I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. novel Chapter 36

Madeleine

𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡

I sat on the stainless steel stool, one gloved hand gently bracing a very grumpy gray tabby named Junebug as she flicked her tail and made her displeasure loudly known to the room.

“Watch the hind leg,” Professor Kline said, half-distracted as he passed behind me, “They’re quick when they want to be.”

“I know, I know,” I murmured, more to Junebug than to him, “I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Just checking your pads. That’s all.”

Her ear flicked as if in acknowledgment.

The room buzzed with the sounds of clippers, conversations, and the occasional bark from the adjacent kennel room. My partner for the day, Samira, was focused on prepping the next set of nail trimming supplies, her black curls tucked into a tight bun, eyes narrowed in concentration.

I should’ve been focused. I wanted to be.

But my phone sat in the pocket of my scrub top. Every few minutes I imagined it vibrating. I imagined him messaging again.

He hadn’t.

Not since last night.

Not since I...

God.

What was wrong with me?

I’d stared at that photo for the whole night. The one of me naked, standing before a mirror. Trying to be... I don’t know. Something I wasn’t. Something bold or sexy, or... desirable. I’d taken it for someone I couldn’t see. Someone who made me feel like I had to.

I didn’t even know his name.

Just the messages, just the way he spoke to me.

I kept thinking... What if it’s Carlos? But that didn’t feel right. Carlos was stupid, yes. Mean sometimes but clumsy, lazy in his lies. He couldn't pull that off even if he tried, plus that person had been texting me before Carlos and I broke up.

And this... this man was methodical. He made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. Shame and heat and fear and want. A dirty, aching kind of want.

“Maddie,” Samira said, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I blinked.

“Oh. Sorry. What?”

“You’re holding her paw too tight. You okay?”

I loosened my grip on Junebug immediately. The cat gave a low growl and turned her face toward me, annoyed.

“Yeah. Just distracted.”

Samira gave me a once-over. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

I smiled, “Just studying late. You know how it is.”

She didn’t look convinced, but thankfully didn’t press.

Professor Kline passed us again and said, “Don’t forget to note the swelling on digit two. Mild inflammation.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, writing quickly on my chart sheet, but my fingers fumbled with the pen. I kept imagining that picture, not of me taking it, but of him seeing it, saving it, zooming in.

Would he send it back to me someday? To prove he had it? Would he show someone else? To Adriano?

Would he hurt me?

My stomach twisted. I pulled off my gloves and excused myself to the hallway.

The corridor outside the lab was lined with bulletin boards and vending machines, posters of smiling dogs and happy kittens pinned up. I leaned against the cool wall and pulled my phone from my pocket.

No new messages.

Nothing.

I stared at the last text he’d sent me.

Did you feel powerful, knowing I was looking at you like that? Knowing I’d do anything for more?

I swallowed hard. I hated that I’d read it five times, maybe ten, maybe even more.

I locked the screen and tucked the phone back into my scrub top. What if it was someone from here? One of the techs at the clinic? Someone at school?

I shook the thought away and returned to the lab, cheeks hot, body numb. Junebug was already tucked away and Samira was moving on to the next patient, a golden retriever named Max who looked like he’d swallowed a beach ball.

After college, I went straight to the restaurant. The bus groaned and hissed as it pulled away from the curb. I stepped off and wrapped my arms tighter around my chest even though it wasn't that cold.

I pulled open the back door to Velluto Rosso and stepped inside, the clatter of prep in the kitchen, the soft hiss of steam from the coffee machine, someone laughing too loud near the wine fridge. I ducked my head, avoided eye contact.

In the locker room, I changed quickly. Shirt, pants, hair pulled up. I scrubbed my hands in the little sink, watching the water bead on my skin. My fingers looked pale and wrung out. I checked my phone again before clocking in, still nothing.

Maybe it was someone in the kitchen. Tom, with his too-loud voice or Daniel, who always looked like he was about to tell me a secret but never did. Or the dishwasher who never said a word at all.

They could all be him.

I swallowed hard and stepped onto the floor, past the wine bar, past the velvet booths, into the far corner where the vegan section lived.

I slipped into the employee bathroom and locked the door.

Checked my phone again.

Still nothing.

My reflection in the mirror looked pale, with that kind of nervous flush that made me look more alive than I felt. I tugged my collar higher. I hadn’t even worn anything revealing but I still felt exposed.

I wanted to cry but my shift wasn’t over. I still had tables to serve and specials to remember and smiles to fake. And somewhere in this building, maybe someone knew what I looked like under my clothes.

Maybe someone had saved it.

Maybe someone was thinking about me right now, even as I tried to disappear.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket, fixed my smile in the mirror, and went back out into the dining room.

I kept my head down, and served tables.

My hands twitched as I slipped behind the service wall. I told myself I wouldn’t check again, that I’d wait until break but my fingers moved anyway.

I pulled out my phone under the counter, just to see if the notification bar had changed.

Someone clicked their tongue and I turned to see Paula.

“Livia should really know,” she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “We’re not supposed to be on our phones during service. You know that, right Maddie?”

I looked up, “I—I was just—”

“She was just checking her texts,” Paula said brightly, now turning toward the front of house, “Mid-shift. Right behind the cutlery station.”

And then Livia emerged, “What. Are. You. Doing.”

I stood straighter, phone already tucked away, palms sweating. “I wasn’t— It was just for a second—”

“A second is all it takes to miss a plate, or a guest, or a tray falling,” Livia snapped, “Do you think this is some café on Milwaukee Avenue? This is Velluto Rosso. Not a high school part-time job.”

I could feel the heat prickling my cheeks, my ears and my spine. I knew everyone was listening. Even the busboys had stopped polishing their glasses. The back kitchen door had swung half open, and the line cooks were pretending not to look. I wanted to vanish, evaporate and crawl into the drain under the espresso machine and disappear forever.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I sniffed, clutching at his shirt, I felt like I might float off the planet if I let go.

His arm tightened slightly.

“And sometimes... sometimes I miss Carlos so much... so damn much it makes me sick. I know I shouldn’t. I know he cheated on me but I can’t help it, okay? I miss it. I miss the way it used to be. I miss the good times. Isn’t that pathetic?” I clung to him, “We had good days, not always, but... enough to make it hurt now. Five years. Five years and he hasn’t even reached out, not even once. Not a text, not a call, not a single sorry.”

A sob slipped out. “It’s like I didn’t even matter to him. He forgot me the second I walked away. And I just—” I hiccupped. “I keep wondering, doesn’t he miss me like I miss him? Doesn’t he ever think about me when he’s alone? Doesn’t he regret what he did? Because I do. I regret so much. I fell for him when I was sixteen, and it’s like... I don’t even know who I am without him.”

His hand moved up, threading into my hair.

My voice broke and I breathed in through my nose, hard.

“I did something really... really stupid, Adriano. Like, life-ruiningly stupid. And I can’t take it back. And now I don’t know what’s gonna happen or who I can trust, and I just—” I looked up at him, eyes stinging, heart sprinting in my chest. “I feel like I’m drowning. And I don’t even deserve to be saved. I’m just this... this pathetic little mess who can’t stop screwing up.”

I finally leaned back a little, just enough to look up at him. My face was blotchy, my nose probably red. I probably looked like a raccoon that got hit by a truck but he was just watching me, like nothing I said could make him look away.

His hand moved again, slow against my back.

I sniffed and started to lean back fully, out of his space, but his hand pressed a little firmer at my spine. He didn't want me to move away from him.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked, his grey eyes darting all over my face.

I sniffled again, “What?”

He tilted his head slightly, mouth twitching like he was amused, “If you really were a damsel in distress who needs me to rescue her every five minute? Would that really be so bad? Because, I don't mind, sunshine.”

My whole body went still.

“I don’t want to be—” I started, then faltered because I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I didn’t want to be weak, maybe, or needy. Or this... exposed. But none of those words were honest, not when I was melting into his touch like I needed it.

“Some girls need someone to show up for them,” he murmured, “There’s no shame in that, no weakness, needing someone isn’t a flaw. You don’t drain me, Madeleine,” he murmured. “You don’t exhaust me. You don’t take up space I don’t have. You fit.”

Something twisted in my stomach, something devastatingly warm because I believed him. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world... for me to need him.

He reached up, gently brushed a thumb beneath my eye where a tear clung, and let his touch linger.

“I don’t mind being in your mess,” he added, “I like it, knowing you trust me enough to come undone here, with me.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my chest loosened and my hands unclenched. The shame that had been strangling me slowly started to slip off my shoulders, piece by piece.

Because I didn’t do it just to be reckless. I didn’t do it because I was stupid.

I did it for him, didn’t I?

To be the version of myself that didn’t disappoint him.

I wanted to be wanted by him. I didn’t want him to look at me the way Carlos had like I was something easily outgrown.

And if being a little braver, if taking that risk meant he’d keep looking at me like I was worth something, then maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Maybe it was okay.

His thumb brushed away the tear on my cheek, and then it slid down, until he was holding my face, “You said you missed your family,” he murmured, “Do you want to see them?”

I shook my head quickly, because the thought physically hurt. “I can’t,” I whispered. “Even if I wanted to... it’s not possible. The people they owe, they’re not gonna just let them walk away. Not until the debt’s gone. And they—” my breath hitched, “they want me as the payment.”

I looked down, tears slipping again. “I can’t go back. They can’t come here. It’s just... never gonna happen.”

Then his fingers slid back into my hair, and he tilted my face up until I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

And he just smiled.