Thirty Two.

I sit on the bottom of the staircase, nervously biting my nails as I wait for the bastards to return. I comb my fingers through my hair as I watch Trent's goons wander the corridors in pairs with their guns tucked into the side of their pants.

"Questa cagna ha le palle." (This bitch has balls) I hear one of them chuckle as he looks me up and down.

When I feel a primal instinct to flip him the bird, I bite my tongue. They all assume I have not picked up any Italiano throughout my stay here. I've learned to gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep my secret, despite the fact that I occasionally want to scream and yell at them for the crude things they say to me.

I swiftly decide against it, as I believe I can leverage it to my benefit when the time is perfect.

I take out my phone and dial Aces' number while pressing the phone against my ear.

It rings three times before it goes straight to his voicemail and a soft growl leaves my lips.

'Shit.' I mutter under my breath.

I press the redial icon, pressing it against my ear for a second time.

Again,

it rings three times and goes straight to voicemail. I grit my teeth and leave him a heartfelt message.

"Ace you asshat! I can't believe you've taken my son without my knowledge. A quick message or phone call wouldn't have killed you."

I hang up, shoving it back into my bag and the front door opens. My mouth twists into a snarl when Trent's gaze collides with mine.

"Mila, I always knew you enjoyed our time together." His words are heavily laced with sarcasm as he licks his lips, scratching the side of his jaw.

"You flatter yourself a bit too much where I'm concerned and It makes me pity you."

I watch as he throws his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh. "Ahh, Mila, baby," he purrs, stepping in front of me. "I wonder if you taste sweeter when you've got your back pressed up against the wall." He reaches out and brushes his hand down the side of my arm.

I slap his hand away, "Where's my son, Trent?" I grit my teeth in response to the tremor racing through my body in his presence.

"Your bastardo son and Ace are safe." He winks, flashing me with one of his cringe-worthy smirks.

"I swear to the Gods if you-"

He grabs me by my hair, yanking my head back. "You'll what, Mila?" He sneers, licking the side of my face. "Mi manca l'odore del tuo shampoo che mi riempie i sensi mentre ti scopo da distro." He whispers breathlessly as he breathes me in.

(I miss the smell of your shampoo that fills my senses while I fuck you from behind.)

I struggle against him and a pang of revulsion pricks my skin. "I want my son back!"

"I can fill your womb with children. All you have to do is submit to me, you can be free of Ace and stand by my side as my queen." He offers in a raspy tone that makes my ovaries shrivel up.

"And Sandro?"

"Forget about the little shit. I'll send him away to the best boarding school money can buy in the country and when he's old enough he'll be a soldier." As he speaks I can hear the livid jealousy tarnishing his words.

"I will slit my own throat before I submit to a fucking monster like you." I hiss with resentment and wince as his grip tightens.

"Your bastardo will have a better chance surviving under my protection than being in Aces. What do you think he will do if he finds out that he is not Sandros father?"

"And what do you think Aydem will do if I tell him that I had his baby and you're holding him as a ransom until I financially destroy him?" I continue to struggle against him.

He chuckles, removing his hand from my hair and pulls me flush against his body. "Are you threatening me?" His cigar breath fans my face.

"I don't threaten people, especially a Don. I'm just merely informing you what might transpire if something happens to my baby." I thank the Gods that my voice remains unflinchingly steady without the slightest hint of trembling.

"You're fucking sexy when you're mad." He touches my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, forcing it between my lips. A look of arousal glints in his eyes.

I narrow my eyes and bite it. I am confident he was visualising his thumb as his cock when he let out an agonising groan. So, I gave him a taste of what it would be like between us if he ever dared to try and make me milk him.

"Bitch!" He cries out as he sticks the tip of his thumb in his mouth and sucks on it.

"And you're still repulsive no matter what emotions cross your face."

He wraps his hand around the base of my neck, squeezing his hand as he gradually cuts off my air supply. "Don't think for a second that I won't eliminate you and your bastardo son, Mila. You've only lived this long because I planned to have you for myself. But the Russians have agreed to give me their Princess in the next couple of days." He crushes his lips against mine violently, stealing my breath away and just when I think I'm about to pass out he pulls back. "I'll have a new toy to play with. An innocent little cunt to mould around my cock as I plant my seed deep into her womb." He shoves me forward and I hit my shoulder against the wall.

Pain shoots up my arm and across the curve of my shoulder. I swallow back the tears that coax my throat and I shake my head while I hold his gaze.

"How many wars are you trying to wage? The Irish, the Turkish if Aydem gets wind that he has a son and now the Russians." I scoff, rubbing my shoulder to ease the throbbing pain eating away at me.

"I haven't lost a battle in year's." He asserts himself confidently. "I command the largest army and control several cities, including the police department."

"It doesn't matter how many battles you win. It's the war that counts and if you're waging three of them all at once.. What makes you believe they won't become allies just to take you out?" I laugh at his stupidity. "Do you really believe the Irish are happy with the deal you cut them? By taking you out they will gain your territory and run every Italian bastard out of the city. Starting with your nonna." (Grandmother.)

I don't bother mentioning the corrupt police. Every mafia family has at least half a dozen in their pockets and it's no big secret when they authorize a cleaner to come through during a homicide examination.

A look of rage crosses his face as I mention his precious grandmother. "I give you my word that a hair on your bastardo son won't be touched." His left eye twitches. "If you value your life, Mila. I suggest you take your leave now before I punish you." He growls.

I exhale a shaky breath as I turn and take my leave. "Mila!" He grounds outs.

I freeze,  turning my head and glance at him over my shoulder. "Fuck this up and you'll wish you were dead by the time I'm done with you."