When Hearts Emerge: The Merciless Mafia Boss Wants Me Back2 / 3

Chapter 2 Her Boss Would Be Furious

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.