Pregnant By A Mafia Boss

Chapter One

Amelia Martinez rummaged through her dresser drawer, her eyes squinting against the sun's gentle rays that filtered through the blinds. The anticipation of a summer day by her father's pool tugged at her, and she eagerly searched for her bikini. It was a rare moment of leisure in her otherwise busy life.

She shed her sweatpants and tank top, slipping into the sleek black bikini. Delicate gold hoops connected the thin straps that held up the bottom, while the top wrapped around her neck in a halter style, accentuating her curves. Amelia frowned at her reflection, aware of her father's disapproval. To Eli Martinez, she was still his little princess who should never dare to wear such scandalous attire. But she was no longer a child. At twenty-two, it was time for her to break free from her self-imposed restrictions. Her education had consumed her adult life, but now she sought independence.

Her father had never understood her desire to go to college, let alone her refusal to attend the local university. He likely believed that she would come crawling back once her college days were over, forced to return home due to a lack of job prospects. And now, even securing an apartment seemed impossible. Rejection followed every job and housing application, despite her impressive academic achievements and substantial savings. It didn't make sense, unless her father was somehow involved.

"But you don't need a job, Princess," she mocked, mimicking her father's deep voice. "Everything you'll ever need is right here. I'll take care of you."

Amelia knew her father would indeed take care of her, but she yearned to stand on her own two feet. She was no longer a child in need of constant protection. With her blonde hair, blue eyes, and shapely figure, she had always been told she was beautiful. She noticed how her father's men averted their eyes and spoke in hushed tones whenever he was around. But she had been too focused on her studies to pay much attention to men, even in college. Today, however, she would begin her plan to ruffle her father's feathers, to make him reconsider his stance on her applications.

After applying a touch of lip gloss, she slid her sunglasses on and draped a sheer cover-up over her body. With her pool bag slung over her shoulder, she hurried from her room and descended the stone steps.

Eli Martinez was a wealthy man, the head of the city's Bratva, making him one of the most powerful figures in the region. His mansion reflected his status, filled with expensive artwork, luxury furniture, and lavish decorations acquired through questionable means. But Amelia barely spared it a glance. This opulent environment had always been her home, never a source of fascination.

Humming a catchy pop song that had been stuck in her head, she pushed open the glass door leading to the deck and stepped onto the dark stained wood, feeling its warmth beneath her bare feet. A walkway guided her towards the gazebo situated in the center of the pool. On the far side, a fountain sprayed water into an exquisite formation. Beautiful blue and purple flowers adorned the wrought-iron privacy fence, while an outdoor bar and snack station nestled in the corner.

This space brought Amelia a sense of tranquility. Her father rarely used the pool, reserving it for occasional parties. Otherwise, it remained peaceful. Brimming with excitement and a spring in her step, she followed the walkway until she reached the island in the middle of the pool. Dropping her bag beside a lounge chair, she discarded her cover-up and approached the edge, dipping her toes into the water to gauge its temperature. A swirl of red caught her eye, and she furrowed her brow.

Amelia caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, and panic surged through her veins. It wasn't until she turned her head and recognized the figure that she began to scream.

Her father's lifeless body floated face down in the water, surrounded by his own blood.

"Daddy!" she shrieked. "Daddy! Help!"

Whirling around to call for her father's guards, her foot slipped off the edge. Her screams echoed through the air as she crashed onto the wooden surface before plunging into the frigid water. Panic gripped her as she descended, her voice now muffled by the water. The coldness enveloped her, and she sank deeper, disoriented. When she hit the pool's bottom, she instinctively pushed herself upward, but the swirling blood disoriented her further, trapping her in a state of hysteria.

Amelia was normally a strong swimmer, but the horrifying realization that she was trapped in the pool with her father's lifeless body paralyzed her with fear.Her body thrashed against the water's surface as strong hands pulled her from the pool. Gasping for air, she fought against her attacker, her screams echoing through the air.

"Amelia! Amelia, you have to stop screaming. Amelia! It's just me!"

The voice, familiar and soothing, finally broke through her fear. Amelia sucked in a breath, coughing and spluttering as she attempted to regain her composure. Bradley, one of her father's guards, swiftly wrapped a towel around her trembling form.

"Daddy," she gasped, turning her head to catch another glimpse of her father. "Bradley, someone..."

Bradley firmly held her head, preventing her from looking back. "Amelia, listen to me. We need to go."

"Go? Go where? We have to call the police."

"We will," he assured her, his voice gentle. "We will. But whoever shot your father could still be here, and your safety is our top priority. We need to leave now. I need you to calm down and breathe."

Her heart pounded against her chest as she buried her head into his chest. A speck of red caught her eye, a reminder of the bloody water she had been immersed in. She shuddered. Bradley tenderly stroked her wet hair, guiding her away from the pool.

"Craig," he spoke in hushed tones. "We need to get her out of here. Have Ivan call the police and conduct a thorough search of the grounds. We want to handle this internally, within the boundaries of the law. Meet me at the safe house afterwards."

Craig mumbled a response, but Amelia could barely make out the words. Blood roared in her ears, the image of her father's lifeless body etched in her mind, overpowering any fear for her own safety.

"Daddy," she whispered. "Who would do this?"

"Your father had many enemies," Bradley replied, his arm wrapped protectively around her as he guided her towards the garage. "Amelia, I need you to focus, at least until we reach safety. Can you do that?"

She stumbled along, devoid of any resistance. Opening the passenger door of a nearby car, Bradley gently placed her inside. Drenched and shivering, Amelia hugged herself tightly, rocking back and forth. "Daddy..."

Moaning softly, she barely registered when Bradley started the car. He sped away from the house, the trees blurring past them. Her father was gone. Her father was gone. The words played on loop in her mind, an agonizing refrain.

"Son of a bitch!" Bradley suddenly yelled, slamming on the brakes. Jolting forward, Amelia instinctively raised her arms, hitting the dashboard with a sharp thud. Pain shot through her body, snapping her out of the trance-like state. She screamed. "Put on your seatbelt," Bradley hissed.

Twisting her head, she spotted another car driving dangerously close alongside them. The driver wore a hood, concealing their features, but their intentions were clear. With a sudden jerk of the wheel, the car swerved perilously close to hers. Windows shattered as something whizzed by her head, and she instinctively ducked.

"Bradley!" she shrieked.

Her bodyguard unleashed a string of curses and pressed hard on the accelerator. Amelia glanced at the speedometer, her breath catching in her throat. One wrong move, and they would crash into the guardrail. But the other car remained persistently beside them.

Abruptly, Bradley slammed on the brakes once more, causing the other car to surge forward. Reversing swiftly, he turned his head and sped back towards the previous street. Shifting gears, he jerked the car onto a side street.

"Why would someone want to kill me?" she whispered, her eyes darting around frantically, searching for any signs of danger.

"Think, Amelia," Bradley spoke softly. "You may have unknowingly seen the killer."

"But I didn't," she gasped. "I didn't see or hear anything. Just Daddy floating in the water." Her stomach churned, and she pressed a trembling hand against it, attempting to steady herself with shaky breaths.

"You're in shock," he said grimly. "You might not have realized what you saw or heard. There's a reason someone is trying to kill you, Amelia. They believe you witnessed something."

She closed her eyes, desperately trying to block out the horrifying images. "What do I do, Bradley? What am I supposed to do?"

"Your father made sure you would be taken care of," he replied softly. "You don't have to worry about that. But we need to ensure that whoever killed your father doesn't succeed in taking your life."

Just an hour ago, she had been furious at her father for preventing her from moving out. Now, he was dead, and the likelihood of ever returning home seemed slim.

"I won't always be here for you, Princess," her father's words echoed in her mind. "You need to pay attention. I'm trying to teach you how to protect yourself."

It had never crossed her mind that he was right. He wouldn't always be there, and now someone wanted her dead.

Chapter Two

Amelia found herself lost in a haze, unsure of what was happening around her. Time seemed to stand still one moment and then rush by in a blur the next. She went through the motions of waking up, going to bed, but the moments in between were an enigma.

Bradley and Craig were constantly by her side, never letting her out of their sight. Within the safe confines of the small, yet well-furnished apartment just outside of town, she aimlessly wandered, desperately trying to gather her thoughts.

A bag of clothes awaited her upon her arrival at the apartment. Once the police had released the crime scene, she had returned to collect more of her belongings. However, her bodyguards insisted she couldn't stay there, and truth be told, she didn't really want to either.

The day of her father's funeral was accompanied by a somber, overcast sky. Amelia sat in the pew, sandwiched between Craig and Bradley. Her uncle Kyle, her father's twin and her only living relative, occupied the pew behind them. She hadn't heard from him since the murder.

A bullet to the temple, a .38 caliber weapon. Amelia had grown up surrounded by firearms, so she could easily envision the gun that had stolen her father's life. The authorities speculated that the killer had used a silencer, shooting her father just minutes before she had entered the pool area. He was dead before his body hit the water.

She tried to find solace in the fact that he hadn't suffered, but it did little to ease her pain. Her father was gone. Their last conversation had been filled with anger and resentment.

"Why? Why would you want to move out? Why do you want to leave me?" he had demanded.

"Daddy, I'm an adult. Did you think I would live here forever? College is over. I want to explore the world. I want to have my own place."

"I'm not stopping you," he replied coldly.

"But you are! You're sabotaging my applications! I know it's you! You're driving me insane! You're treating me like a prisoner!"

A lump formed in her throat, but she fought to keep her composure. This was not the time to fall apart.

"Amelia?" Craig whispered, concern etched on his face. "Do you want to step outside for some fresh air?"

"Is it almost over?" she asked in a dull, hollow tone. "I can't breathe."

He enveloped her in a comforting embrace, gently squeezing her. "Yes, almost. Just hold on a little longer."

Craig and Bradley had been with her father since she was a child. Back then, they were arrogant teenagers seeking recognition in the mafia world. Now, they were practically family. Knowing they were there to protect her was the only source of comfort she had left. They were like her older brothers, and she trusted them implicitly.

Finally, a soft prayer marked the end of the service, and Amelia stood up. All that remained now was the burial at the cemetery, and then she could retreat to her bed with a bottle of wine, attempting to drown her sorrows.

Amelia turned to face the congregation, finding the pews packed with mourners. Her father's territory was vast, and despite the violence and bloodshed that stained their business, he had always protected those in need. Half the city had come to pay their respects, and it felt as though all eyes were on her.

"Do you think he's here?" she murmured numbly. "Do you think the man who took my father's life is watching me?"

"Come on," Craig urged, nudging her gently. "This isn't about the killer. It's about your father. Focus on that."

Nodding, she swallowed the lump in her throat and took a step toward the aisle. Heads bowed in reverence, waiting for her to make her way to the door. Everyone except one person. She froze when a stranger stepped in front of her, holding the door open.

"Ms. Martinez," he spoke in a low voice.

Amelia looked up, captivated by his presence. Tall with dark hair, his crystal blue eyes were devastatingly beautiful, momentarily distracting her from her grief. She had seen him occasionally leaving closed-door meetings with her father, but she had never paid much attention to him. She didn't even know his name.

Those piercing eyes never wavered as he held the door open for her, waiting patiently for her to pass through.

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

He nodded solemnly but said nothing more. Bradley urged her forward, but Craig paused to exchange a few hushed words with the stranger. For a fleeting moment, Amelia wondered if this striking man had been the one responsible for her father's death. Was he toying with her now?

"Who is that?" she asked, pausing and turning her head. Craig was already catching up to them.

"His name is Johnny Thompson," Bradley growled quietly. "Come on, Amelia. We have to go. Everyone is waiting for you."

Dutifully, she lowered her gaze and followed her bodyguards. They flanked her on both sides, their eyes scanning the crowd for any potential threats."Do you truly believe that someone would dare to strike at me here, at my father's funeral?" Amelia's voice quivered with a mix of disbelief and fear.

Craig's response was firm, his eyes filled with concern. "Given the urgency of the situation, there's no doubt that they would seize this opportunity to harm you."

The words struck her like a lightning bolt, causing a shudder to ripple through her. She retreated into herself, consumed by a surge of intense emotions. Grief and fear mingled, but soon another feeling took hold—rage. The unfairness of it all overwhelmed her. She should have been given the space to mourn her father's death, not forced to fear for her own life.

The procession from the domed Russian Orthodox church to the gravesite was accompanied by only a few cars. The lowering of the casket into the grave was an intimate moment reserved for those closest to Eli. Apart from Kyle, everyone present was a business associate. Amelia had spent her childhood acting out, convinced that her father cared more for his men than for her. It felt strange to share this solemn occasion with them.

As she approached the grave, the sun warmed her skin, but a frown creased her forehead. The clouds had dissipated, leaving behind a sense of unease. It didn't feel right. The wind should have howled, and thunder should have rolled, but instead, the day seemed to transform into something pleasant. Beautiful even.

Just another reminder that life refused to pause even in her darkest moments.

"I'll go have a look around," Bradley said in a hushed tone.

Craig nodded, his troubled expression evident. Amelia sought comfort by taking his arm, allowing him to guide her toward the row of metal folding chairs arranged in front of the open grave. Once again, she found herself in the spotlight, forced to sit front and center.

She retrieved her sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on, feeling a bit more hidden. A bit safer.

Most of the people emerging from the cars parked behind hers were vaguely familiar. Guards. Business associates and their wives. Amelia listened to their hushed whispers and scanned the crowd. One man stood out, causing her to inhale sharply.

Johnny Thompson. What was he doing here? A couple of men trailed behind him. His gaze seared through her, openly assessing her body. Amelia felt a strange sense of relief that he couldn't see her eyes.

His face hardened, and he scowled before turning away. Amelia watched, captivated, as Bradley approached Johnny and whispered something in his ear. Johnny nodded, and Bradley made his way toward the back of the cemetery.

"Amelia?" Craig's soft voice interrupted her thoughts, urging her to move forward.

"Who is that man?" she asked, her attention still fixated on Johnny.

"We've told you. His name is—"

"Not his name," she interjected hastily. "Why is he important?"

Before Craig could respond, a shadow fell over them, and Amelia looked up. Kyle Martinez settled down beside her, taking her hand in his.

"My dear Amelia," he whispered, pressing her hand against his lips.

"Uncle," Amelia acknowledged, a tinge of discomfort lacing her words. There was a time when her uncle had always been present, but as she grew older, she sensed the animosity between him and her father. Eli never spoke of it, and Kyle always attended family gatherings, yet there was an undeniable coldness between them.

"I apologize for my absence, but I have been keeping a watchful eye on you," Kyle murmured softly. "I will ensure your safety."

With Eli gone and no son to succeed him, Kyle should have been the next in line to lead the Bratva. Yet, Amelia had never seen him display much interest in it. His absence hadn't been particularly noticeable, as she wasn't accustomed to his presence in the first place. There must have been a multitude of responsibilities he had to attend to.

"It's alright, Uncle. I understand," she replied, mustering a trembling smile. Kyle was her father's younger brother, albeit by mere minutes. They were fraternal twins, but there was an undeniable resemblance. Though Eli had grayed and developed wrinkles around his eyes, while Kyle dyed his hair, Amelia couldn't help but see her father in him.

He made her heart ache.

As everyone took their seats, the priest stepped forward to deliver the closing statements. His voice seemed distant, muffled, and it was only when the attendees rose that Amelia realized he had finished speaking. It felt as though bricks were tied to her feet as she approached the stand holding a pile of roses next to the casket. Taking one delicately by the stem, she stood at the edge of the grave, inhaling a shaky breath."I would give anything to erase every fight we had," she whispered, her voice barely audible against the solemn backdrop of the casket. "I would hold onto every precious second we shared. It never crossed my mind that I would have to face a life without you. I miss you, Daddy."

With a heavy heart, she gently tossed a rose onto the casket, wiping away the relentless tears that flowed down her cheeks. As she turned to retreat slowly towards the line of cars, a sudden urgency pierced through the air, freezing her in her tracks.

"Amelia! Stop," Craig's voice called out, tinged with panic. She could hear the fear in his voice as he rushed towards her, grabbing her wrists protectively and pulling her behind him.

"What is it?" she asked frantically, her eyes scanning the surroundings. Men around them were reaching for concealed weapons, their movements betraying the imminent danger lurking in the shadows. "What's happening?"

Peering cautiously from behind Craig, she watched as a sleek black Bentley passed by the line of cars, its tinted windows concealing its ominous intentions. The air crackled with tension, leaving no doubt that whoever was inside meant harm.

As the car disappeared from sight, Amelia finally allowed herself to relax, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon her. "How did you know?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It's my duty to protect you," he replied in a hushed tone. "You're not safe."

"You keep saying that," she retorted, her frustration seeping through her words.

A soft, indulgent smile touched Craig's lips as he shook his head. "I mean it's not safe for you to be with me anymore. You need more protection than what we can provide. Amelia, I think you should stay with the new head of the Bratva until we can tie up loose ends. We've already spoken to him, and he's agreed."

"Uncle Kyle?" Amelia questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I suppose that's alright."

Craig's voice was replaced by a new one, rough and commanding. "Not Kyle," the voice asserted. "You'll be staying with me."

Amelia's eyes widened as Johnny came into view, standing far too close for comfort. The intensity radiating from him was overwhelming, sending shivers down her spine.

"Craig?" she asked hesitantly. "I don't understand."

"Your father named Johnny as his successor two months ago. Everything now belongs to him. He'll be taking over the Bratva, and he'll be able to protect you," Craig explained, his voice void of any emotion.

Confusion and doubt clouded her gaze as she looked past him towards her uncle. "Why wouldn't my father choose Uncle as the successor?"

"Kyle has different plans for his future," Craig answered neutrally.

"Although Craig and Bradley have done a commendable job protecting you, until we catch your father's murderer, you're still in grave danger. You should stay with me," Johnny interjected, his voice low and commanding.

"I don't know you," she murmured uncertainly.

"You don't have to," he responded gruffly. "But it's crucial that you stay alive. If this transition is to proceed smoothly, I need to prove that I can protect what belongs to me."

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her voice. "I'm not yours."

A faint smile tugged at Johnny's lips. "As the daughter of my predecessor, you are mine by association. Whether you choose to stay with me or not is up to you, but it won't make me disappear. Your safety is my top priority."

"Keeping me alive to gain the loyalty of my father's followers," she murmured, her voice laced with skepticism. "It seems rather calculating, doesn't it?"

"Do my intentions truly matter?" he countered.

Craig placed a comforting hand on her arm. "Please, Amelia. I beg you to accept his protection. I'll still be there for you."

Amelia could see the exhaustion etched on Craig's face, evidence of sleepless nights and constant vigilance. It would be foolish not to accept a little more help, but Johnny's presence made her feel small and vulnerable. Instinctively, she wanted to run from him.

"Will you be moving into my home?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of him inhabiting the space where she had grown up unsettled her.

"No. That house is yours. You can do whatever you wish with it," he replied calmly.

Curious eyes followed their departure from the cemetery. If they lingered any longer, they would be the only ones left.

"Fine," she finally conceded, her heart skipping a beat at the weight of her decision. She couldn't determine if it was the fear of entrusting her life to a stranger or the undeniable pull she felt towards him.

"Good. Craig, Bradley, and two of my men will accompany you back to your house so you can pack. I expect you at my home by sundown."

With those final words, he retreated to the waiting cars, leaving Amelia alone with her unsettling thoughts. A sinking feeling settled within her, as if he saw her solely as a means to an end.

And he seemed perfectly capable of using her, cold and calculating.

"You have such a big heart, Princess. Your instinct is to trust everyone," she whispered, her voice carrying through the wind. "I wish that could be the case. I wish you lived a life where only your heart was in danger. But you must be cautious. This is your first lesson, my dear. Be careful who you trust."

"What should I do, Daddy? You trusted him. Should I?"

Chapter Three

The sun sank below the horizon, casting a breathtaking display of golden and pink hues across the sky. But Craig couldn't fully appreciate the beauty. If it were up to him, he'd still be at his own house, packing. The thought of leaving his home was terrifying, ironic considering how desperately he had fought against his father's control for the past few months. Now, he was being ordered to leave, and it felt as though his feet were encased in cement.

Finally, they couldn't delay any longer. Craig grabbed Amelia's bags and threatened to carry her to the car if she didn't hurry. His eyes held sympathy, but his tone conveyed a sense of urgency. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of Johnny's home.

"He'll take care of you, Amelia," Craig said softly.

"How can you be so sure?" she demanded. "How long have you known him? How well do you know him?"

"I've known Johnny since he was fifteen," Craig replied gently. "He respected your father, and I believe your father saw him as a son. I would trust that man with my life, so I certainly trust him with yours."

Amelia glanced out the window, studying Johnny's house. It may have been smaller than her father's, but it was no less secure. While her father had indulged in expensive imported plants, Johnny's property was well-maintained yet modest.

"If he knew my father for so long, why don't I know him? I've only seen him a few times," she grumbled, sinking back into her seat. She knew she was acting like a spoiled child, but the shadows lurking around every corner were starting to unnerve her.

Craig shifted uncomfortably, and Amelia regarded him suspiciously. "What? What are you not telling me?" she asked anxiously.

"Amelia, you might think you know everything about your father's business, but he shielded you from the worst of the Bratva activities. He made sure you remained untainted."

"What are you talking about? I thought he wanted me to be more involved in the business. That's why he wouldn't let me leave," she said, confusion etching her voice.

Shaking his head, Craig offered her a sad smile. "Your father was tough on you at times, but it was never because he wanted you involved in the business. I don't think he ever seriously considered that idea."

Amelia was at a loss for words. "I don't understand," she whispered. "He asked..."

"Of course he did. It was your inheritance, and if you had wanted it, he would have done everything to clean it up for you. But it was clear that you didn't want it, so he groomed someone else. Johnny Thompson. Your father protected you from the moment you were born, and I have no doubt that Johnny will do the same."

The pain of hearing about her father sucked the air from Amelia's lungs, leaving her struggling to breathe. There were moments when she believed she could endure his death, and then there were times like this, when she feared her heart would simply stop beating under the weight of it all. Searching for an anchor before the grief overwhelmed her, she glanced at the house once more. "Is he married? Does he have children? What will they think of me moving in? What if I put them in danger?"

"That's my girl," Craig said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Always thinking of others. Besides his staff, Johnny lives alone."

The house seemed too large for just one man, but then again, Amelia's own house was far too grand for just her and her father. Johnny was an important man. He would have to present himself as such.

Now that her father was gone.

"How do you know he didn't kill my father?" she whispered.

"He didn't. I know."

Amelia's gaze landed on a window on the second floor, and she gasped. Johnny stood there, staring at them. For a moment, it felt as though they made eye contact, but that was absurd. There was no way he could see her from inside the car.

Craig followed her gaze and frowned. "We should go," he muttered. Exiting the car, he gathered her bags and patiently waited for her to join him.

As they ascended the steps leading to the wrap-around porch, Amelia instinctively noted the positions where guards would be stationed. One at each corner of the three-story house. Undoubtedly, there would be just as many in the back, along with cameras hidden within the trees and a sensor along the driveway.

During her teenage years, Amelia had become familiar with her father's men's routines. She had once taken advantage of a momentary lapse in their vigilance, escaping through her window, shimmying down a tree, and sprinting towards the street. That was when she discovered the sensor along the driveway. By the time she reached the gate, three men were pointing their guns at her.

Her father had been furious. That very night, he had the tree by her bedroom window chopped down, and she had always carried a sense of guilt about it.If only she had obeyed the orders, the tree would have flourished, towering high above its current height. The regret weighed heavily on her heart, and Eli's words echoed in her mind, a reminder of her disobedience.

For a while, it seemed as though Amelia had learned her lesson. But then came her sixteenth birthday, and with it, an insatiable desire for freedom. Rebellion became her daily routine, a way to assert her independence.

As the front doors swung open, an older gentleman stepped forward, nodding his head respectfully. "Ms. Martinez, I am Juan, Mr. Thompson's assistant. Allow me to assist you in settling into your room."

Assistant? His tone resembled that of a butler, but Amelia chose not to comment. She forced a smile and nodded politely. "Thank you, Juan. You can just call me Amelia, no need for formality."

"Of course." Juan took one of the bags from Craig and led the way up the grand, winding staircase. Amelia followed closely behind, her eyes scanning every detail she could absorb. The architecture of Johnny's home was truly magnificent. The intricate woodwork, the polished crown molding, and the beautifully carved railing were all testaments to its grandeur. A stunning chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the space. However, when it came to decor, the foyer fell short. It was sparsely furnished with a few paintings, none of which she recognized or found emotionally captivating. A plain side table stood against the wall, adorned with a mirror, devoid of any books or statues. The rugs were unremarkable, and the lamps lacked ornate designs.

Despite its enormous size, the place appeared ordinary.

It seemed like the kind of home where a man could live with someone he loved and raise a family. It didn't match the image of a man who had recently taken control of one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the country.

Marriage and kids? Amelia blinked, shaking her head to dispel the unexpected thought. Where had that come from? Shaking off the distraction, she hurried after Juan, who surprisingly moved with agility despite his age.

"We have a separate suite for guests, but Mr. Thompson thought you might feel more comfortable staying near him. Your room is connected to his suite. There are two other bedrooms on this floor, but they are usually unoccupied."

"Connected? What do you mean by connected?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as they entered the bedroom. But before Juan could respond, she froze in awe. The four-poster bed stood tall, draped in a white gauze canopy. The coverlet boasted gold threading, and beautifully adorned throw pillows were piled at the head of the bed. The entire room, from the chaise longue against the wall to the window seat, exuded femininity with its white color scheme and golden accents. It resembled the quarters of a woman of high status.

Juan opened the door to reveal a stunning bathroom, complete with dark stone trim. A large tub graced one corner, accompanied by an open shower area with a tiled floor that required no door or curtain. On the opposite side, a wall-length mirror and two sinks gleamed. The bathroom appeared untouched, as if it had never been used.

"The door on the other side connects to Mr. Thompson's bedroom. It can be locked from both sides, but he does possess a key, so in case of an emergency, he will be able to reach you."

"A key," Amelia squeaked, her voice filled with disbelief. "Wait a minute, you mean I'm supposed to share a shower with him? I don't even know him!"

Juan maintained his calm demeanor, meeting her gaze steadily. "Your safety and security are of utmost importance here, and Mr. Thompson wants you to feel protected. There is another bathroom down the hall if you prefer to use that one instead."

Relief washed over her, and she nodded gratefully. She would definitely be using the bathroom down the hall. The thought of sharing a shower with Johnny was far from comforting.

The mere idea made her cheeks flush with warmth.

Suddenly remembering the glimpse of him she had caught at the window, she stared intently at the closed door. Was he in there now? Why hadn't he come out to greet her?

"Dinner will be served in an hour, should you wish to unpack and rest. Feel free to explore the house at your leisure, but remember that you cannot go outside unaccompanied."

"Wait, I can't even walk around in the yard?" she asked, furrowing her brow. She was confined indoors?

"Not without an escort," Juan confirmed. "If you request it in advance, an escort will be provided. There is a letter on the nightstand for you. I will leave you to settle in."

Before she could inquire further, he slipped out of the room. Amelia also noticed Craig's absence.

"Fantastic. Dropped off at a stranger's house and abandoned the moment I arrived. What a warm welcome," she muttered sarcastically as she reached for the envelope. Her name was elegantly inscribed on it, matching the formality of the assistant who had escorted her. "Were you expecting a different Amelia?"

Tearing open the envelope, she kicked off her shoes and awkwardly sat on the couch, ready to delve into its contents.The furniture exuded an air of elegance that made her feel both enchanted and apprehensive. She couldn't help but worry that her mere presence would somehow tarnish its beauty. Slipping off her shoes, she rolled her head to relieve the tension that had settled in her shoulders and glanced down at the letter.

Within moments, anger surged through her veins, propelling her towards the bathroom where she angrily pounded on his door.

The sound of her furious knocking brought a smile to Johnny's face. He wasn't sure if it was the arrangements or the letter that had upset her, but he was prepared for both.

Swinging the door open, he scowled at her. "If you're going to bang on my door like that, you better be in serious danger," he warned in a low voice.

Expecting fear to flicker in her eyes, he was surprised to see only anger slanting across her face. She pressed the letter against his chest and forcefully pushed him inside, causing him to stumble backward.

"What the hell is this?" she shouted as she stormed into his bedroom. "A list of rules? I'm not some teenager at a boarding school, Mr. Thompson. I'm a grown woman, and I refuse to be subjected to these ridiculous rules. First, I'm told I can't go outside without an escort, and now I have to adhere to a schedule and a curfew? If this is your idea of hospitality, you can take it and shove it..."

Before she could finish her sentence, he grabbed her arms. The letter slipped from her grasp and fluttered to the ground as he pushed her until her back was pinned against the dresser. The closeness of their bodies ignited a spark within him, but he suppressed it with a string of curses. He wouldn't release her until she understood exactly what was expected of her.

"Ms. Martinez, rest assured that no one in this house sees you as anything other than a grown woman," he said silkily. Her widened eyes met his cold smile, and he hoped she finally comprehended. "The men in this house are highly trained individuals. Their job is to protect you. These rules make their task easier. You have a schedule because I'm not always here, and my men are occupied. You'll eat when I say so, and you'll be allowed to walk the grounds when there are enough men to ensure your safety. As for the curfew, I won't tolerate mistakes caused by your late-night wanderings. Mistakes can cost lives around here. Is that clear?"

A fire blazed in her eyes as she met his gaze. "I'd rather not have your protection," she growled.

"Then you'll die," he replied, releasing her and crossing his arms. "You're free to leave. You're not a prisoner here. But if you break any of these rules and endanger my men, you'll be kicked out."

Amelia swallowed hard, her gaze drifting towards the door. Johnny could sense her temptation, but there was also fear and something else he understood all too well.

Grief.

In that moment, he cursed his impatience. She had just buried her father and her world had been turned upside down. If he were truly a gentleman, he would have been more considerate.

But Johnny Thompson had never been known for his gentlemanly ways.

"Do we have an agreement?" he asked, his voice still icy.

She didn't flinch, and he felt both surprise and relief. He couldn't bear it if she were weak.

"I agree," she said stiffly. "But I've brought two bodyguards of my own. They should be enough to let me leave the house more than once a week."

"Craig and Bradley don't work for you. They work for me."

Her jaw clenched, and she squared her shoulders. "Excuse me," she muttered.

"Say the words, Amelia. Are we in agreement?" he demanded.

She hesitated, and for a moment, he thought she wouldn't comply. "I agree," she finally said.

"These rules apply to Bradley and Craig as well, and you wouldn't question their orders," he reminded her. "The only reason you're offended is because you don't trust me. I suggest you get over it, Amelia. We may be together for a while."

She stormed out of his room and slammed the door shut.

Now that she was safely on the other side of the closed door, desire surged through him, threatening to overwhelm him. What had he been thinking, allowing her to stay so close? The guest suites on the other side of the house were just as secure. No one could breach his external security, let alone make it up the stairs to her room. Knowing that those soft curves were just on the other side of the wall would be torturous.

"Damn you, Eli," he whispered. "Why did you have to get yourself killed? Why have you put me in this position?"

There was no answer.

Chapter Four

Amelia contemplated the idea of skipping dinner altogether just to avoid the unbearable man. Anxiously pacing her room, she perked up when she heard a car pulling into the driveway. She rushed to the window, hoping for a glimpse of Johnny. After a few minutes, he emerged from the car as a driver opened the back door. Although annoyed that he couldn't join her for their first meal together, she felt relieved that she wouldn't have to face him. With hunger gnawing at her stomach, she realized she hadn't eaten all day.

Suddenly halting in the foyer, she realized she had no clue where the kitchen might be. "Craig? Bradley? Is anyone here?" she called out in a soft voice.

"Do you need assistance?"

Amelia let out a startled yelp when Juan materialized from one of the rooms. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she scowled at him. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where did you come from?"

"The living room," he replied, gesturing towards the open door behind him. He said nothing more, leaving her sighing in exasperation.

"I wasn't sure where I could find the dining room," she muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Right this way, miss."

Miss. She had asked him not to call her Ms. Martinez, but it seemed he wasn't willing to address her as Amelia either. "Miss" was his idea of a compromise?

The hallway from the foyer led straight into a sitting area that branched off into different openings.

"On the left, you'll find the library. There are plenty of books and movies there to keep you entertained. On the right is Mr. Thompson's private entertaining room. It's best to stay clear of that room when he has guests. On the other side is his personal study. The door will always be locked when Mr. Thompson isn't using it," Juan explained in a monotone voice as he guided her across. The next hallway split into two areas. On the right, there was a grand formal dining area, and on the left was the kitchen. Juan offered her the briefest of smiles before nodding and leaving her alone.

"Creepy," she muttered as she peeked into each room. The dining room was empty, devoid of any set places or even a morsel of food on the enormous table. However, the kitchen housed a more intimate dining space. A small table sat at the center, already set with a single place, and a domed silver cover kept her dinner warm.

There wasn't a soul in sight except for her.

"Hello?" she called out tentatively. Juan didn't appear, but neither did anyone else. On the table, there was a glass of red wine which she picked up and immediately drank deeply from. Resting on the plate was another infuriating note addressed to her.

I apologize for not being able to join you. I had prior dinner arrangements. Please enjoy your meal. Feel free to retire early. I'm sure you're tired. -N.

"Feel free to retire? Why does that sound more like a command than an invitation?" she grumbled as she took a seat. Lifting the lid from the tray in the center, she discovered a delicious meal of steaming chicken, hearty potatoes, and fresh vegetables. A gravy boat sat beside her.

It smelled divine, and it should have made her mouth water, but instead, a wave of sorrow washed over her.

Alone.

She was only two years old when her mother died, but she had grown up surrounded by people. Her father made sure she was never alone. If he couldn't join her for meals, either Bradley or Craig or one of the other servants would. There was always someone to talk to, even if most of the time she spent complaining.

Glancing around the empty room, she realized she had taken it all for granted.

Suppressing the tears, she reached across the table and slowly filled her plate. She didn't understand why she wouldn't allow herself to cry. It's not like there was anyone around to witness it. After a few bites, she realized the chicken wasn't as good as it looked. Fortunately, she wasn't particularly hungry. Washing it down with the wine, she took a couple more bites before feeling full.

She had barely made a dent in the food laid out before her.

Letting out a sigh, she finished her glass and carried her dishes to the sink. The clinking of the china against the stainless steel was the only sound in the otherwise silent kitchen.

"Do you need anything?"

"Damn it, Juan!" she yelled furiously, whirling around. "That's twice now. If you do it again, I'm going to tie a damn bell around your neck!"

For a moment, she thought she saw a hint of a smile, but it quickly vanished as he bowed his head. "How may I assist you, miss?"

"Amelia," she said slowly, drawing out her name. "Please call me Amelia.""I was just going to grab some plastic containers for my leftovers and clean up," Amelia sighed, her shoulders slumping. She knew there was staff to take care of it, but she didn't want to impose. "Right. Okay, then. Will you make sure to thank whoever cooked it? It was lovely," she added, trying to be polite despite finding the food a little dry.

"Yes, miss," the man replied.

Deciding that she had given up on him, Amelia turned her back and began to leave.

"Amelia," he called out suddenly.

She perked up at the sound of her name and turned her head. "Yes?"

"Will you require an evening snack?"

The thought of eating alone again that night made her stomach turn, and she shook her head. A sly smile crossed her face as an idea popped into her head. "Juan?"

"Yes, Amelia?"

"You're supposed to assist me with anything I might need, right?"

"Anything that Mr. Thompson allows," he confirmed.

"And if it's not allowed, it would have been in that letter, correct?"

"Yes, miss. Amelia," he winced, almost as if he had said too much.

"Tomorrow morning, do you think you could join me for breakfast?"

He stared at her for a moment, unsure. "I'm not sure Mr. Thompson would like that," he finally responded.

"Do you think Mr. Thompson would join me for breakfast?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to make her point. He shook his head hesitantly. "So then he won't know. You are allowed to eat, right? And it's not like I take forever to eat. Just twenty minutes. Please. I'm not used to..." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I'm not used to being alone."

The old man's face softened, and he nodded slightly. "I would love to join you for breakfast. Just call for me when you're ready."

Relief washed over her, and she smiled. "Thank you, Juan. I'd like that."

"You're most welcome, Amelia."

As she made her way back to her room, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. But she still dragged her feet. Tonight wouldn't be any different from any other night. She couldn't sleep without seeing her father's lifeless body floating in the pool. Tonight, in a strange place, it would probably be even worse.

Closing the door to her room, she locked it and stripped down to her tank top. She had always slept naked, but not anymore. If she weren't so aware of the attractive man who would be sleeping just steps away, she would have continued the habit.

Staring at the bed, she realized she didn't want to sleep in it. It would make her feel different, give her a new status in this house. It would make her feel more alone than ever. Instead, she rested her head on the arm of the couch and curled up. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but it was better than the vast bed.

She didn't realize Johnny had arrived until she heard his footsteps and the shower turning on. Finally, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Only to be embraced by horrific nightmares.

***

Johnny awoke after three hours of sleep. His mind had been consumed by thoughts of the woman who slept just on the other side of the door. Unable to find peace, he had gone downstairs to the workout room and pummeled the heavy bag for an hour. When his body teetered on the edge of exhaustion, he had taken another shower and finally crawled into bed.

His day began with the rising sun, and he quietly made his way to the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth. After tidying up after himself, he listened for any signs of Amelia stirring.

Her room was silent.

Once dressed, Johnny left his room and glanced down the hallway, noticing that Amelia's door was open. Curiosity piqued, he peered inside.

Amelia was nowhere to be found. In fact, it seemed she hadn't slept there at all. The bed was neatly made, and her bags were out of sight.

Pleased by her orderly nature, he headed downstairs to find her. When he entered the kitchen, he froze.

Amelia was sitting at the table, eating breakfast with Juan and Sofia, his maid. The room fell silent as he cleared his throat. Juan and Sofia quickly stood from their chairs, but no one spoke.

"Good morning," Amelia said matter-of-factly. "Are you going to eat anything, or are you just going to stare at us?"

"Juan. Sofia," Johnny said in a low voice. "Can you explain what's going on here?"

"We were joining Amelia...Ms. Martinez for breakfast," Sofia replied quietly. She was a young girl, fresh out of high school, and the daughter of one of his cooks.She adhered to his rules meticulously, never deviating from them like this. He could only gaze at her inquisitively.

"For God's sake, I invited them to have breakfast with me," Amelia muttered finally. "They skipped their own meals just to eat with me, so it's not like I'm preventing them from working."

"Why didn't you ask me to join you?" he questioned.

"I haven't seen you," she pointed out.

That was a valid point. "When I eat here, I have my meals in the office," he responded, further excluding himself as a dining companion. "Juan, Sofia, you may continue having breakfast with Ms. Martinez as long as it doesn't hinder your work."

They nodded gratefully. Amelia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Can they join me for lunch and dinner too?"

What was wrong with her? Did she prefer the company of his staff over him? Frowning, he contemplated denying her request just to provoke an argument. Instead, he took a deep breath. "Lunch is acceptable, but you'll dine with me tonight."

"Am I supposed to eat in the office?" she asked sarcastically.

"Don't be absurd," he snapped.

"I haven't seen Craig or Bradley since I arrived. Where are they?"

Irritation washed over him. "I've already told you. They work for me. They do as I say. When they have a spare moment, they're welcome to greet you."

A thought struck him, halting him in his tracks. Craig and Bradley were only a few years older than him. Could it be possible that she was involved with one of them? Maybe even both?

Suppressing the surge of jealousy and anger, he turned sharply and left the kitchen. Amelia was a grown woman and she had the freedom to date anyone she pleased.

But she wasn't going to do it under his roof.

Storming into his office, he impatiently awaited Sofia's arrival with his breakfast. Her cheeks were flushed when she entered. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but he had instructed his staff not to speak to him unless spoken to first. Juan, of course, was an exception and could speak more freely.

Order and discipline. That was the foundation of his household.

The young girl appeared as if she would burst. "What's on your mind, Sofia?" he finally inquired.

The words stumbled out of her mouth. "Mr. Thompson, I just wanted to apologize. I hope I haven't offended you in any way. Juan explained to Amelia...Ms. Martinez that she cannot ask us to do anything against your wishes, but you never said we couldn't dine with her. If it upset you, we will stop immediately."

"It's unnecessary," he sighed. Narrowing his eyes, he observed the girl. She seemed satisfied with his response. "Sofia, did she mention why she wanted you to eat with her?"

"Juan explained that she's not accustomed to being alone, sir. She requested his company, but he thought that since I'm closer to her age, she might enjoy having meals with me too. I really enjoy her presence. She's a bit peculiar and melancholic, but..." her voice trailed off suddenly, her eyes widening in panic.

"But what?" Johnny asked patiently.

"It's nothing, sir," she hurriedly replied.

Damn it, was the girl afraid of him? He had barely spoken to her. "It's alright, Sofia. Just tell me."

She wrung her hands together. "Yes, sir. It's not that I'm ungrateful for the job, because I am. But you mostly hire men, so it's nice to have another woman around."

"Your mother works here," he pointed out.

She immediately rolled her eyes, and he had to stifle a chuckle. Typical teenager. "I see your point," he finally conceded. "I would be pleased if you entertained Amelia as long as you finish your work by the end of the day."

Her eyes lit up with joy. "Thank you, sir!"

"Sofia," he called out as she started to leave. "Why do you think Amelia is peculiar?"

"She didn't sleep in her bed, sir."

"What? Where the hell did she sleep?" Damn, had she even stayed in her room? He had given her permission to roam the house, but she wasn't supposed to wander around all night. The curfew was meant to confine her to her room.

"I don't know, sir. All I know is that after she came down for breakfast, I went up to tidy the room, and the bed hadn't been slept in."

Johnny relaxed. "Oh. Maybe she made it herself."

Sofia shook her head. "No, sir. I'm very particular about how I tuck in the corners of my sheets. My mom would scold me if I didn't do it a certain way. Trust me, she didn't make that bed herself. She hasn't touched it. Like I said, a little peculiar."

Johnny dismissed her and glared darkly at his breakfast. So Amelia hadn't slept in her bed last night.

Where on earth was she spending her nights?

Chapter Five

Johnny had just finished his breakfast when the call came through. Eli’s lawyer, Harrison, was ready to finalize the paperwork for Eli’s will. The authorities originally wanted to halt the process until the investigation was completed, but Johnny didn’t have time for that. He needed access to the rest of Eli’s assets now. The authorities hesitated until Johnny reminded them of the violence that would ensue if he didn’t take control as soon as possible. Although he couldn’t admit to everything, the investigators weren’t foolish. If they wanted to take on the Bratva, now was not the time.

Eli always maintained a decent relationship with the police, and Johnny had promised to do the same. Still, he felt uneasy when he found out that the case was going to be assigned to someone new. They weren’t just trying to close a case. They wanted to uncover the truth. That was both promising and worrying. They might find the actual killer, but it also meant that they would scrutinize him closely.

Their actions were logical. It was better to work with the devil they knew than the devil they didn’t. So they finally allowed the will to be released. Harrison requested that Amelia and Johnny join him in his office just after noon, but Johnny rejected that idea.

“Amelia isn’t leaving the house just yet,” he said gravely. “I need you to come here.”

The lawyer was silent for a minute, but Johnny saw through it. The man had worked for Eli long enough to understand the danger they faced. “I don’t want to put Amelia in danger, but I also don’t want to put myself in danger. Johnny, after this, I’m done. You have your own lawyers. I’m out.”

Ah. So that’s what it was. The old man wanted to retire without any bloodshed. “I don’t care what you do after today,” he said calmly. “We will meet here. I’d be happy to send an escort if you’re worried.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Harrison said hastily.

Nicolai held back a sigh. “Harrison, I’m not sending you an escort to force you here. I’m sending one to protect you.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Very well. I’ll see you just after noon.”

Shaking his head, Johnny hung up the phone. Trust wasn’t easy to come by in his line of work.

“Juan!”

The old man appeared immediately. He’d been working for Johnny for five years, and Johnny still didn’t know anything about the man’s background. He moved quickly and silently, managing to be everywhere at once. He had impeccable references that went back twenty years, but before that, the man was a mystery. Johnny wouldn’t have hired him at all if Eli hadn’t insisted. The man was pushing sixty, but he moved like someone twenty years younger.

It was unsettling.

Still, he was annoyingly polite, exceedingly obedient, and Johnny had never needed to reprimand him for anything. He never faltered in his service.

Except for joining Amelia at the breakfast table this morning.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson?” Juan said with a small nod of his head.

“Harrison, Eli’s lawyer, will be here just after noon. I need Amelia here at that time to sign the paperwork so she can receive her share of the inheritance. Could you please let her know?”

“Yes, Mr. Thompson.”

“Juan.” Johnny almost held back, but he couldn’t contain his curiosity. He was bursting with questions. “First of all, I wanted to thank you for keeping Amelia company this morning. You always seem to know what other people need.”

“Yes, Mr. Thompson.”

“How did she seem last night?”

“Seem?”

Narrowing his eyes, Johnny leaned forward in his chair. Juan was never obtuse about anything. There was a reason he hadn’t answered the question directly. “Yes. Seem. She was angry when I left, and she was asleep when I got back. I’d like a report on what happened.”

“Amelia came down for dinner right on time. I showed her around the house briefly and took her to the kitchen. She ate a few bites of her dinner, drank half a bottle of wine, and tried to clean up after herself. After that, she invited me to join her for meals whenever possible, and then she went to bed, sir.”

“Those were her actions, Juan. I want to know how she seemed. Emotionally.” It felt strange to make such a request, but he needed to know.

Juan pursed his lips and tilted his head. “I would say she seemed sad, lonely, and frustrated, sir.”

Johnny’s heart sank, and he lashed out in anger. “I welcome her into my home and give her everything she could possibly need, and she’s sad, lonely, and frustrated?” he spat out.

“Mr. Thompson, Amelia has been through a traumatic experience,” Juan said in a neutral voice. “I believe she was very close to her father, and I know his death haunts her. She fears for her life, she’s incredibly sad, and she moved from a place where she was always surrounded to a home where the staff have been instructed to leave her alone. If I may be so bold, Mr. Thompson, I suggest that you allow her to interact with the people in this house. Although she grew up wealthy and with servants, she has an independent streak and would likely prefer the company of the staff to being isolated.”

The older man seemed like he wanted to say more, but he quickly closed his mouth. It didn’t matter. Johnny knew how the sentence would end. Like you. Clenching his fists beneath the desk, Johnny tried to control his temper.

“I have rules in this house for a reason,” he pointed out.

“I understand completely, Mr. Thompson.”

“She and I are not the same.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Johnny relaxed. “You’re right."Amelia gazed at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her skirt. The black fabric skimmed her mid-thigh, revealing just enough skin to be enticing. Paired with a tight black shirt that exposed her shoulders, she knew she looked good. She tied her blonde hair loosely to the side, letting it cascade over her left shoulder. Maybe it was audacious to dress seductively for an inheritance meeting, but she couldn't help but want Johnny's attention. She longed to see his gaze linger on her as something more than just a ward.

As she slipped on her shoes, her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Hope surged within her, hoping it was news from the authorities regarding the investigation. Grabbing her phone eagerly, she saw the caller ID and smiled.

"Seraphine!" Amelia greeted warmly. Seraphinealina had been her best friend since childhood, and even though their jobs had taken them to different cities, they remained inseparable. "It's so good to hear your voice. I've been leaving you messages. Are you okay? Well, of course you're not."

Amelia interrupted her best friend, knowing how Seraphine could ramble when she was worried. "I'm fine, or at least I will be. But honestly, I don't want to talk about it right now. I want to hear about your adventures in Prague."

Glancing at the clock, Amelia frowned. "Unfortunately, I can't chat at the moment. I have a meeting with my father's lawyer. Can I call you later?"

"I have a better idea," Seraphine said, her voice full of excitement.My parents' anniversary is fast approaching, and we're planning to have dinner together. However, I can't resist the urge to meet Seraphine for a drink afterwards. I suggest meeting at ten o'clock at the Emerald Lounge."

Although it was past her curfew, Amelia decided not to mention it to Seraphine. Surely Johnny, her guardian, would allow her to visit her best friend. After promising to meet Seraphine, Amelia hung up the phone and rushed out the door.

She had just reached Johnny's office when the door swung open abruptly. He scowled at her from the doorway. "There you are. You were supposed to be here five minutes ago. What on earth are you wearing?"

"A skirt," she retorted. Why was he so angry? She tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her arm. "I thought we were running late."

Her words were sharp, and she noticed the anger in his eyes. However, he released her and took a step back. Harrison, who stood awkwardly in the office, received a warm hug from Amelia. "I'm sorry for not speaking to you at the funeral," she whispered. "There was so much going on."

Harrison returned the hug. She had known him since childhood, and he had always been kind to her. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Johnny cleared his throat. "I don't have much time," he muttered. "Let's get started."

Amelia glared at him, but as her gaze swept over him, she froze. His entire body was tense, and his eyes were filled with stormy darkness. She recognized that look. Her father sometimes wore the same expression, and she had learned from an early age to stay away from him when he was that angry.

It almost always led to violence.

"Eli's will is quite straightforward. Amelia, you inherit his private property in the city, his villa, and his personal funds. Johnny, all of his business properties and funds go to you. Amelia, his life insurance policy will be paid out to you, and there is a trust set up for any future children you might have. Johnny, there are a few stipulations regarding the business agreements, but I will discuss those privately with you. Do you have any questions, Amelia?"

Amidst Harrison's words, Amelia felt a sudden chill. Her father had set up a trust fund for her future children?

"When?" she asked softly. "When was the trust fund established?"

Frowning, Harrison flipped through the pages. "It appears that it was set up on your sixteenth birthday."

Sixteen. She gripped the armrest of the chair, trying to suppress the urge to vomit. She knew her father's business was dangerous, but she had been so sheltered. Her father had known he could die and wanted to ensure a secure future for Amelia. With his daughter only sixteen at the time, he was already thinking about her future family.

"Amelia?" Harrison asked with concern.

Her entire body flooded with heat, and her fingers began to itch. Before she could react, her stomach twisted into knots, and she struggled to breathe.

"Excuse me. I can't seem to catch my breath," she muttered, her voice cracking. Standing on unsteady legs, she quickly left the office before tears overwhelmed her. She had barely taken three steps down the hall when she felt an arm wrap around her waist.

Johnny pulled her tightly against him. One arm secured her waist while the other crossed over her chest. His hold was firm, almost painful, but it brought her some relief.

"Take it easy," he murmured in her ear. "You're having a panic attack, but it will pass. Focus on my voice. I'm going to count to four. Inhale on counts one and two. Exhale on counts three and four. Understand?"

Nodding, she felt his lips brush against her ear. "One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four." He continued to hold her and count until she finally relaxed against him. The terrible feeling subsided.

"Good," he whispered. "Feeling better now?"

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Thank you." Her voice was strained, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had proven nothing but her inability to rebel against him today. All she had accomplished was showing that she couldn't even handle a will reading.

He didn't release her immediately, and her body warmed once again. This time, however, it had nothing to do with anxiety. She could feel his fingers graze her arm and his warm breath against her ear. Every inch of his body pressed against hers, and she had an overwhelming desire to turn around and kiss him.

God, what was wrong with her?

His finger moved suddenly, tracing the waistline of her skirt, and she instinctively moved her hips against him. Tilting her head back, she felt his breath shift from her ear to the nape of her neck. When his lips finally brushed against her sensitive skin, she couldn't help but let out a moan.

He released her abruptly, causing her to stumble against the wall. Clearing his throat, he said, "If you're feeling better, we should proceed with signing the paperwork. I have things to attend to this afternoon."

His cold words washed over her, and she didn't even bother turning around until she knew he was gone. With trembling fingers, she reached up to touch the spot where he had kissed.

Never before had she desired a man the way she desired Johnny Thompson.

She didn't know which was more dangerous: staying here under his protection and risking another moment like that, or leaving and risking her life.

"I loved your mother deeply, Princess, but I also learned a difficult lesson. Love is seen as weakness. Everyone will tell you that. They'll teach you to use your body as a weapon and guard your heart. But remember, my darling, love is also strength. Trust your heart."

"No, Daddy," she whispered. "This isn't a matter of the heart. It's just lust, plain and simple. And lust, I can fight."

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