The Mafia’s Forbidden Desire

ANTONIO.

“Who are you?!” I growled as I approached Oliver in long, hasty strides, with intense anger raging within me.

“I am Oliver. Nothing more.” He weakly replied.

I clenched a fist, and in a split second, I delivered a powerful punch to his nose. Blood trickled down at the impact.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“What do you want from me?” He cried, spitting out the blood that rolled down his mouth. “I am innocent. Please let me go. I beg you.”

“Not until you tell me who you work for.” I groaned.

“I don’t work for anyone, and I fucking didn’t try to kill you.” He denied again, wincing in pain.

“A band tatted on the wrist.” I wiggled my wrist in front of him to demonstrate. “Does that ring a bell?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He muttered weakly.

He had been tortured repeatedly and had hardly eaten anything since he got here. That explained why he appeared so exhausted and looked like he would pass out at any moment.

But I was determined to get answers from him before he did. Even if he fainted, I would revive him and continue questioning him until I got the answer I wanted, until I knew who the fuck wanted me dead.

“I will be a father soon, please-”

I threw another punch at him before he could complete his statement.

“Who–do–you–work–for?” I growled, emphasising every word.

“No one.” He gave the same reply again. “I am not stupid. I would never send men after you. Please let me go.”

I could sense the sincerity in his voice, but I couldn’t trust him. Either he was innocent or he was really good at concealing the truth after all the torture. But even if he was innocent, why did that man mention his name? Why did the description he gave match Oliver?

“Did you tell anyone about what happened that night at the Moretti mansion? I know you hate me, but did you tell anyone about your hatred for me?” I asked him, my eyes narrowing as I awaited his response.

If he had told the wrong person about how I almost killed him, that might be the reason why his name was mentioned to me. My enemies might have taken advantage of his hatred for me and used his persona to carry out the atrocity. Just like I did with Petrov and Diego Romano.

“No. I didn’t speak with anyone about it. Sofia told me not to.” He replied.

“Think!” I exclaimed, urging him. “Think, Oliver! Think hard.”

He stared into a blank space as he tried to recall. After a while, his eyes suddenly narrowed, hinting that he had just remembered something. I folded my arms across my chest, paying absolute attention to what he was about to say.

“Unless, at the bar…” He paused for a few seconds, his eyes still narrowing, before continuing. “While I was drunk, I was devastated about Sofia and everything that was happening. I was so drunk that I lost sense of everything and blurted everything out to a stranger. I was under the influence of alcohol, though. And he was a total stranger. That’s all. I didn’t tell anyone else.”

“Do you perhaps remember any features from the stranger? Anything at all?” I asked, raising a questioning brow.

“Not really. But I think he has dirty blonde hair. He has an athletic build, and…” He trailed off as he tried to think of other features.

“…I can remember he had a weird tattoo inked around his wrist, like a snake or something…” He trailed off again, his eyes widening as he connected the dots. “Was he? Oh my God.”

“Yes.” I groaned, confirming his guess, as I began to untie him. “You were fucking set up.”

Whoever Oliver talked to at the bar must have something against me, and he took the opportunity of Oliver’s hatred towards me to attempt killing me while hiding under his name.

“Where are you taking me?” Oliver quickly asked as I continued untying him, and I blew out a sharp breath.

“You’re free to go.” I told him, pressing my lips tightly together.

I had an innocent man imprisoned and tortured when my real enemy was out there, still plotting against me. Oliver was the only clue I thought I had. But I was wrong. Now I have nothing! How could I fight against an enemy I didn’t even know?

The sound of my phone ringing suddenly cut through my thoughts, and I quickly tugged it out of my pockets.

Glancing at the screen, an unknown number flashed on it, and I really hoped it was Camilla’s abductor as I picked it up. I needed to know who abducted her, at least.

“Good evening, Don Antonio.” A voice with a rich Russian accent sounded from the other end of the phone.

I furrowed my brows closely together. “Who are you?”

“I’d rather we skip introductions. Where is Oliver?” The person suddenly asked, and the frown etched on my face deepened.

“What?” I asked, confused.

Why would a Russian call to ask for Oliver?

“To cut everything short, we have your sister, Camilla. And we believe you have Oliver. The hostage exchange should be simple. And the address would be texted to you now. Bring Oliver, and we’ll give you Camilla.” The person said, and a combination of relief and curiosity coursed through me.

I was relieved because I finally knew where Camilla was and had hope that she would be safe as long as I took Oliver to them. I was curious because I really wanted to know who the fuck had the audacity to take my sister in order to exchange Oliver for her.

“Who am I speaking with?” I promptly asked.

“Nikolai.” The person replied. “Nikolai Petrov.”

What the actual fuck! My gaze swiftly flicked at Oliver, my eyes narrowing in utter bewilderment. Oliver? Nikolai? How? How is he connected with the Petrovs?

“Send the address, and we’ll be there soon.” I said into the phone, still gazing at Oliver in shock.

“Good.” He replied and ended the call immediately.

“What?” Oliver asked, getting uncomfortable with my intense and mystified gaze.

I opened my mouth to talk, but my words died on my lips when I heard footsteps trailing down the staircase.

Turning to look at the exit, I saw Rosalinda standing at the base of the staircase. Damn it!

“Oliver!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening in perplexity.

Slowly, her raging gaze turned to look at me as she called my name with seething rage.

“Antonio!”