Conquered by the Mafia Boss

#1 Chapter 37



Poor Elena stiffens as my mother throws her arms around her neck and kisses her cheeks, nearly crying in ecstasy.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh my God, she’s so-you’re so beautiful. My son finally has a girlfriend. Come in. Come in!”

Red-faced, Elena smiles and walks in the house as I take a huge breath.

Here we fucking go.

It smells wonderful, but then again, it always does. It doesn’t matter what time of the night it is, whenever I come over my ma insists on feeding me. Typical Italian mom, I guess.

It looks exactly the same as it did when my dad was still alive. Same beaten-up furniture that my ma refuses to replace for some reason that escapes me. It’s as though she expects him to walk in any moment and find everything exactly the way he left it. A pain hits my side whenever I see a photo of him, and they’re everywhere in this fucking house. When he died, it was as though my heart was ripped from my breast.

My petite mom waves Elena inside, motioning toward the kitchen. “Please, sit, sit. Tony, come here and help your mother.”

Elena stands up from the chair. “I can help, too.”

“No, no. Sit down and relax. Have some-oh Jesus, where are my oven mitts!”

Chuckling, I walk into the kitchen and grab the oven mitts from the top of the refrigerator. “Here.”

Ma squints at me through her glasses and takes the mitts from me. “Maddon, I’m losing it. Tony, set the table.”

I grab fists full of silverware and place them around the small table, smiling at Elena, who sits as if her back is attached to a steel rod. She flinches suddenly as I drop my hand over her shoulder and squeeze it.

“Relax, hon.”

Her muscles relax under my hand. She turns her head with a smile as I stroke her back.

“You two look so adorable,” my ma says, smiling at us. “I never thought my son would bring home a girl. It’s been at least ten years since he had a girlfriend-”

“-Ma!”

Jesus fucking Christ, don’t bring that up.

Her smile fumbles under my glare, and I grab a stack of plates, ignoring Elena’s curious stare. My hands shake and the ceramic cracks together noisily. Ma winces.

“Watch it! Those are new!”

“Sorry, Ma.”

The oven blows a cloud of steam into the kitchen as Ma takes out the roast ham and lets it rest on the kitchen counter.

“You never told me how you met each other.”

I sit down next to Elena, finding her hand under the table.

Let me do the talking.

“At Tommy’s bar.”

Ma gets the knife out of the drawer and sticks the meat thermometer in the steaming ham. “And you two hit it off?”

Her fingers tighten around mine. They feel ice cold.

I’ve done drug deals with bikers and I’ve never been this nervous. There’s a golf ball in my throat. My heart pounds and my mouth is dry. “Well-ah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She frowns at me over the ham and finally sets the thermometer down.

“Ma, could you come sit down?”

“What?” Her eyes widen. “What’s wrong? There’s something wrong, isn’t there? I can tell.”

“No, not really-”

Her mouth trembles as she rips off her glasses and wipes her face. Tears burst from her eyes. “You’re going to prison, aren’t you?”

My jaw drops. “No.”

It’s a fucking nightmare. The kitchen echoes with her heart-wrenching sobs, and I take her hand in mine.

“I never wanted you to be in this-your father would turn in his grave if he knew-”

“Ma, I’m not going to jail!”

She leans over the table, her eyes blazing. There’s no trust in her gaze.

I feel like such a scumbag.

“Then what is it? What is it, Tony?”

“I’m pregnant!”

My head snaps to a stunned Elena, whose whole face slowly burns red. She looks as if she can’t believe what she just said.

“What?”

The look my mother gives me makes me wish that I was getting the shit beaten out of me. I feel small. My hand drapes over Elena’s shoulder and I pull her into my chest, rubbing her arm.

“We’re having a baby, Ma.”Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

She rubs her eyes and looks at me as though I must be an apparition.

“You’re having a baby? Elena’s pregnant?”

Elena opens her mouth and gives her a tentative smile. “Yes.”

“You’re going to be a nonna.”


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