The Mafia Heir’s Runaway Mistress Chapter 03

The Mafia Heir’s Runaway Mistress Chapter 03

Elena’s POV

Lorenzo looked like a carefree playboy, but underneath it all, he was coldhearted.

Every holiday gift he gave me was bought by his men.

The restaurants he took me to? Always picked at random.

Yet whenever I ran into trouble on set, he never minded showing up personally to back me up.

During the five years I spent by his side, he poured enormous amounts of money into creating projects specifically for me.

He’d hire award-winning actors as supporting leads and bring in top-tier directors to helm them.

On the surface, it looked like he adored me.

But he never once considered whether I was actually suited for those strong female lead roles.

As a result, every project flopped. One after another.

I flopped so hard people in the industry found it baffling.

One year, I even won a Golden Raspberry Award.

A young actress I came up with made a crack about my acting in an interview, and I spent the whole night crying in Lorenzo’s arms.

Back then, he had probably been trying to turn me into another Sienna Ricci.

The problem was that I couldn’t have been more different from her.

He’d found the whole thing pretty funny. There was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“She’s right. Your acting is pretty terrible. Nowhere near as convincing as when you cry in my bed.”

After all those years, I was probably his one project that hemorrhaged money.

He’d had a little to drink that night.

Maybe he was in a good mood. Maybe he just didn’t give a damn.

Either way, he pinched my cheek and called the event organizer right in front of me.

And just like that, the actress who’d mocked me ended up with a Golden Raspberry of her own.

It was childish, sure.

But people were always moved by little things like that.

Just like I had been moved enough to agree to have a child for him.

The funny part was that he had been the drunk one.

Yet somehow I was the one who lost my mind.

At the time, his father was critically ill.

Every branch of the family was busy burying the news while vying for the title of the next Don.

As the youngest and most favored son, Lorenzo naturally became a target.

For several months, he never came to see me.

During that time, some big shot in the industry apparently assumed I’d been tossed aside.

He started testing the waters, then outright asked if I wanted to be his.

I turned him down over and over, as politely as I could manage. But that only seemed to irritate him more.

After a dinner gathering one night, he cornered me in a hallway, humiliated and furious, and tore half my dress off me.

Fortunately, my agent arrived just in time and stopped things from escalating.

After that, life on set became hell.

People went out of their way to trip me up.

Even the wire-rigging accidents started happening a little too often.

Eventually, word reached Lorenzo.

He made a point of clearing his schedule to pick me up from set one evening.

The sunset painted the sky crimson.

A black Maybach appeared outside the studio, quiet and imposing.

The moment I got in, the smell of alcohol hit me. Vodka. A lot of it.

His neck was flushed a deep shade of red.

His shirt collar hung open carelessly, exposing pale skin where that crimson color spread across his chest like fire.

Even the sunset outside looked dull in comparison.

“You’ve lost weight.”

He pulled me into his arms.

His fingers slid around my waist, lightly rubbing the soft flesh there.

Beneath his casual tone lay unmistakable exhaustion.

“No one’s keeping an eye on you, so you stop eating right. Is that it?”

My eyes stung. I said softly, “It’s not that. The new role requires me to look thinner.”

He held me quietly for a while.

Then he said, “Bobby will be driving you to and from set starting tomorrow. Anything comes up, you call him. Anytime.”

Bobby was Lorenzo’s personal driver.

For anyone with the wrong idea, that was a warning in disguise.

I sniffled and nodded. “Okay.”

Truth was, I wasn’t the only one who’d lost weight. He had too.

It was the first time in all those years I’d seen him look so… weighed down. So drained.

When he suddenly said he wanted a child, I was stunned.

This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned it.

The previous two times, he’d laughed lazily and joked that life was boring.

He’d said having a kid around might be fun.

But this time, he wasn’t smiling.

The mafia was no place for peace of mind.

Something must have happened. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been in such a rush for a child.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

He ran his hand through my hair, his breath still carrying the scent of alcohol.

“Give me a child. Our child.”

Just one child.

Everyone had to give something up for an easy life.

At least, that was the excuse I gave myself.

I gently rested my forehead against his, my lashes trembling.

Meeting his eyes, I answered softly but with complete sincerity.

“Okay. I’ll give you a child.”