Mafia King

Last night, I didn’t feel Dante get in the bed with me. It’s either he was up so late and I slept like a log which made me not notice him getting in. Or he just didn’t come home.

It felt like something deep within was crawling inside me and it was worrying. Ever since I saw Dante with that woman, I have been anxious. He was such a gentleman while opening the door for her. I haven’t felt jealousy my whole life even if it’s towards the girls who liked Ethan. He was charming and I understood that part why many girls have a crush on him.

I don’t know that this time, towards an asshole, I was jealous. I knew the guy was a womanizer from the way he talks about his escapade with women and how he always flirts with me just so he could get me to his bed. When he finally had the chance, he pounced on me with no hesitance. It was typical of him and I should’ve expected this.

My hand holding the paintbrush stopped midair. Just the thought of Dante made me so emotional. I was having second thoughts if I should just throw the fucking canvass or put my emotions into painting.

I woke up this morning, with no Dante beside me, feeling like I wanted to paint.

When he left me that time, a few weeks later, I finally woke up one day having the drive to sketch something and the sketch finally turned into a painting. It was the same with continuing the book. I unexpectedly stopped again when I started to feel unwell.

In short, when I started feeling the symptoms of pregnancy.

Realizing I didn’t have any materials here, I asked Leo to buy for me this morning. I originally wanted to buy it myself but I wasn’t in good condition. Leo though was glad to help me. He managed to buy all the things I wrote in the list and I was happy. But then I started to remember Dante and what I saw yesterday, it dampened my mood. I honestly don’t know what to paint anymore. The whole thing was abstract. Maybe I should just go with that.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

The sound of the door opening pulled me out of my reverie. “Hey.” His voice added to my already existing fury.

I sighed. “You’re painting…” He trailed. Although his statement was more of a question. “Is this okay? Will the twins be okay with the paint?” He sounded so concerned that I almost believed him.

I scoffed. “Why do you care?”

“What’s with that tone?” I could feel him scowl behind me. He asks again when I didn’t say anything. “Look at me, amore. What’s wrong? Is it one of the symptoms? Your hormones? Maybe you should stop that for now.”

I stood abruptly, making him startled. “That’s none of your business, you manwhore.” I could see he was taken aback with my sudden reaction.

“What did you call me?” He growled. He sauntered towards me almost threateningly. His height devouring mine. “You better watch your tongue, Hailynn.”

“Or what?” I spat as I faced him head on. I had to tilt my head up due to height differences.

Dante frowned in confusion as a response. He observed me, eyes holding curiosity. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting this way? Have I done something wrong?”

Not a second ago, it was as if he’s ready to pounce on me. It was the look he used on me when I was still his captive.

“I don’t know, Dante. What did you do?” I was furious. I was jealous. And I don’t know how to contain this madness. I hate this feeling, especially towards this man. I sighed. “This was a mistake.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I don’t even know why I gave you a chance. You might be the father but I’m the one who’s carrying these two human beings in my womb.”

“What are you trying to say?” He suddenly became frantic. He reached out his hand and grabbed my arm almost roughly. I could see he was trying to hold back because of course I’m pregnant.

“I should’ve expected this from you. You won’t change for an ordinary woman.”

“What are you-” He exhaled slowly. He realized the tone was cold, angry and heavy. I appreciated that he was trying to be patient with me. But what I saw yesterday kept coming back to my head. I couldn’t drive it away. It was making me anxious and mad. “What are you trying to say, amore? Please.” He begged. His hand tightened its grasp on my arm.

I slapped away his hand. Dante gritted his teeth in anger. “Do not insult me.”

“Don’t take me for a fool.” I retorted. “You said you’ve always wanted a family. You lied. You only want a woman to warm your bed.” I walked out.

He called me but I ignored him. Again. He didn’t come after me though which was a relief. Whenever I see his face, my blood boils. I’m so angry and hurt.

A couple of hours later and some self-isolation in my locked bedroom, I managed to think that maybe I should just let him explain. He didn’t even know what his fault was but I’m just so angry and now confused. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was right. The way he smiled to that woman and showed off his gentleman skills.

Argh! I just hate how he’s making me feel.

This reminded me of the time when I was alone in my bedroom of his apartment. I sat on the bed and stared into space whenever we fought or he left me alone.

A knocked on my door startled me.

“Amore, eat. Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry. Just please eat. You haven’t gone out of this room. I’m really worried.” His voice was soft and melodic.

“Are you really?” I whispered quietly.

He knocked again, calling me several times but I didn’t answer.

“I will fucking knocked this door down if you don’t fucking open the damn door!” He was already hitting the door but I just let him be. My throat ached like something was squeezing my pipe.

What’s wrong with me? What the hell was wrong?

My eyes shifted towards the door hitting the ground. Dante finally knocked the door down.

“What the fuck, Hailynn!” He yelled while walking towards me. He stopped once he noticed my face.

“Amore?” He slowly walked towards me. He kneeled down in front of me, placing his warm hands on my thighs. He looked up from his position, studying the tears falling down my face.

“What’s wrong, amore? Please tell me.” He wiped the tears on my cheeks. His gesture was soft, warm and affectionate. His voice was the same which confused me even more.

Why? What the hell was wrong with me? I asked again to myself.

I sobbed at the thought and even him. The loud cry alerted Dante. “Amore, please.”

“I hate you… I hate you.”

I saw the fear and worry in his eyes. The shock and hurt.

“I hate… you.” I then blacked out.

The last thing I sensed was Dante’s scared face, the endless calling of my name and his warmth when he hugged and carried me.