Laisha Gardner

The darkness in his eyes, the dangerous smell of alcohol in his breath, and his deathly grip keeping me bound to him made my heart pound in my chest and my body quiver beneath him. Shamefully, it wasn’t anything that I wasn’t used to, because…the things I let him do to me?
When he was frustrated, annoyed, and angry at the world, I was here to be his pound of flesh. In return, he masked the void of my loneliness because for months, that was the transaction of our relationship. He’d pin me to the wall, bend me over the counter, pull my hair, slap me, choke me, and I enjoyed every second of it because in that moment, it finally felt good to be powerless.
Irony is a funny thing. I enjoyed being in pain because it made me forget how much I was hurting.
“I warned you, doll.” His voice strikes a string of chills down the base of my spine, a reminder that all of the time in the world could pass, and he’s still not letting go.
This is where the good girl in me dies.
“You’re mine now,” he whispers.
My name is Mercy—Mercy Carter. I went to college. Got myself a useless Bachelor of Science in Mathematics degree.
His name is Marcel—Marcello Saldívar. However, at the time, I didn’t know that he, the heir to the Saldívar Mafia empire, was the man that I had blindly offered myself to.
As smart as I am, I was stupid all the times when it actually mattered. After all, he did warn me that he was dangerous. I just didn’t think he could be much worse than my thug of a brother.
I was vulnerable—naive.
My name is Mercy, and I am the Mafia’s Mercy.

I wish someone had taught me you can’t make your happiness all about loving one person, because what happens when you lose them? What happens to what’s left of you after they’ve taken half of you?
My name is Elysian Reign, and unlike my last name, I’m not extraordinary. My mother died when I was born, and my father drank himself to death. I graduated with a Mathematics degree of which I hardly use as a junior Network Security Engineer. I live in a one-bedroom apartment around the corner of my favorite gym, and I have a Saint Bernard named Bubbles—unextraordinarily so.
His name is Cade Sinclair, and unlike me, he is extraordinary. His mother was one of my professors before she passed, and his father is the owner of Sinclair Enterprises. Yes, as in Sinclair Enterprises: the largest firearm manufacturer for the Armed Forces.
I should’ve known better. But you never imagine that the love of your life’s own father would go through lengths to make sure his son doesn’t end up with someone like you—even if it means forcing him into an experimental military hypnosis treatment.
After three years of putting myself back together, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson. You’d think that I would’ve double checked before accepting a job for a company his father happens to own. You’d think that I would’ve changed my identity and left the country after walking in on my first day to find that Cade is the lead Network Engineer on my team—aka, my boss.
Now, how am I supposed to work with him when he’s made it his mission to make my life a living hell? How am I supposed to make him—at the very least—tolerate me when he’s been hypnotized to hate me?

My hips work shamelessly, riding his hand as he sucks bruises into my neck. This dirty secret, this indecent proposition so at odds with my buttoned-up life. The light, near-cruel flicks, rip a scream from my throat as I shatter, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my body locking down in a bone-deep spasm.
I just had sex…with a stranger…in a dirty back alley…
"Be a good girl. Good girls get rewarded."
Bullshit.
Being a good girl doesn't get you jack shit, but a cheating husband and piles of credit card debt in your name—credit cards that he used to pamper his side piece, the mock with I really want to erase from my mind from that bitch: Maybe if you could give him a baby, he wouldn't need to go looking somewhere else."
After years of negative tests, how cruel is it that one reckless encounter with a stranger could succeed where my marriage failed? A strangled laugh escapes my lips, edging on hysteria.
The sexy man with dark eyes leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Who I am doesn't matter," he says, the words echoing in the marrow of my bones. "What matters is that you, Penelope, are carrying my descendant."
"Your…your descendant..?"