The Mafia And His Angel: Part 2 (Tainted Hearts 2)

Confused, I opened the door but found this room empty and dark too.

What the fuck? Where was she?

Walking out, panic welled inside of me. My heart thumped harder as my stomach rolled with tension. I quickly walked down the hall, my hands going up to my hair in frustration, my fingers digging in my scalp.

“Ayla?” I called out.

I saw Viktor coming out of his room, and he looked at me confused. “Where’s Ayla?” I asked.

“She was in her room the last time I saw her,” he replied, alarm flashing in his eyes.

“She’s not there!”

My feet quickly took me down the stairs as I looked around the house in panic. My body trembled at the thought of losing Ayla.

Stopping at the last step, I saw Maddie coming toward me. Her stares were hard, and she scowled before turning her face away, ignoring me.

“Where’s Ayla?” I growled low, glaring at the stubborn woman in front of me. If there was someone who could answer this question, then it was Maddie.

Her chin went down in a defiant movement, and she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Fuck! Anger coursed through my body, and I roared, not caring that I would be waking everyone up.

“Where is she?”

Maddie’s eyes turned cold, and she stared at me blankly before stepping forward. Looking up at me, she hissed, “Fuck you.”

With that, she walked around me and went up the stairs. My whole body was vibrating with fury. And dread. Raking my fingers through my hair, I clenched them tightly as the muscle in my jaw ticked from the way I was gritting my teeth.

“I saw her going into Maddie’s room.”

Nikolay’s voice snapped me out of my dreadful thoughts, and I swiveled around to see him standing beside Viktor on the top of the stairs. He nodded, and I released a shaky breath, relief filling my body.

Without sparing them a glance, I quickly walked back upstairs and knocked on Maddie’s door. I heard quiet footsteps approaching from the opposite side, and my shoulder sagged in relief. She was in there. I could feel it.

The door opened a few seconds later, and there she stood, wearing her light pink nightdress. My heart squeezed at the sight of Ayla, and I just wanted to wrap my arms around her. I just wanted to hold her, feel her.

Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and she made a move to close the door, but I stopped her movement with my foot. “Ayla. Stop,” I growled.

Her lips twisted ruefully, and fire sparkled in her angry eyes. “Alessio, I told you—”

“I know what you said, but this time you are going to listen to me,” I continued, talking over her.

“No,” she snapped, her shoulders pushed back stubbornly.

“Why are you doing this?” I said with a sigh, a sense of defeat taking over me.

Ayla stared at me for a few seconds. I saw the hurt in there. Pain, guilt, anger, sadness. My Angel was hurting, and she wouldn’t even let me comfort her.

“You taught me how to be strong,” she started, her voice soft.

I blinked up at her, confused. But her next words were like a knife stabbing at my heart.

“This is me being strong.”

With that, she shut the door in my face. I didn’t have a chance to stop her. I was overwhelmed with shock as I stared at the door.

Placing my forehead on the door, I closed my eyes.

How am I going to fix this?

Chapter 13

Ayla

I was dreading opening my eyes. Falling asleep last night without Alessio was painful. I had to take my sleeping pills, just in case my nightmares came back.

In the back of my mind, I had this annoying voice whispering to me that it was my fault. But the other voice fought back, telling me I needed time to think.

Holding the other pillow to my chest, I burrowed deeper under the comforter with a sigh before opening my eyes. But I quickly covered my mouth with my hand to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape at the sight in front of me.

“Alessio,” I breathed, my eyes fixated on his sleeping form.

Shoving the purple comforter from my body, I got off the bed and walked to him. He was sleeping on the chair beside the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head rolled to the side in what looked like an uncomfortable position.

His suit jacket was thrown carelessly on the floor while his black shirt was unbuttoned on the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing just a little of his tattoos that ended there.

I came to a stop in front of him, my heart thumping at the sight of his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, his forehead pinched with tension even in his sleep. He looked tired, his lips turned down in a frown. Leaning forward, my fingers brushed lightly over his forehead, softly easing the tense lines.