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.

low, eyes still closed, like he's trying to

tell me what's going on? Because an Alpha like you shouldn't have heart issues.

position, his form imposing once again, then makes

can tell by my face that I don't buy it. He shakes his head and looks down-embarrassed, I

hair out of his eyes, "something that happens to me sometimes. It's

lean my head back against the door, putting the pieces

my god," I say, my psychology degree taking over before I can stop it. "It was a

pure annoyance

to this extent. We learned, in my program, that when they're really severe they can present with the intensity of a heart attack." It makes sense.

terrifying, I know he took me here against my will,

can't help it. I've never really 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

my eyes internally, not

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

lifts his head. "How could you possibly

a trained therapist. I wouldn't think you'd

a little. "That still doesn't answer my question," he says,

be a seriously debilitating mental health

me.

and my desire to help-push

A mental illness? Sissies make those up terms so they can