Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

Then she gripped the counter again, trying to breathe through the waves of need crashing over her.

Trying not to think about how badly she wanted Dimitri to pin her against this counter and fuck her until she couldn’t remember her own name.

But she was failing, she couldn’t stop the fire that was starting to burn between her legs.

She splashed water on her face again and again, trying to keep herself conscious until Dimitri arrives, because she knows she couldn’t afford to loose consciousness now.

But she also knew that staying here would be dangerous, because if someone else found her in this situation, someone who isn’t Dimitri...

She didn’t wait for the thought to land, she pulled herself up and stumbled out of the restroom.

***

POV: DIMITRI

Dimitri’s phone buzzed.

Eve’s text.

Something’s wrong Dimitri. I don’t feel right. Can you come get me?

He was on his feet immediately, moving toward the bathroom.

Something was wrong.

Eve didn’t panic. Didn’t ask for help unless she really needed it.

He reached the hallway leading to the bathrooms just as the door opened....

And Eve stumbled out, her face flushed, her eyes unfocused.

”Cara mia....”

She took two steps toward him.

And collapsed.

Dimitri caught her before she hit the marble floor, her body deadweight in his arms.

”EVE!”

Her skin was burning. Fever-hot. Her breathing shallow and fast.

”Someone call 911!” Dimitri shouted.

People were running over now. A crowd forming.

Dimitri laid Eve on the floor, his hand going to her neck to check her pulse.

Strong. Fast. Too fast.

But she was breathing.

”What happened?” Someone asked.

”I don’t know...she was fine and then...” Dimitri’s hands were shaking. ”Eve. Eve, wake up. Look at me.”

A man pushed through the crowd. ”I’m a doctor. Let me see her.”

Dimitri moved aside, watched as the doctor checked Eve’s vitals, lifted her eyelids, checked her pupils.

”Her heart rate is elevated. Pupils dilated. Skin temperature high.” The doctor looked at Dimitri. ”Has she taken any medications tonight? Had anything unusual to drink?”

”No. Nothing. Just champagne and....” Dimitri stopped.

The whiskey.

The whiskey he’d ordered but given to Eve when she’d teased him.

”She had whiskey. My whiskey.”

”Did you drink any of it?”

”No. She finished the glass.”

The doctor’s expression turned grim. ”I think she’s been drugged.”

The words hit Dimitri like a physical blow.

Drugged.

Someone had drugged Eve.

His vision went red.

”What kind of drug?” he demanded.

”I don’t know without tests. But her symptoms....elevated heart rate, flushed skin, dilated pupils, loss of consciousness, could be any number of compounds.” The doctor pulled out his phone. ”We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”

”No.” Dimitri pulled out his own phone, dialed Marco. ”I’m taking her somewhere private. Somewhere secure.”

Marco answered immediately. ”Boss?”

”Lock down the building.” Dimitri’s voice was absolutely lethal. ”No one leaves. No one. I don’t care if it’s the mayor or the fucking pope....if they try to leave, stop them. Break bones if you have to. And find out who drugged Eve’s drink. Check security footage. Question every waiter. Every bartender. Everyone who came near our table.”

”On it.”

”And Marco?” Dimitri’s voice dropped to something even more dangerous. ”When you find out who did this....and you will find out, bring them to me. Alive. I want to have a conversation.”

He hung up, scooped Eve into his arms.

She was still unconscious, her body burning against his.

The crowd parted as Dimitri strode toward the exit, his face a mask of cold fury.

Someone had drugged the woman he loved.

Had tried to hurt her.

Had succeeded in hurting her.

And when he found out who....

They would wish they’d never been born.

Behind him, Marco’s security team was already moving, blocking exits, corralling guests, beginning the interrogation.

The Castellano Gala had just become a crime scene.

And Dimitri Valentino....the Devil himself....was about to remind everyone why they feared his name.

***

POV: ISABELLA

Isabella watched Dimitri carry Eve’s unconscious body out of the ballroom, and felt her entire world collapse.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Eve wasn’t supposed to drink the whiskey.

She wasn’t supposed to collapse.

She wasn’t supposed to.....

”We need to go,” Catarina hissed. ”Right now. Before security locks down the building.”

”They already are.” Isabella watched as Marco’s men started blocking exits. ”Look.”

All around the ballroom, security personnel were moving into position. Calm but firm. Preventing anyone from leaving.

”Then we’re trapped.” Catarina’s voice was tight. ”And when they check the security footage, when they interview the waiters, when they trace this back to you....”

”I know.” Isabella felt numb. Disconnected. ”I know.”

She’d killed Eve Thorne.

Or close enough.

The compound had no antidote. The only relief was sex.

And Eve was unconscious.

Which meant her body would suffer through hours of agony with no way to alleviate it.

All because Isabella had been so obsessed with Dimitri that she’d drugged his drink.

A drink he’d given to Eve.

”I didn’t mean to,” Isabella whispered. ”I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

”That won’t matter to Dimitri.” Catarina gripped her arm. ”When he finds out it was you...and he will find out...he’s going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. And no one will stop him.”

Isabella looked around the ballroom.

Marco’s men were already pulling waiters aside. Checking phones. Reviewing footage.

It was only a matter of time before they identified the waiter Isabella had bribed.

Before that waiter gave her up.

Before Dimitri came for her.

And when he did....

Isabella closed her eyes, felt tears burning behind her lids.

She’d destroyed everything.

The alliance. Her future. Her life.

And worst of all....

She’d hurt an innocent woman.

A woman whose only crime was being loved by the man Isabella couldn’t have.

”I’m sorry,” Isabella whispered to the empty space where Eve had been. ”I’m so sorry.”

But sorry wouldn’t fix this.

Sorry wouldn’t save Eve.

Sorry wouldn’t protect Isabella from what was coming.

Nothing would.