clenching my thighs together as I take a seat at my new desk.

I glance across the hall.

Andre is sitting behind his desk, muttering into the phone.

My cheeks heat as I remember how he bent me over that desk and fucked me like his life depended on it. How beautifully he ate me up. How much I wanted to fall to my knees and taste him.

When he mentioned adding that clause to my contract, my mouth actually watered.

How screwed up am I that I would willingly do it just to be able to enjoy that look on his face when I give him the ultimate pleasure?

This is so wrong. All of it. For so many reasons.

And I know we shouldn’t have done it. The way he made me leave so abruptly afterwards proves that.

It hurt like hell to see him act so cold so quickly after fucking me, but I’m glad one of us still has the ability to keep their distance. There are already enough complications between us, what with him now being my boss and the fact that I’m pregnant with his child.

That knowledge has my heart thumping in my chest.

There’s only so long I can hide this pregnancy before I start to show. And then what am I supposed to do? If I lie and say it was someone else’s, Andre might be pissed as hell, especially if what happened Friday happens again. But if I tell him he’s the father…

I bury my head in my hands and let out a groan.

“I need a coffee.”

My head snaps up at the sound of Andre’s voice.

He’s leaning against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing his usual black suit and white shirt, unbuttoned to expose a little of his tanned chest.

My breath hitches as I take in his looming presence, but when my eyes find his, I’m a little hurt to find no warmth in them.

“Did you hear what I said?” His tone is flat.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“You want coffee,” I repeat, getting to my feet.

Andre’s eyes flick down to my dress, and I catch his nostrils flaring.

I chose the dress on purpose, hoping to put the ball back in my court, especially considering how easily he discarded me on Friday. I like to have control, and this dress gives me exactly that.

It’s bright red and hugs every curve perhaps a little too tightly. Given how swollen my breasts are, they’re practically spilling out of the dress. Add to the fact there’s a zip that runs from between my breasts to the hem, meaning it could come apart in one swift motion, I know exactly the sort of thoughts running through Andre’s mind.

I try to hide my smirk as I walk around my desk, knowing full well that my heels make my ass look incredible.

Two can play at that game.

As I approach the door, Andre steps to the side, his eyes narrowed on my face.

I raise my eyebrows in question as I pause beside him, letting the bergamot and sandalwood scent of him wash over me. I bite back a moan as I look up into his dark eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink to my knees before him.

“Black, no sugar?” I bite my lower lip.

Andre’s throat bobs, but he sinks his hands into his pockets, shifting slightly on his feet.

“Yes,” he grits out, and I know he’s as turned on as I am.

Too bad. He doesn’t get to be the only one to feel tossed aside.

“I’ll be right back.” I walk past Andre, making sure to swish my hips as I walk away.

His stare burns into my skin as I head down the corridor, and I can’t fight the smile as I turn the corner.

I take my time in the breakroom, making his coffee, wanting him to squirm a little longer. I catch a few of my coworkers eyeing my outfit, but I keep my head down, not wanting to give myself away.

The last thing I want is for people to think I’m sleeping my way to the top.

Coffee in hand, I knock softly on Andre’s door.

“Come in,” he grunts.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I push open the door and gasp at the sight of a huge hole in the wall.

“What happened?” My mask falls as I take in the beaten-up drywall.

“No idea.”

I look to Andre who’s watching me with interest. His face is like stone, no hint of emotion in his dark eyes.

“This wasn’t you?” I straight up ask as I walk over to the desk, still clutching Andre’s coffee in my hands.

He leans back in his chair, resting his chin on his left fist as he slowly spreads his thighs. I glance at his hands and notice the knuckles of his right hand are a little bruised.

Interesting.

“I have complete control over myself, Miss Morano.”

Liar.

This time, I don’t bother hiding the smirk as I bend down to place the coffee cup on his desk, giving him a perfect view of my breasts.

“We’ll see,” I whisper, letting my tongue wet my lower lip before straightening.

His eyes flash with need, but he remains perfectly still.

“If you need anything else, and I mean anything, you just let me know,” I add before turning and walking out of the office, not bothering to close the door behind me.

I’m breathless by the time I sit back down at my desk, and I can only seem to focus on the throbbing heat between my thighs.

Who knew pregnancy made you this horny?

I rub my hands up and down my thighs, almost whimpering with the need to take them higher.

Not yet. I want him to be the one to do it, to beg to taste me as I come. And in order to do that I need to play the game a little longer.

Andre has called me into his office four times today, and three of those were to fetch something from a cabinet. The other was to make him another coffee.

Asshole.

But I did everything he asked with a smile, and made sure to bend over as much as possible, giving him perfect views of my ass and tits throughout the day.

By the fourth time, I caught him screwing his eyes shut as if trying to collect himself.

I knew he would be sporting a hard on all day, and such a thought had me moaning under my breath as I worked, on the verge of running to the storage closet to take care of myself.

I glance at my clock. Almost six. Everyone in the office left at five, but in my new contract I’m not allowed to leave until Andre does or he specifically dismisses me for the day. So, I find myself yawning, wanting nothing more than to stop by my favorite ramen place on the way home to pick up dinner and snuggle under my comforter and watch Friends.

Looking across the corridor into Andre’s office, I find him with his back to me, his phone propped against his ear. He’s been on the phone for almost an hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s hanging up any time soon.

“Screw it,” I mutter, getting to my feet to head to the break room.

I never normally drink coffee so late, and I know I should probably be limiting my intake with the pregnancy, but it’s either caffeine or falling asleep at my desk.

I turn on the Nespresso machine and hunt through the cupboards in search of a clean mug. There’s just enough oat milk left in the fridge for a small cappuccino, so I empty the carton into the milk frother and switch it on. As I drop in an espresso pod and click the machine into action, heavy footsteps approach.

There is only the two of us in the office, so I don’t need to turn to know who it will be.

A war rages inside me as desire to have him take me again battles the need to come out on top this time and maybe deny him, and me, of the pleasure I know is waiting if I let myself go.

He is wrong for me. A mafia boss. My boss. My baby’s father.

He has no idea I’m carrying his child. And I have no idea how to tell him. Or even if I should.

Would he even want this baby?

The steps are so close now.

If I close my eyes, I can almost smell him.

With my eyes closed, all our shared moments play non-stop for my delight. Or maybe to torture me.

The footsteps stop behind me.

I brace my hands on the counter top, my chest heaving as I wait to hear his voice.