Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father

Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Brooklyn

"You want me to do what!?" I all but shriek. Aden is lying flat on his back in the hallway outside my room, gritting his teeth in pain, struggling to get up.

For a second, I feel lost. It's disorienting to see him this way, so helpless. All I've known him as, so far, is the most dominant, powerful criminal I've ever met.

But right now, he is also impatient. Someone is approaching up the stairs, quickly.

"Just get me to your bedroom, NOW," Aden growls, nodding toward the open door of my room, just a few feet away.

I get a hold of myself, moving behind Aden and hooking my hands into his armpits. Then, I heave with all

my might, pulling him towards the open door. Aden is big, and strong, but I am strong, too. He pushes with his feet to speed us along, the best he can offer.

When he's fully in my room, he falls back against the carpet. I shut the door, then slide down the wall, exhausted, staring at him. He's lying on his back, breathing hard.

A few horrible minutes pass when I consider what the hell will happen to me if people discover the Mafia King's dead body in my room.

But, during those minutes, Aden's breath softens. The horrible, crinkled look of pain disappears, and his face takes on its normal lines. He's still sweaty and exhausted, but he was right. It passed.

"Are you...are you okay?" I venture after a few minutes of calm breathing.

eyes still closed, like he's trying to wish himself somewhere

on? Because an Alpha like you shouldn't have heart issues. But I can call

position, his form imposing once again, then makes

face that I don't buy it. He shakes his head and looks down-embarrassed, I think-and pauses before

"something that happens to me sometimes. It's been

against

degree taking over

me, pure annoyance

they can present with the intensity of a heart

lip, finding myself feeling sorry for him. I know he's terrifying, I know he took me here

been able to see another person in pain and not want to help them. "You know," I say, as gently as I can. "There are people that can help you with this sort of thing. You

need to see a doctor." His

my eyes internally, not daring

don't want to see a doctor," I offer,

head. "How could you possibly help

frustrated. "I am a trained therapist. I

still doesn't answer my question," he says, his voice

debilitating mental health condition" I try

me.

listen. My instinct is telling me to. But my training and my desire to help-push back against my

now, but it isn't real. He's doing it for show. "An anxiety disorder? A mental illness? Sissies make those up terms so they