His [Book #1]

Chapter 2

14 months later
"Just give mommy ten minutes to get dressed for work," I cooed, offering my son his pacifier.

He refused, continuing to cry despite having been bathed, changed, and fed less than thirty minutes ago.

Ever since I gave birth to him, he's always hated being woken up. Especially in the morning because he gets super cranky.

Although I wish he could sleep a little longer, I haven't found anyone who can babysit for me. So I have to bring him into work with me everyday. Thankfully, my boss at the diner doesn't mind and loves having Mateo around.

Deciding to just leave him to cry so I can get ready, I hurried into my bathroom and stepped into the shower.

I was rinsing the soap off my body and the shampoo out of my hair when suddenly, I no longer heard the shrill cry of my son.

Feeling uneasy, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to grab my towel hanging on the rack. Wrapping the towel around my dripping wet body, I opened the door leading back into my room.

I froze, feeling as though my heart had stopped. I'd lost my breath in that moment, shocked to see the handsome stranger standing in my bedroom with Mateo in his arms.

He was looking down at him, Mateo sleeping peacefully as he slowly rocked him back and forth.

I eyed the two men blocking the doorway and made note of the guns in the waistband of their suit pants.

I thought about my own gun and how it was feet away from me in the drawer of my nightstand.

I had to be smart about this. Especially with the way they cautiously watched my every move.

I also had to think about Mateo's safety. I can't do anything until he's out of harm's way.

"You're a very hard woman to find, mia cara(my dear)," the handsome stranger said, his familiar voice just as husky and sensual as the night we met.

"What are you doing here?" I looked around the room, before focusing my attention back on him. "How did you even get in here?"

He ignored me to ask his own question. A question I wasn't in the slightest bit prepared to answer.

"He's mine, isn't he?"

"What?"

"He's five months, right? So if my math's correct," he looked up, a single dark brow raised in a thinking manner. "Then that would mean it's been exactly a year and two months since my cock was buried in that pretty pussy of yours."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

I looked away, trying to hide the blush on my face as memories of his lips all over my body came flooding back.

He kept his tone calm, his voice filled with warning. "I'm going to ask you one more time and if you lie to me again- you will regret it." He sighed, making sure to keep his voice at minimal volume so he didn't wake Mateo as he asked me once more, "is he mine?"

"Yes," I admitted.

Even if I wanted to convince him otherwise, there was no denying their uncanny resemblance. Mateo had the same dark hair and amber eyes. He was a damn near clone of his father.

Not only that, but I hadn't been with anyone else since our last encounter. Which means Mateo is without a doubt his son.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I thought I caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes, but wasn't totally sure.

"I wanted to, but I didn't have any way of getting in contact with you. And besides, I didn't even know your name."

"It's Tristan. Tristan Agostino Leone Lucci."

Realization hit me at hearing such a familiar sounding name. "Tristan, as in Tristan "The Lion" Lucci? Like the Mafia boss?"

"Sì(yes)," he replied with a single nod of his head.

I've heard terrible things about Tristan and the Mafia he runs. Apparently, he's just one of three Mafias in the state of New Jersey and New York. I haven't personally met them, but I've heard that just mentioning their names runs your blood cold.

I was flabbergasted. Out of all the men in the world why did I have to go and whore it up with a Mafia boss?

Panic began to set in the pit of my stomach. Running on impulse, I practically tripped trying to get to my gun. Swiftly retrieving the polished black weapon, I whipped around to face Tristan.

The two men standing guard withdrew their weapons, aimed and ready as they awaited permission from their boss to take me out.

I stood my ground, determined to get me and my son out of here and as far away from this man as possible.

Tristan chuckled in amusement. I couldn't stop trembling. I was fine until I learned who he really was.

This situation just became a whole lot more complicated.

"Come on mia cara(my dear), you're not really going to shoot me with our son sleeping in my arms, are you?"

I pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened.

The grin on his face widened. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out the bullets he'd taken out of my gun.

"You wound me, sweetheart." He shook his head, making a tsk sound with his mouth as he let the bullets fall to the floor. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his gelled hair. "Before we leave, I need to know that you'll be a good girl." He tilted his head slightly to the side, eyeing me with that stupid devilish grin of his. "Will you be a good girl for me, Sienna?"

I wasn't even surprised that he knew my name. Now that I know he's the leader of a dangerous criminal organization, there was no need to negotiate parental rights.

I didn't want Mateo involved in any of this shit. So if I have to spend my entire life running, then that's what I'll do. Besides, we've been doing just fine without him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I spat out angrily. I stepped towards him so I could grab my son, but he stepped out of reach.

Mateo's eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice, his little cry ringing throughout the tiny bedroom.

"Give me back my son!" I demanded.

"Are you going to behave?" He questioned.

"Fuck you!"

He looked to his men, a stoic expression on his face. Suddenly I felt the prick of a needle in my arm.

I immediately started to sway, my eye lids growing heavy with exhaustion. "What... did you... do to me?"

Tristan of course ignored me, his attention focused on calming Mateo down. "Va bene figliolo. Papà è qui(It's okay son. Daddy's here)," he cooed softly in Italian, still rocking him back and forth in a slow, rhythmic motion.

That's the last thing I heard before I succumbed to the exhaustion wracking through my body and passed out cold.