Page 25 of The Mobster’s Secret

“Why don’t I make you a breakfast burrito?” she asks, patting me on the shoulder. “They’re absolutely delicious. And if you don’t like it, I’ll make you some French toast.”

I can see she’s not going to take no for an answer, so I give in with a smile. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now you go sit down, and I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready. Won’t be long.”

As I make my way out to the conservatory where I ate yesterday with Ivan, I have to admit to feeling a bit like a child. I’m supposed to be the new queen of the house, and yet everything is out of my control. My clothes were bought for me, my meals are prepared for me, and I can’t even leave the grounds if I want to.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. An email from my school.

This is a confirmation of your enrollment cancellation. My heart nearly stops. We’re sorry to see you go, but we wish you all the best!

My jaw drops, and the phone falls from my hand. Somehow, it doesn’t shatter on the floor. I was supposed to have class tonight, and now I get an email saying my entire enrollment has been canceled?

“What the hell…?”

“Here you are, dear!” Marge exclaims as she bursts into the room. “One breakfast burrito for the new queen of the house. You are going to love it—”

Her voice stops when she sees my expression. I must look like an idiot, staring off into the distance with my mouth open. She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and leans in.

“Honey, are you okay?”

I know it’s rude, but the anger in me is just too much to contain. I leap to my feet and rush right past her and out the door. I don’t care if Ivan’s in a meeting with his men; we need to talk. And we need to talk now.

My blood is boiling as I stride across the polished marble to the door of his office. He’s sitting there in his chair, taking up space like the world revolves around him. Just minutes ago, I saw a ruggedly handsome ruler, but now I see a tyrant. A man who just thinks he can do whatever he wants with no regard for anyone else.

I’m two seconds from charging right into his office and letting him have it when a man steps in front of me and closes the door. I recognize him as Tom, Ivan’s consigliere.

“He’s in a meeting.”

“I don’t care,” I reply. “I need to talk to him.”

I try to step around him, but he moves with me, blocking my way. “I can’t let you in there, Willow. Not right now.”

The nerve of this guy. Part of me wants to just slap him right across the face.

“He canceled my college enrollment!” I blurt out. “Now either you get out of my way right now, or I’m going to—”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he replies. “I canceled it on his orders.”

His words seem to nail my feet to the floor. I can’t find my breath, and I can’t move. I’m just stuck there, stunned by what he just told me. Sure, the email made it clear what had happened, but hearing it said so openly and brazenly from Tom’s mouth makes it so much more real. It’s like a dagger being thrust into my stomach.

The door to Ivan’s office opens, and he steps out, closing it behind him. “Something wrong?”

The sound of his voice jolts me back to life.

“Are you kidding me?” I snap, my voice filled with venom. “You canceled my classes! What gives you the right?”

“I told you, Willow. I can’t let you leave until this business with the Messinas has been settled. You saw what they were willing to do to me. If anything happened to you—”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” I bark, getting right up in his face. “But you don’t own me. I didn’t take your money, and if you think because I’m wearing some clothes you bought me that you get to dictate my life, then you are sorely mistaken!”

Despite Tom still standing there, I slip out of the yoga pants and top and toss them aside. He quickly turns and walks away as Ivan’s face hardens. Ivan quickly moves in to wrap his arms around me, no doubt not wanting anyone to see his queen in her birthday suit, but I leap back.

“Please, put your clothes on, Willow.”

“I don’t think you heard me, so I’m going to say it again.” My breath comes in short, desperate gasps. “You. Don’t. Own. Me.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow. The muscles of his jaw contract, and his fists flex at his sides. “I’m trying to protect you.”