Claimed by the Mafia Don-Chapter 54: Going After Him

ZOE DEAN’S POV

By the time I finally decided to escape from Emily, I felt like my bones were made of jelly.

Half the day had gone by listening to her questions — endless questions about how I survived in Santiago, what I ate, what I did each day, and then somehow, without warning, she launched into her pregnancy hormones and how she cries when Benny becomes too loud.

At first, I laughed because... well, it was Emily. But then the exhaustion caught up with me. I hadn’t rested properly since arriving in Thailand — not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. Everything had been one long stretch of movement and feelings and trying not to think too much. I needed a break before I could absorb anything she was saying.

So I gently excused myself, insisting she rest for the baby’s sake. Thankfully, she listened.

After tucking her into bed and making sure she was comfortable, I headed for the door. My body was begging for sleep, my mind buzzing with the kind of fatigue that made the walls sway.

"Zoe," she whispered.

I turned around, already smiling even though I barely had the energy.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes softened. "Thank you for coming back."

Something warm bloomed in my chest. "You’re welcome. Now, rest," I whispered. "I’ll come around when you’re awake."

She nodded, and this time I slipped out.

Walking down the familiar hallway of Somchai’s mansion felt like slipping into an old memory. Every step held something — laughter, stolen touches, quiet conversations in corners. It felt surreal to be back. I hadn’t lived here for long, but somehow the place had rooted itself into me... or maybe it was the person I’d been with.

When I reached the door Nero and I used to share, I had to pause. My fingers lingered on the handle as I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever I might feel.

Then I pushed the door open.

Empty.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding — a strange mix of relief and disappointment — until I heard it: the running shower.

He was here.

My heartbeat picked up instantly, ridiculous and wild, the way it always did around him even when I wished it wouldn’t. I walked to the bed and sat, my palms slightly clammy. It felt like waiting for a storm and sunshine at the same time.

The bathroom door opened.

I smelled him before I saw him — the warm scent of his body wash, clean and familiar — and then he stepped out, water still clinging to his body. A white towel hung low around his waist. His tattooed skin gleamed under the lights, dark hair falling messily over his forehead.

And I forgot how to breathe.

God. I should have been used to him by now, but somehow my body had other plans. My gaze moved on its own — chest, shoulders, abs, tattoos — before I could control myself.

Then he caught me staring.

And smirked.

That stupid, arrogant smirk that always made my stomach flip in a way I refused to analyze.

I snapped my eyes away so fast my neck almost cracked.

"I didn’t know you were here," he murmured, voice low and teasing — exactly the tone that made me want to throw something at him and kiss him at the same time.

My brain malfunctioned.

"I—I just came in," I stuttered, sounding like a panicked intern meeting her celebrity crush for the first time. Heat crawled up my neck, settling on my cheeks.

"Okay." He didn’t even try to hide his amusement as he walked to the wardrobe. I watched him sift through clothes, the calm, casual way he moved — as if he didn’t just walk out half-naked and ruin my heart rate.

Trying to distract myself, I realized I’d seen everyone today... except one person.

"Where is Elena?" I asked softly.

He stilled for a heartbeat. Then he turned, his expression unreadable, as though he was choosing whether to tell me the truth.

Finally, he spoke.

"She’s gone back to London."

"Oh." I nodded slowly, absorbing that.

The room fell silent once more. I sank onto the bed, deliberately shifting my eyes to anything that wasn’t his bare body.

********

STEFANO RUSSO’S (NERO’S) POV

After tugging my shirt over my head and fastening my jeans, I realized the room had fallen strangely quiet.

I turned.

And the sight stopped me cold.

Zoe was asleep.

Curled on top of the blankets, her legs tucked beneath her, her arm draped across her stomach like she’d simply collapsed mid-thought. Her hair flowed across the pillow in soft waves, her breathing steady, her face completely relaxed.

God... she looked exhausted.

And beautiful.

A smile tugged at my lips before I had the chance to hide it. She always did that to me — made me soften in ways I didn’t plan for.

How could someone look so perfect doing absolutely nothing?

I moved closer, careful with each step, not wanting to wake her. In sleep, she looked younger... lighter... like the weight she carried every day had finally loosened its grip on her.

"Exhausted, huh?" I muttered under my breath.

Of course she didn’t hear me. Maybe that was better. If she knew half the things she made me feel just by breathing, she’d not believe it.

She shifted slightly, letting out a tiny sleepy sound that hit me right in the chest. Instinct made me step forward. The blanket had slipped off her shoulder, so I pulled it gently over her. My fingers brushed her arm — warm, soft — and something inside me cracked open.

Days away from her and this is what I come back to. Me standing here like an idiot, staring at her like she’s the center of gravity.

"Damn," I whispered.

I leaned a shoulder against the bedpost, watching her for a little longer — the rise and fall of her chest, the peaceful look she rarely let anyone see. Just being here... just seeing her... made the room feel like home again.

She came back.

She actually came back.

And even though we had wounds, unfinished conversations, questions we were both afraid to ask... none of that mattered right now.

Right now, she needed rest.

And I wasn’t going to be the one to take it from her.

Quietly, I grabbed my phone and wallet from the drawer. Before leaving, I allowed myself one last look at her. Just one. To memorize her softness, her calm, the curve of her lashes against her cheeks.

"Sleep, angel," I whispered.

Then I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me without a sound.

The hallway was dim and cool, the kind of chill that helped steady my mind. My footsteps echoed softly as I walked toward the lounge area. I could already hear voices — low, familiar.

Somchai and Benny.

I found them exactly where I expected: Benny leaning against the counter, looking restless, and Somchai sipping a drink like he owned the entire world — which he basically did.

Both looked up when I entered.

Benny raised a brow. "What happened? We’ve been waiting for you."

Somchai smirked. "Zoe’s back. Don’t expect him to be on time for anything."

I didn’t respond to the teasing. They knew I rarely did.

Instead, I took a slow breath, grounding myself.

"Why’d you call us out here at this time?" Benny asked, irritation clear in his voice.

I straightened, my tone firm. "First, I want to appreciate you, Somchai, for accommodating us."

He frowned immediately. "Don’t start sounding sentimental. It’s making me uncomfortable."

I ignored him.

"Secondly," I continued, "we’ll be leaving tomorrow."

Both of them froze, eyebrows shooting up simultaneously.

"Leaving?!" they echoed.

I’d expected the reaction.

Benny pushed off the counter. "Why are we leaving?"

Somchai stepped forward a little, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "Nero, you know you can stay here as long as you want."

"I know," I said quietly. "And honestly, I’d prefer not to leave. But I have things to handle. We haven’t reached the end of this game."

They stayed silent, listening.

I continued, voice low. "Reports from my men say my father has sent people after me. He knows I’m in Thailand."

Benny stared. "He found out?"

"Yes."

"So..." Somchai’s jaw tightened. "You think leaving is the safest option."

"It’s the necessary one," I answered. "For everyone."

Silence settled over the room — thick, heavy, but accepting.

"Are you sure about this?" Somchai finally asked.

"Yes," I said simply. "I’ve made up my mind."

More silence. Then Benny asked quietly, "Where are we going?"

"Mexico."

I said it firmly, without hesitation.

Somchai’s eyes widened slightly, as though something clicked in his memory. "That... that is where Zoe’s father is."

I nodded.

"I’m going after him," I said. "There is something I must find out."

The room fell silent again — the beginning of another storm.