When Hearts Emerge: The Merciless Mafia Boss Wants Me Back

The winter night in Krixsas was ruthless, each gust biting sharper than a blade.

The cold seeped through Eleanor Harvey, sinking deeper than skin, until it felt like her bones themselves shivered.

As she tried to sit up, a dizzy spell blurred her vision, spinning the room into a disorienting haze.

Before she could steady herself, a rough hand twisted in her hair, jerking her backward. A harsh slap cracked through the silence, and pain flared bright and hot across her face, her dizziness deepening into a dark, suffocating whirl.

After hours at the autopsy table, Eleanor had been bone-tired, already on her way home when she got drugged and kidnapped.

When she came to, she recognized the faint, sweet odor lingering in the air-a scent she knew all too well from her time in the operating room.

Ether. They had used it to incapacitate her. A commonplace anesthetic, low in toxicity, primarily employed to induce general anesthesia.

The dull ache on her cheek was nothing compared to the confusion clouding her mind. She staggered to the window, prying it open with trembling fingers, and gulped the cold night air that flooded in, gradually cutting through the haze.

Then, a low chuckle slid through the silence.

Eleanor froze, turning slowly to find the source.

In the room's faint, flickering light, a woman lounged in a velvet chair, draped in garish attire and exuding an air of calculated menace.

Behind her loomed two silent, stone-faced men, their bulks casting dark shadows across the walls.

Eleanor's eyes darted among them, tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat.

"Who... are you? Why have you brought me here?"

The woman leaned back, lighting a cigarette with practiced grace, inhaling deeply. Her gaze, sharp as glass, fixed on Eleanor.

"Yesterday, did you happen to perform an autopsy on a woman who allegedly jumped to her death?"

An uneasy prickle crawled up Eleanor's spine, but she nodded, uncertain where this was leading.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "What did the autopsy reveal?"

Eleanor swallowed, the grim details flashing through her mind like fractured memories. "She...she'd been brutalized before she died. Broken bones, extensive bruising, and..."

The woman arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. "And...?"

Gritting her teeth, Eleanor forced herself to continue. "There were unmistakable signs of...assault. Sperms from more than ten people were found in her body."

A low chuckle slipped from the woman's lips, dark and mocking. "I'm Gemma Buckley," she said, her tone lilting with dangerous amusement.

She rose from her seat, moving toward Eleanor with a slow, deliberate grace.

Her smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory coldness.

"Now, I suggest you give me every detail. If you're withholding anything...well, let's just say you'd be wise not to follow in that poor woman's footsteps."

Eleanor's pulse quickened, her breaths shallow.

"Where am I?" she instinctively asked.

"Skyline Casino," came the clipped reply.

Eleanor stiffened.

Skyline Casino? The infamous hub of Krixsas's darkest dealings.

Did the deceased woman work here before she died?

Eleanor's mind raced, recalling the brutal injuries she'd examined.

"Are you...forcing women into...?"

"Careful with your words." Gemma interrupted, her chuckle light as she stubbed out her cigarette. "I simply gave her an opportunity to make some cash, nothing more."

Gemma's gaze sharpened. "She swallowed a memory card. Did you find it?"

Eleanor shook her head.

The cause of death was obvious-a fall from a great height. Hence, there was no reason to perform an internal examination.

Gemma's silence grew heavy as she studied Eleanor, her expression unreadable.

Finally, she asked, "Where is the body?"

"The morgue. At the police station."

Gemma leaned in, her voice a soft but chilling command. "You're going to retrieve that memory card for me."

Eleanor quickly realized what was going on.

The memory card likely held damning evidence of their crimes.

Perhaps the woman hadn't jumped; perhaps she'd been pushed.

After a tense pause, Eleanor gave a slight nod. "Alright."

Gemma's eyebrow arched at Eleanor's swift compliance, but she let it slide.

With a subtle motion from her, the two men behind her stepped forward, their expressions anything but kind.

Eleanor's gaze darted between them. "What are you planning to do?"

Gemma leaned casually against the wall, twirling a camera in her hand with a practiced, almost bored elegance.

"We don't have any reason to trust you, do we? What's to stop you from handing that memory card over to the police?"

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. Turning that evidence over to the police had been her exact plan.

Gemma's smile widened, her voice a silky whisper. "So, we'll need a little...assurance that you'll follow through."

As soon as she finished speaking, Eleanor turned to bolt, shoving past the two men.

She'd barely made it a few steps when an iron grip encircled her waist, lifting her off her feet.

She thrashed wildly, but in seconds, she was thrown back, landing hard on the bed.

Panic flared through Eleanor as the man's grip tightened, her struggles barely making an impact.

Gemma stood nearby, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she watched the unfolding scene.

When Eleanor's clothes were torn, revealing her bare skin, Gemma's gaze sharpened, assessing her.

She saw potential-if Eleanor worked here, she'd no doubt be a favorite among their clientele.

But Eleanor wasn't about to let them dictate her fate. With a swift motion, she yanked a hairpin from her tangled hair and drove it deep into the man's neck.

The man's eyes widened, hands flying to his neck as blood poured through his fingers. He collapsed in stunned silence.

The room froze. Gemma was caught off guard by the ferocity of the seemingly fragile woman. Her gaze dropped to the spreading pool of blood, her breath hitching; her boss would be furious- dead bodies weren't part of the plan.

It was the second death in just two days, and Gemma's composure cracked.

"What are you waiting for?" she barked. "Catch that woman-now!"

Eleanor sprinted forward, her footsteps pounding against the floor, men in black close on her heels.

Sweat stung her eyes, but she dared not stop.

"Stop!" a voice thundered from behind.

She risked a glance back, but in that instant, her foot slipped, sending her plunging toward the floor.

Instead of hitting hard, she felt strong, steady hands catch her, halting her fall.

Everything else seemed to fade, her ragged breathing the only sound in the sudden silence.

She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

Andreas Clark. The man she had once kept, only to let him go when she had no other choice.

Now he was here, his gaze cool and distant, a look that was as chilling as it was mesmerizing.

The light cast over him traced the hard lines of his face, emphasizing his commanding presence-powerful, unyielding.

But his eyes held a detached calmness, as though she were a stranger.

Did he not remember her?

Footsteps pounded closer, jolting Eleanor back to the present.

She clutched Andreas's hand, a whisper slipping from her lips. "Help me."

For a moment, Andreas's gaze lingered on her, a faint smirk curving at the corner of his mouth.

Slowly, he pulled his hand from her grasp, his expression untouched by recognition.

Eleanor stared in shock, her heart sinking as the realization settled in: he really didn't remember her.

Just then, the men chasing Eleanor came to an abrupt halt and, in unison, bowed deeply. "Good evening, Mr. Clark."

Eleanor's eyes widened as she looked up at Andreas, astonishment written across her face.

His presence commanded clear respect from these men in black. She felt a twinge of confusion.

Before she could make sense of it, the sharp click of heels echoed down the hallway. Gemma hurried over, her confident stride faltering as she drew closer.

Andreas's brow furrowed ever so slightly, and, as if on cue, Gemma stopped in her tracks.

She bent down, slipped off her high heels, and approached Andreas barefoot, bowing low.

"My apologies, Mr. Clark, for failing to manage my team properly."

Eleanor looked on, stunned.

The woman who'd lorded over her moments ago, a queen in her own domain, had suddenly become meek in Andreas's presence.

Andreas's dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, a fleeting expression that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

He paused, then pointed his finger at Eleanor, still seated on the floor.

"Is she part of your team?"

A flash of uncertainty crossed Gemma's face before she forced a nod. "Yes, Mr. Clark."

Eleanor noticed the mockery growing in Andreas's gaze.

He regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable, until his eyes drifted to her disheveled appearance.

His brow creased, and Eleanor's cheeks flushed as she realized her blouse had been torn open.

Quickly, she pulled her clothes together, covering herself as best as she could.

Andreas averted his gaze, and without another word, turned to leave.

He cast one final look at Gemma, who immediately lowered her head.

As he walked away, his voice rang out with a command. "Take her to my room."

Eleanor was yanked off the floor, dragged down the hallway, and shoved into a room.

She stumbled, her vision momentarily blurred by the glinting crystal chandelier above.

Instinctively, she reached for the door, but it slammed shut just as her fingers touched it.

Heart racing, she began pounding on it, desperate to escape, when Gemma's voice drifted from the other side. "Consider yourself lucky. Mr. Clark doesn't notice many women," she said. "But be wise-make yourself useful, or you'll regret every moment of this."

The footsteps faded, leaving Eleanor in stunned silence.

As her senses returned, the soft sound of running water from the bathroom caught her attention.

She blinked, absorbing the opulent surroundings- the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a dazzling view of the city below, and a plush chaise lounge positioned perfectly for someone to relax and take it all in.

Despite the luxury, the room's cold elegance felt oddly impersonal, like a space designed for fleeting encounters rather than comfort.

The bathroom door opened suddenly, and Eleanor turned to see Andreas step out, steam curling around him like mist from another world.

His robe hung loosely, just enough to hint at the elegance beneath, an effortless grace that clung to him as naturally as the water droplets still glistening on his hair.

They traced down his chiseled features, lending an almost magnetic allure to his otherwise icy expression.

Beneath the robe, the contours of his chest were visible-a physique both powerful and refined.

His gaze was cold, piercing, a look that seemed to freeze the air between them.

In that instant, the room felt like a mere backdrop, Andreas himself the undeniable focal point, every movement deliberate, exuding a quiet, overwhelming command.

Eleanor found herself momentarily captivated.

She alone harbored a secret desire: a thrill for the chase of men who were distant, unreachable.

She'd perfected the art of drawing them close only to discard them when they were most vulnerable, savoring the raw heartbreak left in her wake.

But she had never expected Andreas-the one man she'd walked away from years ago-to return to her life in this way.

"Come over here." His voice cut through her thoughts, cold and commanding.

Eleanor glanced up to find Andreas seated on the edge of the bed, his piercing gaze locked onto her.

She swallowed hard, feeling an instinctive urge to back away.

His stare was cold, unyielding, and laced with an unsettling calm that sent a shiver down her spine.

Noticing her hesitation, Andreas raised an eyebrow, his tone edged with a touch of impatience. "Didn't Gemma explain the rules to you?"

Eleanor shook her head, catching the faint glint of mockery that flickered in his eyes.

"New here, then?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of disdain.

"No," Eleanor replied, her tone firmer than she felt. "I'm not working here-I'm a medical examiner."

Andreas repeated her words, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A medical examiner?"

He let the words linger, then added with a wry smile, "A part-time?"

Eleanor's gaze narrowed, anger flickering in her eyes as she took in the mockery in his tone.

"I didn't come here willingly-Gemma had me kidnapped!" Eleanor said, her voice steady but threaded with exasperation. "I'm not working here."

"Liar," Andreas muttered.

With an almost lazy stride, he closed the distance, his hand slipping around Eleanor's waist to press her firmly against the table.

Eleanor tried to pull back, but his hold was unyielding.

"Please, listen to me! I'm a medical examiner. I don't work here," she explained, her voice strained.

A flicker of amusement touched Andreas's mouth, his gaze sharp and unreadable. "Alright, let's play along with your little story," he murmured. "A medical examiner, then."

Eleanor's heart sank as she recognized the mockery in his tone.

No matter how she tried to explain, he had already cast his judgment. To him, she was just a woman working in this casino.

As Eleanor opened her mouth to protest further, Andreas moved in close, silencing her words with a sudden, unyielding kiss.

In a swift motion, he pulled her pants down and tore away her black panties.