The Badass Mafia Boss Queen

I couldn’t claim I didn’t want him anymore, because I do. I couldn’t keep throwing this forced marriage in his face if I clearly enjoyed being with him. Secondly, I just let him fuck me without protection. Without protection!

I’ve always been insanely careful about things like that. I had to get an implant last year because I couldn’t help forgetting to take my pills. I always made use of condoms. Always! I’ve never in my entire life, even as a young girl, let someone have this level of intimacy with me before.

Not only was it a huge deal to me, but Hollis’s sexual life before now was something to worry about. Which meant I could get an STD. Oh, God. But even as these important thoughts were crossing my mind, so was another one.

Hollis was shot. He was shot, and I could feel the hot, sticky blood from his wound moving down my side and soaking my dress. My hands pressed into his chest and pushed him backwards.

“Jesus! We are definitely crazy. You’re bleeding,” I told him, pointing to his torso, feeling a little overwhelmed and, well, kind of horrified.

“And you’re dripping with my cum,” he said, making my whole body jolt at his words.

“You’re an asshole,” I snapped, shoving him back a step so I could slip off the counter.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who wants to fuck me,” he agreed as I waddled toward the shower.

Thankfully, he was busy getting his cock back in his boxer briefs and pants, so he wasn’t looking. Reaching in, I turned the shower on full tilt before ripping off my dress, and moving inside.

Looking down, I could see his blood spread all over my stomach and my dress on the floor. I looked like a freaking crime scene. I went right to scrubbing at the blood on my skin with the soap until all traces of it were off me before I even let my gaze slip back toward the rest of the bathroom.

And there was Hollis, bent forward, looking down at his wound. One hand was placed over the top of it, stretching his skin, while the other hand reached for a long tweezer, and started to dig inside his wound.

My stomach roiled at the image, making my gaze slip away. But even with my gaze averted, the image stayed in my mind, forcing me to take slow, deep breaths, while trying desperately to fight back the bile that rose to my throat. I was vaguely aware a moment later of a slight ringing sound, like the bullet dropping into the sink. Which only managed to make another wave of nausea move through my system.

The shower door swung open and Hollis moved into the space and stood under one of the sprays. The bathroom was built just like the one in our home at the Garden. The difference was just the colors and quality of things used.

As I stood under the spray, it felt like Hollis was sucking up all the air in the space. Or maybe that was just because I was starting to feel a little woozy from the whole fishing of a bullet out of his own body.

“Is it the blood?” Hollis asked a moment later in a serious tone.

Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Ugh…” I struggled to find the words, pressing a hand to my neck, practically tasting the bile that must have risen to my throat.

“Go to the bedroom,” Hollis said in a kind, worried and soft tone. “Go to bed,” he added.

“You have a bullet wound in your stomach.” I insisted.

“I will have Maxine stitch it,” he told me.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, not even bothering to turn off the shower head I was standing under as I rushed out of the enclosure.

I grabbed a towel and went into the bedroom, then found my way to the bed. I sat down and took deep breaths while trying to get myself together. As soon as I was sure I could move around without getting sick, I slipped into some of Hollis’s shirts and pants I found in the wardrobe and threw myself under the covers in the bed.

That would have been my chance to overthink having sex with Hollis, to question why his uncle pointed a gun directly at me, but my mind was occupied with something else. It wasn’t long before I heard Maxine come up and went into the bathroom. Where I knew he was going to stitch Hollis’s wound without making use of any local anesthesia.

The thought of that kept me occupied with my nausea until, eventually, I passed out from all the events of the day.

…….

I woke up the next morning in Hollis’s room. I was no longer in the bedroom underground. I had no memory of leaving the underground room. But I knew without doubt that Hollis had a hand in it.

I turned to the side of the bed, it was empty. Breakfast was already laid out on the mini dining table at the farther end of the room.

I threw the covers aside and climbed out of bed. Then I saw a note on the bedside table. I brought it closer and read through it.

“I’m with my father and Max. Eat some food. I’ll be back soon.”

I stared at Hollis’s handwriting. It was so primal, so male, authentic, not sure I’ve gotten the right word to describe it yet.

I went through breakfast, had a quick bath and changed into a plain shirt and three-quarter-length shorts I saw in Hollis’s wardrobe.

Not sure of what else to do, I pushed the door open a little at first. Then I pushed my head to check for safety. I saw Rocco standing a few feet away from the door.

‘Oh great, I have a bodyguard. So it’s kinda safe then.’

I stepped out and waved at him. He flashed a smile and remained standing, still. I walked down the Veranda and he followed behind, maintaining a safe distance.

I was curious, I wanted to visit the dining room to see what finally became of the place when we left for safety yesterday. But to my surprise, the dining room was sparkling and well-arranged.

If I wasn’t present last night, I would have doubted that utensils and furnitures got broken and tossed around in that same room. As I turned to leave, I saw Britney walk past the room.

She must have seen me, because she turned back and stopped at the door, smiling cheerfully.

“Good morning, Ugo.” She greeted me.