Mafia's Captive Desire

Hurt

Lucy nodded, trying to seem calm, but inside, her heart pounded hard against her ribs. She felt like everyone in the room could hear it.

The soft music floated around them, the kind that was supposed to ease your mind, but to her, it felt far away, like it came through water. The bright lights, the clink of glasses, the low hum of voices, all of it seemed distant. Her skin prickled, as if unseen eyes were on her, watching, judging and waiting.

Barry moved a step away as an older man came over. The man gave a small nod, his face polite, his smile thin. Barry’s face changed in an instant. The sharp, cold edge faded, and in its place came a smooth charm, the kind that could fool anyone. His mouth curved in a small, easy smile. His eyes stayed cool, unreadable. He spoke in a low voice, too soft for Lucy to hear.

She caught the deep murmur of his words, nothing clear. The older man laughed once, a dry sound, then patted Barry on the arm before walking off.

Lucy watched him, heart tight. Barry stood tall, his suit neat, his shoulders squared. The man who had held her so close, who looked like he owned the room. She tried not to think about it, tried not to think of the woman he was meant to marry. The woman out there somewhere while he kept her tied up in his world.

He stepped back to her side, as if no time had passed at all. The music rose, gentle and sweet, and people clapped softly as a new song began. Barry’s gaze met hers. For a breath, his eyes seemed to warm, but that cold edge never truly left. “Almost done,” he said, his voice low.

Lucy started to answer, but just then a waiter passed by. The man moved with care, a silver tray steady in his hands. Two glasses of dark red wine sat on it, the light catching the liquid and making it shine. Small drops of water ran down the sides of the glasses.

Barry reached for one, fingers just brushing the stem.

Before she could think or stop herself, she snatched the glass that Barry was about to take. Her hand closed around the glass, and she raised it to her lips. She didn’t know why she did it. Maybe she wanted to feel bold. Maybe she wanted to break the strange hold he had over her. Or maybe she just needed to do something, anything, to stop the rush of thoughts in her head.

Barry’s brow lifted. His hand froze in the air. For a second, she thought he might snap at her. But he didn’t. He let her have it, watching her in that calm, cold way of his. She sipped, the wine smooth on her tongue, but she barely tasted it. She braced herself, waiting for him to scold her.

But Barry just picked up the other glass and took a slow sip. His eyes never left hers. “You’re full of surprises,” he said rather softly.

Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but loud voices cut through the music. Across the room, two men stood close, their faces tight with anger. The mood in the room changed at once. One man shoved the other, hard enough that a chair toppled over with a loud crash.

Then it happened fast. Both men drew guns, their moves sharp and quick.

Gasps filled the air. The music stopped. Glasses clinked as people stepped back, shock on their faces. Some guests ducked, some froze, their wide eyes locked on the men.

Barry didn’t flinch. His hand closed around Lucy’s arm, firm but not rough. “Time to leave." he said, calm as ever, as if the room hadn’t just turned into a fight ring.

He led her towards the doors. His guards were already in motion, their faces hard as they cleared the way. Barry didn’t rush. He didn’t look back. He didn’t care about the fight behind them, not his mess, not his problem.

They stepped outside into the night. Cool air hit Lucy’s face, but it didn’t clear her head. Her heart still raced. Her mind still spun. Barry opened the car door for her. She slid in, her hands shaking. Barry got in beside her, started the car, and drove off.

The city lights flashed past, gold and white against the dark. Inside the car, it was quiet, but Lucy’s heart wouldn’t slow down. She stared at her hands. They trembled in her lap. She clenched them into fists, trying to stop it.

Barry glanced at her. “You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. But she wasn’t. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Then the pain came. At first it was small... a tight twist in her belly. She frowned, shifted in her seat. But the pain grew. It felt like something inside her was twisting, tighter and tighter, like a hot knife cutting through her belly.

Her breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Sweat broke out on her forehead. The city lights blurred as she doubled over a little, the seatbelt digging into her side.

Barry's mouth set in a hard line. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low but sharp.

“I… I don’t know… my stomach hurts…” Lucy gasped. She tried to sit up straight, but the pain pushed her down again. It spread through her, like knives. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out.

Barry’s hands tightened on the wheel. He glanced at her, then at the road. His mind worked fast, you could see it in his eyes. “What did you eat?” he asked, voice tight.

“Nothing… just the wine,” Lucy whispered. Her voice sounded small, like it might break. The car seemed to shift around her.

Her head felt heavy, like it was full of water. A strange heat spread across her face. Then she felt something wet sliding from her nose. Slowly, thick and warm, it ran down to her lip.

Her fingers shook as she wiped it. When she looked at her hand, her heart dropped. Blood. Her eyes were filled with fear.

Barry’s face changed. His jaw went tight. His eyes darkened as he stepped towards her. “f**k,” he said under his breath. The word felt loud in the heavy air.

Lucy heard him, but everything was starting to fade. The car spun once, then the darkness took over her.