My Childhood Bully is a Mafia Boss-Chapter 116

Ellie

I was huddled under the sheets, every muscle knotted with dread. I was back in my childhood room. I knew that’s where I was because even in the dark, I could see the worn pinkish wallpaper.

A groan of hinges shattered the silence—the door creaked open with a slow, deliberate malice that clawed at my nerves. My pulse hammered against my throat, a frantic drumbeat echoing the terror constricting my chest.

"Stay back," I hissed into the darkness, my voice a broken whisper, barely escaping the fortress of my covers.

The figure loomed. I knew those shoulders, broad and cloaked in darkness, a silhouette that had haunted more than just my dreams.

"Please," my voice quivered, "don’t do this." Desperation clawed at my throat, each word a struggle as familiar dread wrapped its icy fingers around my heart.

The figure advanced, steps silent but intent, a manifestation of every broken promise that had ever pierced my soul. "Leave me alone!" I pleaded.

"Go away!" My hands pushed at the cold air, as if I could somehow fend off the shadow with sheer will.

His hands, cold and unforgiving, pressed against my skin through the thin fabric of my nightdress. I recoiled, my body rigid with disgust, but there was no escape from the touch that felt like ice on fire.

"Stop!" I gasped, the word a hiss of steam in the chill. But the figure remained indifferent to my protests, the hands unrelenting as they explored with a possessiveness that spoke of ownership rather than intimacy.

The room spun, the walls closing in as more hands—too many to be real—sprouted from the darkness. They skittered across my flesh. My heart pounded an erratic drumbeat of terror, every thump echoing the betrayal that these multiplying touches represented.

"No. NO!" I screamed even though I knew it wouldn’t work. It never worked.

"Ellie!"

A shake, real and grounding. Hands, not cold and spectral, but warm and firm, jolted me back to reality. The nightmare splintered, fragments of fear dissolving in the wake of salvation’s touch.

"Ellie, wake up!"

My eyes snapped open, the remnants of the dream clinging like cobwebs. A face hovered above mine, the features blurry through the haze of my tears and terror. Someone had pulled me back, snatched me from my nightmares.

"You can leave now. I am fine," I said to him, even though I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to hold me and envelope me in his warmth and his scent until I couldn’t think about anyone but him.

"I’m not going anywhere," he said firmly, and I released a sigh of relief. Thank god this man was as stubborn as he was kind.

Kind. It was such a strange word to describe Giovanni. A few weeks ago I would’ve never thought to use the word to describe him.

"You will stay?" I asked weakly.

He shifted beside me, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face with a tenderness that belied the harshness I had come to associate with him. "Yes, my love. I thought you said Slava never hurt you," he said softly, but I could hear the anger in his voice.

"He didn’t," I said quickly.

"Then care to tell me who you were pushing away in your nightmare? Who had you terrified like a little girl?" Giovanni asked, pulling me to his lap.

"I...no one," I lied.

"Ellie," he started.

"I don’t want to talk about it with you, okay?" I nearly screamed. Hot tears started to flow down my cheeks before I could stop them, and my body started to shake again. This time, it wasn’t because I was scared. It was because I was angry.

I didn’t want Giovanni to see me like this! I didn’t want him to think of me as some weak little girl.

Giovanni wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against his chest. "Hush now, cara mia. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready," Giovanni said, his voice a whisper laced with understanding.

But his patience only stoked the embers of my anger, sparking a fire within me that I struggled to contain. "I don’t need your pity," I snapped, my words sharp like broken glass.

Giovanni didn’t let go.

"I can take care of myself," I insisted, pushing away from him. But even as I distanced myself physically, his presence still loomed large over my fractured resolve.

"Why won’t you let me in, Ellie?" Giovanni’s voice was gentle but insistent.

"Why should I?" I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

Giovanni’s expression softened, his eyes searching mine as if seeking the answers to questions he hadn’t yet formed. His fingers grazed my cheek, a touch so tender it felt like a balm on my raw emotions. "Because I care about you, Ellie. More than I ever thought possible."

A shiver ran down my spine at his words, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the barriers I had so carefully erected. "I never asked you to care," I retorted, my tone laced with defiance.

His gaze held mine, unwavering. "You didn’t have to ask. It just happened."

I looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. How could he care when he knew so little of the darkness that resided within me? "You shouldn’t," I whispered, a plea more to myself than to him.

"But I do," Giovanni insisted, his hand reaching out to tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze once more. "And I won’t apologize for it."

The sincerity in his eyes was like a lifeline in the storm of my emotions. Part of me wanted to push him away, to shield myself from the possibility of hurt. But another part... another part longed to surrender to the warmth he offered, to let go of the burdens I had carried alone for so long.

"I’m broken, Giovanni," the confession slipped past my defenses before I could stop it, each word heavy with the weight of years of pain.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he pulled me closer, wrapping me in an embrace again. "We’re all broken in our own ways, Ellie. But sometimes, two broken pieces can fit together and make something whole."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but I didn’t want to sit here and cry all night. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.

Our lips met in a clash of need and desperation, the taste of salt from my tears mingling with the warmth of his mouth. Giovanni responded eagerly, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that belied the intensity of our kiss.

"I won’t let anyone hurt you, Ellie," Giovanni murmured against my lips. "Not now, not ever."

I reached down between his legs to feel his length in my hand. He let out a soft groan, his eyes widened in surprise. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

I pushed him back against the bed, straddling his waist as I kissed him hungrily. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I was free to roam my hands around his naked chest and stomach.

I felt his several jagged scars under my fingers and it sent a strange thrill through me. This was a man who had been through pain like me. Maybe not emotionally but physically. The thought gave me comfort.

Giovanni’s hands moved to my hips, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "Ellie, wait," he breathed between kisses, trying to slow my pace.

But I couldn’t hold back. Every touch, every caress was a blazing trail against my skin that fueled the fire within me. I needed this connection, this intimacy, to drown out the echoes of my nightmares.

"I need you, Giovanni," I whimpered. "I need to...I need to feel."

"We shouldn’t," he said, his voice tight.

"Don’t you want me? Am I not desirable?" I pouted.

He Almost Smiled, but he didn’t. "Oh, my love, I do," he admitted. "More than anything, I want you. But I remember you telling me that it’s been barely six weeks since you gave birth. I don’t want to hurt you, and I know that your body needs time to heal."

I knew he was right, but the longing in my mind was too powerful. I could barely breathe, let alone think rationally.

"It’s okay if I feel pain. I don’t care. I need you, Giovanni," I whispered, hoping he could feel the truth in my voice.

He searched my eyes, his own pools of darkness deepening. "Ellie, my love..."

"Stop it! Stop calling me that. I am not your love. You don’t love me," I snapped. I knew I was acting like an insane woman, but I couldn’t control myself tonight.

His words carried a fierce growl laced with passion and intensity. "Do not underestimate my feelings for you, mia cara," he declared. My heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion in his voice. "I have loved you from the moment I held your hand in the delivery room, and I love you now!"

I gaped at him. Did he have any idea what he just did? I was speaking out of anger and emotions but he just declared he loved me!