All Chapters of Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

CamilaI should have kept the knife.That’s all I can think about as I rip the green dress from my body, throwing it onto the floor of the bedroom like it’s a useless rag. It joins the discarded heels, the only shoes I have since they’re the ones I arrived in. Layla was prescient enough to bring me a few pairs of underwear along with the dress. But now, thinking about that kindness makes me angrier.She knew I’d need clean clothes because she’s in on the plan to keep me here. It’s easy to be mad at her. She’s what set Asher off when I was trying to probe him for information. He picked up on how I was subtly leading him into talking about himself. He’s not an easy man to trick.Remembering how I attacked Asher doesn’t bring me joy. In hindsight, it was a stupid move. Because he’s right. If I’d managed to hurt him, or worse, kill him … What would have happened to me? Somehow, I doubt his men would have just let me waltz out after I killed their boss.And if he’s telling the truth about

Reaching into the pocket of her gray dress, she hands me a small gold wrapper. “Eat. The sugar will help.”Opening the tiny package, I see it’s a hard caramel candy. My mother used to give me these when I was little. Sucking on the candy refuels my energy. “Thank you.”Layla settles beside me on the sofa. She folds her hands neatly on her knees. “You’re troubled about the marriage.”My chuckle is stale and mirthless. “Was it that obvious?”“You must remember that this is all to defeat Yannick.”“Asher said that, yes.”“It’s the truth.”“He also said I’ll be free when it’s over with.” I keep my voice casual. “What if getting rid of him takes a long time? Months or even years.”Layla’s smile is surprisingly tender. “One must do unthinkable things for survival, child.”My molars crack the candy in two; I chew it loudly. “I’m not a child.”“No,” she agrees, looking out at the dresses. “You’re a woman who must choose what she’ll wear to her wedding. That’s not a task for the weak-hearted.”

CamilaI open my eyes, blearily gazing around my bedroom. At first, I don’t notice the young woman hovering at my bedside. When I do, I throw my blankets back and fall off the mattress with a scream.“Please.” She lifts her hands to show she’s not armed. “Calm down!”“Who are you?” I demand, rising to my feet, clutching my silver silk nightgown. “What do you want?”The woman is my age, or close to it. She’s wearing the same starched dress that every other staff member wears. Her pale blonde hair, light as corn fibers, makes her tan skin seem richer. “Miss, I’m Masha. I’m your attendant this morning.”“My what?” Looking from side to side nervously, in case there are others hiding in my room, I approach her around my bed. “I don’t need an attendant.”“Of course you do.” She blinks, giving me a stare that hints she thinks I’m the weird one. “You’re the future wife of Mr. Volkov.”Hearing that makes my whole body flush. “So what? He’s the boss here, not me.”“Miss … you’re my boss as well

CamilaThe dopamine high I’m on lasts a whole day.He’s going to let me keep the studio!Well, not keep it keep it; he still plans on owning it. But that’s only paperwork. The dance studio won’t be bulldozed. It will remain as it was. My memories of that place—and by extension of my father—won’t be turned to dust. He’ll probably pay for upgrades too! He wants to turn a profit, and I know I can do that with a little extra help. I can’t wait until I can go back to teach the students. Mom will faint at the news.But why did Asher have a change of heart? I’ve been trying to figure it out since the conversation ended. All I did was tell him the truth about my father. Asher, normally as frozen as an Alaskan mountain, softened as he listened. The sternness around his mouth melted away. He didn’t look like the man who threw me inside a car or held me down on a kitchen table by my throat.Asher looked … human.“Miss, your bath is ready,” Ollie calls out.Moving from my bed to the bathroom, I m

AsherLayla is standing at the end of the hall. She’s facing a painting, pretending to study the swirling brushstrokes that create the colorful grapevines.“There she is,” I say. “The little spy herself.”“I was doing what you did before, overhearing.”I scoff at her bravado. “It’s good that I did.”Layla turns toward me, her face emotionless. “Oh?”A bark of a laugh explodes out of me. I ruffle my hair. “I told her the truth.”“You did?”“Yes. I can’t believe it either. I’m still shocked at how easy it was. The words just spilled out of me, Layla. Why was it no trouble to tell her about Kristina?”The stiffness in her face blends away until she’s smiling kindly. Her shoes glide across the runner, not disturbing a single fiber. She’s able to move with the grace of a deer. Placing her hand lightly on my wrist, Layla widens her smile.“It was easy because Camila has given you a new purpose.”I withdraw from her touch. “Explain.”“Ever since Kristina died, you’ve been adrift in an ocean