Knock!
Knock!
I woke up to a peculiar sensation—a warm, small foot pressing against my face. My eyes fluttered open to find Mia sprawled out on the bed like a starfish.
One leg stretched up and rested squarely on my forehead, while the other dangled dangerously off the edge of the mattress. Her hair was a wild, tangled ss, sticking up at odd angles like she’d wrestled a tornado in her dreams. Her tiny fists were clutching her favorite stuffed bunny, Mr. Cottontail, as she snored softly.
If soone were to stumble upon this scene, they’d probably think we’d been caught in a tornado mid-slumber. My pillow was halfway across the room, and the blanket we were sharing had twisted itself into sothing resembling a poorly made burrito.
My own position wasn’t any better—I was half hanging off the bed, one arm awkwardly twisted beneath .
Damn it!
I groaned.
How did single moms in movies always wake up looking like queens? Here I was, my nightshirt half twisted around my torso, one sock missing, and my hair resembling a bird’s nest.
"Mia," I groaned, carefully lifting her leg off my face and shifting her tiny body into a more dignified sleeping position. "You sleep like you’ve been wrestling bears in your dreams."
The knock ca again, more insistent this ti.
She murmured sothing incoherent before snuggling deeper into the remaining pillow. I smiled despite the chaos and tiptoed toward the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was barely dawn, and the last thing I needed was Mia waking up early, especially after last night’s dramatics.
Yawning, I wobbled to the door, muttering about how people should respect the sanctity of early morning sleep.
The knocking on the front door intensified, jolting from my thoughts.
"Alright, alright!" I whispered under my breath, rushing to get it before the sound woke Mia.
Adjusting my nightdress to look halfway decent, I opened it just a crack—and froze. Standing in front of were five n dressed as if they’d stepped straight out of a mob movie.
The one in front—clearly the leader—wore a sleek black suit, the collar of his crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the edge of a swirling tattoo. His eyes were sharp, calculating, and his slicked-back hair gave him an air of authority. The others behind him were equally intimidating, sporting leather jackets, gold chains, and expressions that scread, ’WE’RE BAD NEWS.’
Real-life, actual mobsters at my fucking doorstep!!
For a mont, I just stared and scread in my thoughts.
The leader of the group, the one with the tattoos, gave a curt nod. "Elena Martinez?"
I froze again, my brain short-circuiting.
They know my na?!!
And then, like any sensible person confronted with a group of mafia-looking n at her doorstep, without thinking, I began to shut the door. "Wrong apartnt, sorry—"
Before I could lock it, Tattoo Guy’s hand shot out, stopping the door with surprising ease. His lips twitched into a smirk. "Why the rush, Ms. Martinez? We’re not here to hurt you."
"Well, excuse for not trusting a bunch of guys who look like they walked out of a cri docuntary!" I shot back, my voice low but sharp. "And for the record, I don’t owe anyone money, I didn’t break any laws, and I’m definitely not interested in whatever shady deal you’re offering."
The group erupted into laughter, and I couldn’t tell if they were amused or mocking . Either way, it was annoying.
The one in sunglasses chuckled. "You think we’re salesn?"
I squinted at him. "Yes, even possibly debt collectors or hitn. Either way, bad news."
I tried to yank the door closed again.
Tattoo Guy leaned in slightly, his voice calm but firm. "Relax. We’re not here to collect money or break legs, if that’s what you’re worried about."
"Oh, great," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms. "Then why are you here?"
The leader’s smirk widened. "Our boss sent us to fetch you. He’s made arrangents for you to move in with him."
"But I’m doing this for my daughter." I finally responded.
His smirk softened into sothing almost resembling respect. "Understood."
As we followed him into a separate car that looked too expensive for us peasants, I glared over my shoulder wondering what trick they planned to use.
I couldn’t help muttering under my breath, "This better not turn into a soap opera."
MOVE in with him...
Move in with HIM...
The mobsters’ expressions softened instantly. Tattoo Guy even smiled.
Fuck all these two-faced n! How dare they try to pull one over on us again by pretending to be nice guys.
"Mia," I said quickly, stepping in front of her. "Go back to bed, sweetheart. Mommy’s just talking to these... gentlen."
But Mia, being Mia, ignored completely and toddled over to the n. She looked up at Tattoo Guy with wide, curious eyes. "Are you Uncle Leo’s friends?"
Tattoo Guy crouched down, eting her gaze. "We sure are, kiddo."
"Cool!" she exclaid, grinning. "Mommy, can they stay for breakfast?"
No!
That was my initial reaction; however, after taking several deep breaths, I realized how suspicious that would look so instead I took another approach: denial and compromise.
"Sure, sweetie," I answered cautiously. It wasn’t like we had much choice anyway.
Tattoo Guy grinned broadly, then scooped Mia into his arms without waiting for our answer or permission.
"Please put her down!" The words practically flew past my lips while I grabbed hold of Mia’s wrist.
He glanced around briefly until spotting the others and turned his attention ba
It took a second to process his words, and when I did, I let out a laugh so loud it startled them. "Move in with him? That’s the most ridiculous—wait. Who’s your boss?"
The n shared a knowing look, and I didn’t like it one bit. Finally, Sunglasses spoke up. "Take a wild guess."
"You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know any bosses, and I’m certainly not moving in mob circles." I argued.
Tattoo Guy leaned casually against the doorfra, his piercing gaze never leaving mine. "You sure about that? Because our boss was very clear. He said to bring you and... everything you need."
"Everything I need?" I echoed, my voice rising. "Why would I go anywhere with—"
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