My Childhood Bully is a Mafia Boss-Chapter 33

Ivy

Panic clung to me like a second skin, the kind that prickles with sweat and sends shivers down your spine. I stood there in the middle of our – no, his – lavish living room, my heart hammering against my ribs as if trying to break free.

A voice inside me screamed, ’Run, Ivy, run and don’t look back.’ But another, softer voice whispered, ’Stay. It’s not all bad, is it?’ The idea of fleeing from him was terrifying, but the thought of remaining caged within these opulent walls was suffocating.

Each breath felt like a betrayal of my desire for freedom, each heartbeat a reminder of the risk I’d take by leaving. Aidan, with his dark charm and dangerous connections, wasn’t a man to cross. I knew too much, felt too much... If I ran, he’d find me. I just knew it.

But how much longer could I endure this twisted relationship of ours?

The sound of the front door clicking shut snapped me out of my reverie. Adrenaline surged through my veins, drowning out the whispers of doubt.

"Hey, Ivy," Aidan said, his face and body covered in cuts and bruises as if he was in a fight.

"What...what happened to you?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said dryly. "I am going to my study." And with that, he walked away.

Hmm...that’s weird. Aidan usually didn’t give me the cold shoulder like this. Did something happen?

After an internal argument, I decided to go check on him. He was in his study, sitting behind his mahogany desk in the dark.

"Aidan?" My heart stuttered as uncertainty crept into my tone. He didn’t stir at my approach, remaining as still as a statue carved from the darkest onyx. This wasn’t the charming predator who delighted in our twisted dance, who thrived on our fiery exchanges. Something was wrong.

I hesitated by the door, every instinct screaming at me to turn back, to seize this opportunity to be alone. But I was still concerned about him. Maybe part of me still saw him as my best friend from back then.

"Are you okay?" The question felt foreign on my tongue, laced with a tenderness that had no place in our tumultuous relationship. I waited, breath held, for a sneer, a sharp retort, anything that would restore the balance between us.

But the response never came, and the silence stretched between us, fraught with unspoken emotions and unanswered questions.

"Aidan," I called again.

He finally moved, a slight tilt of his head indicating he’d heard me. "Leave me alone, Ivy," he said, his voice low and rough, not with anger but something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

The words were a dismissal, sharp as the click of a lock. My pulse quickened. Why did I care anyway?

"Aidan, if something’s wrong—"

"I said, leave me alone." The edge in his voice could have sliced through steel. But beneath it, I could hear the sadness in his voice.

I swallowed hard, the taste of fear mingling with an inexplicable concern. I knew I should focus on my own predicament, on the cage of luxury and danger I lived in with him. Yet here I was, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with my longing for freedom.

Against my better judgment, I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

As my hand made contact with Aidan’s shoulder, I could feel the tension radiating from him like waves of heat. His muscles tensed beneath my touch, but he didn’t shrug me off. Instead, he seemed to lean into the contact, his body betraying a vulnerability that he usually kept hidden behind a facade of strength.

"What’s wrong, Aidan," I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the darkness. Then, with a heavy sigh, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with weariness and resignation.

"It’s Ellie," he confessed, the name hanging heavy in the air between us like a dark cloud. "I...I finally found her, and I went to get her."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, dread settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach. "What happened to her?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Aidan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his confession seeming to crush him beneath its burden. "She...she doesn’t want to come back," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

I felt a pressure in my chest. The last time I saw him this vulnerable was decades ago. My grip tightened on his shoulder. "What did she say?" I whispered.

"She said she loves that bastard Slava and carrying his child. She isn’t thinking straight. I need to get her out of there somehow," Aidan muttered.

"I’m sorry," I said lamely, at a loss for words. What else was there to say?

"Thanks," he said hoarsely, his shoulder shuddering beneath my touch.

The tension hung between us in the air, thick and suffocating, as Aidan grappled with his feelings and I struggled with mine. This wasn’t the Aidan I knew—the cold, ruthless mobster who showed no mercy. This was the Aidan who once shared his dreams with me under the stars.

Slowly, as if scared he’d break, I wrapped my arms around him in a tentative hug. My mind screamed at me to let go, saying that it was a trap, but my heart wouldn’t listen. I felt like he needed me now more than ever, and I couldn’t turn my back on him.

Aidan stiffened at first, but then he relaxed into my embrace. His arms circled my waist, pulling me closer as if I were the only thing grounding him in this world. He buried his face into my hair, inhaling my scent like it was oxygen.

"Everyone leaves me," he murmurs, tightening his embrace on me.

"I’m here," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"You left too," he said in an accusing tone.

No lies there.

"But I won’t let you leave again. Not this time. You are mine," he grumbled, nuzzling my neck.

I shivered as his warm breath tickled my skin. "I know, you keep telling me that," I said. "No matter how many times I say no," I added, laughing lightly.

Aidan’s grip on me tightened, his touch possessive yet strangely comforting. "I mean it, Ivy," he said, his voice low and intense. "You belong with me."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging me down into the depths of uncertainty. Part of me wanted to resist, to break free from his hold and reclaim my independence.

But another part—the part that still remembered the bond we shared, the connection that had once been unbreakable—hesitated, torn between logic and emotion.

"I didn’t leave on purpose, you know," I said, remembering one of the saddest days of my life.

Aidan scoffed. "Right, whatever. It doesn’t matter now." He released me from his hug and stood up. "I am going to bed. I will decide how to rescue Ellie tomorrow."

I watched him leave, then slowly walked toward my own room. I was tired too, and it was quite late.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to remember Ellie. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

I stared blankly at the wall, trying to conjure up any memory of Ellie. But all I could see was a blur of blonde hair and blue eyes, a faint giggle and the warmth of her hand in mine.

I fell backward on my pillow and closed my eyes.

I remembered how pale and skinny she was. And the few times I met her, I saw some bruises on her body that matched Aidan’s. Her eyes were kind, and she teased me about my closeness with Aidan.

I remember Aidan telling me how she was the only one who didn’t look at him like he was a worthless piece of trash.

"Hey."

My heart jumped when I heard his voice and I sat down abruptly.

Aidan was leaning against the door, his eyes dark. "Do you mind sleeping with me tonight?" he asked.

I froze, my mind racing as I tried to process his words. "I...I don’t know..." I managed to stammer out. I vowed to not let him touch me earlier today.

Aidan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can’t sleep. I want you next to me, okay?" he said, sounding almost vulnerable.

I thought about saying no to him. I still couldn’t get the picture of him murdering that man in my mind. I felt bad for him about Ellie, but he was still a murderer, and I couldn’t bear to be with someone like that.

"Ivy, please," he said in a hoarse whisper.

A surge of emotion tightened my chest like a vice grip, squeezing me from the inside out.

Memories flooded back to me of that night in high school when he had stumbled into my room, bloodied and beaten.

His eyes were filled with vulnerability and sadness, his body slumped with exhaustion. The image of him standing before me now, with the same pained expression etched on his face, made me tremble with sadness. It was as if time had not passed at all since that fateful night.