I wiped my hands on my apron, my feet aching from the double shift at the small Italian restaurant where I worked. The dinner rush had been brutal, with tons of impatient customers and endless orders, and my boss, old Mr. Romano, had insisted I cover for someone who called in sick.
I didn’t mind the hassle of the restaurant. Work was my escape from my complicated home. When I was finally done, I pulled the apron over my head, sighing in relief of a well-served day. Soon, it would be payday, and I could finally give Rosie that little notebook she’d been asking for. Rosie, my younger sister who was just nine, loved to draw. Her sketches had a way of bringing beauty to our messy life. I quickened my steps, eager to get home and see little Rosie and Mom. My relationship with Dad wasn’t great ever since I caught him cheating on Mom. His temper had been flaring more often lately, and I didn’t want him to lash out at me. Mom always thought I was at fault for hating my dad. She doesn't know the reason. When I turned the corner to our street, I froze. Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Instead, three sleek black vehicles were parked haphazardly in front of our house. My heart sank, feeling that something wasn't right. I quickened my pace, fear twisting in my stomach. I didn’t trust my drunkard father especially alone with my sister and mum. When I reached the porch, I heard a scream, making me halt for a second. Rosie! I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was the voice of Rosie, my little sister. Without thinking, I bolted through the door, my breath catching at the sight inside. Dad stood near the dining table, his face pale and his hands trembling. On her knees, clutching her sides, was Rosie, sobbing uncontrollably. I rushed to her, pulling her close to my chest. “What’s wrong, Rosie?” I asked, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she pointed with a trembling finger. I followed the direction of her finger and saw blood stains on the carpet. What the fuck? Where the heck was the blood coming from? I asked letting my gaze trace to the source. I froze in terror. Mom’s lifeless body lay on the floor, blood gushing from her forehead. “Mom? Mom??” My voice broke as I yelled louder. “Mommmmmm!” I rushed forward, dropping to my knees, shaking her lifeless body, praying for any response. “Don’t!” Dad snapped, his voice shaking. I whipped my head around, the fury blazes in my eyes. “What have you done?!” "you killed mum!" Before he could answer, another sound cut through the chaos—a sob from Rosie. I turned toward her and saw a man dressed in black standing beside her with a gun pointed at her head. His face was devoid of emotion as he firmly gripped her despite her struggles. “Get your hands off her!” I yelled at the man, who only chuckled in response to my threat. “You didn’t tell me you had another daughter, William,” the man said in a low menacing voice. “Please,” Dad pleaded. “Tell Mr. Black I just need more time—” “You’re out of time,” the man interrupted sharply. “Mr. Black demanded I bring either the money or something equivalent.” My blood turned cold at the name Mr. Black. Of course, I knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Damien Black, The Mafia King. Stories of his cruelty and power were whispered across the city like ghost tales. “H-How much does he owe?” I stammered. It shouldn't be so much that I can't pay, I thought. The man in front of me chuckled. “I see your father didn’t let you in on his debt. He owes my boss a million.” My eyes widened in shock. A million? Even if I worked nonstop for three years, plus extra shifts, my salary wouldn’t even cover half of that. When I didn’t respond, the man held Rosie tighter, “I’m taking her,” “Over my dead body!” I exploded, stepping in front of her. “Brave, aren’t you?” “I’m not letting you take her!” I spat, fists clenched. “Not after killing Mom!” “She got what she deserved,” he said coldly. “She was trying to play smart.” “That doesn’t give you the right to—” “Tracey, stop!” Dad shouted. “Why?” I snapped, tears burning my eyes. “So you can stand there and do nothing while they destroy us? You let them kill Mom, and now you’re letting them take Rosie? What kind of father are you?” “I’m sorry, Tracey.” I ignored him and continued to shield Rosie. “She’s a child! You can’t take her!” The man raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “And who’s going to stop me? You?” My fists clenched tighter. “Why don’t you take the one who owes you instead?” I challenged, glaring at Dad. He flinched, shame flooding his face, but he said nothing. The man chuckled darkly. “You’ve got fire. I like that.” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Tell me, sweetheart, if I take him, who’s going to pay the debt? Huh?” I froze at the thought. He was right. If Dad was taken away, there’d be no way to pay back a million dollars. I was just a nineteen-year-old college student with a part-time job. But I couldn’t let them take Rosie. “I need collateral,” “Someone to ensure your father pays his debt. Your sister will do just fine, but…” His eyes roamed over me, glinting with interest. “You seem like a better option.” “Fine, take me instead,” I said, walking towards him. Rosie cried out, reaching for me. I knelt in front of her, cupping her face. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered, trying to sound strong even though fear twisted in my gut. “It’s going to be okay, Rosie. I’ll be back before you know it. Just… take care of yourself and listen to Mom’s favorite song for me, alright?” Rosie nodded weakly, still crying as I hugged her tightly. “Enough of this,” the man barked, grabbing my arm and pulling me away. “Time to go.” His gaze shifted back to Dad. “You’ve got five days to pay up. One million. No excuses. If you fail again, your daughter—” “No!” Dad shouted, jumping to his feet. “You can’t do this! Please, give me more time—” “Five days,” the man repeated coldly, cutting him off. “And trust me, Mr. William, if you fail again, you won’t like what happens next.” My legs trembled beneath me. Five days. It wasn’t much, but it was something. At least Rosie would be safe for now. “Let’s go,” the man said, dragging me toward the door. I glared at Dad as I was pulled away. “This is your fault!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “You’d better fix this in five days!” Tears filled his eyes, but he didn’t say a word as the door slammed shut behind me. ___ The ride in the black car was silent, except for the soft hum of the engine. I sat in the backseat, squished between two of Damien’s men. Neither had spoken a word since we left the house. I couldn’t stop sniffling, as the tears I had been holding were threatening to stream down my face. The scene of what had just happened was unable to stop replaying in my head. My mother’s lifeless body, my sister’s cries, and my father’s cowardice. The images tore at me, over and over again. I glanced at the man in the front passenger seat—the one who had taken me. He was staring at his phone, typing something with the calm focus of someone who hadn’t just helped destroy my family. How could he look so collected? So unbothered? My mind raced with various thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. I wondered what was going to happen to me. If I would ever see my family again? And how in the world was my stupid father supposed to come up with a million dollars in just five days? “You’re quiet,” the man in the passenger seat said slightly turning his head back at me. I glared at him through the rearview mirror. “What am I supposed to say? Thank you for killing my mum and ruining my life?” He chuckled. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. That might get you into trouble where we’re going.” “Where are we going?” I demanded. “To see my boss,” he replied. "Mr. Black.” Of course. I rolled my eyes. What was I expecting, they had to take me to see Mr. Black. My stomach twisted at the thought of his name. Damien Black. The notorious Mafia king. I had only heard rumors about how cruel the infamous man was. I had never imagined I'd get in contact with someone like him, And now, I was headed to see him. It was enough to terrify anyone beyond wit. “What is he going to do with me?” I asked, my voice now shaky as I began to understand the gravity of the situation. The man didn’t answer. Instead, he exchanged a glance with the driver, and my anxiety spiked. We arrived at our destination, and the car pulled up to an estate that looked more like a fortress. There were high walls surrounding the huge mansion, and armed guards patrolled the grounds. The gates opened, and I felt my nerve crack as we drove through. The car parked, and I was dragged out and into the mansion by one of the men beside me. Inside, the mansion was more luxurious than the outside. I was momentarily dazzled by the sight of crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and gold accents, forgetting my problem for a second. But then the men stopped in front of a set of double doors, and one of the guards knocked before pushing them open. “Sir, she’s here.” I was shoved inside, stumbling slightly. The room was a library, the walls lined with shelves of books. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and Damien sat by the window, his wheelchair positioned so he could overlook the estate. “Leave us,” he ordered without looking up. The guards filed out, leaving me alone with him. He was nothing like I had imagined. He was younger, maybe in his early thirties, with sharp features and piercing dark eyes that seemed to see right through me. He exuded power and authority, despite being confined to a wheelchair. I couldn’t believe the most feared man in the city was seated in a wheelchair. I scoffed slightly, causing him to look up from the papers on his desk. In an instant, his gaze locked onto mine. “You’re William’s daughter?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of danger. I nodded. “Yes.” “Sit,” Damien said, gesturing to a chair. I stayed standing, my arms crossed. “You don’t get to order me around.” He turned to face me, his gray eyes narrowing. “Sit. Now!” The command in his voice made my stomach drop. Reluctantly, I sat down, with every muscle in my body tense.Damien leaned back in his wheelchair, assessing me like a prize he'd just won. “I assume you understand why you’re here.” “My father owes you money, and I told your men I’d come with them if they left my sister alone,” I said, forcing myself to hold his intense gaze. I could see a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as soon as the words left my mouth. It was cute. Cuter than intended especially for a man so evil. “Foolish!" He snorted, audible enough for me to hear. I folded my hand into a fist “Look, I don’t care what you do to me. Just leave my family alone.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at the audacity. “You’re willing to sacrifice yourself for them?” “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't,” I retorted. “Five days. That’s how long your father has to pay me back. If he fails…” His gaze darkened. “consider yourself dead. Do you understand?” “I understand.” I nodded, my heart pounding hard. “Good. For now, you’ll stay here. My men will show you to your roo
I paced the room anxiously, biting my nails. The hours were ticking by too quickly, and I had no escape plan in mind.Damien’s words replayed in my head: “There’s a party tonight, and I want you to get ready, you're tagging along.” He had meant it as an order, but all I heard was an opportunity.Maybe my only chance to run.I had just twenty-four hours left, and waiting for my father to show up with the money was pointless. A million dollars? He’d never come through. I couldn’t stay here anymore.I sighed, tugging at the hem of my plain black pants and simple white top. They weren’t formal, but they were the most comfortable clothes I could find from the small wardrobe Damien had given me.I glanced at myself in the mirror, running my fingers through my damp curls to push them out of my face. A knock sounded on the door, I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. For a moment, I thought about not answering, but I knew better. Damien wasn’t the type to be kept waiting.“I'm coming,” Da
Tracey's POV The ride back to the mansion was silent. Neither Damien or I had said a word to each other. I knew i had messed up, big time and he didn't look like he wanted to hear a word from me. Not like i had anything to say either. So, I sat there, frozen, with tears rolling down my face. My throat was hurting from trying to hold back the sobs, and my chest felt like it was being squeezed. I shut my eyes, hoping to block out everything, but all I could see was him. The Italian standowner, his terrified face as he lay in a pool of his own blood.... Damien's man had killed him right in front of me. Just like that, With no hesitation, no second thoughts. And now, I didn’t know what to feel. Should I be grateful that Damien saved me? Or sick from witnessing it all? The car jerked suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. I shifted, trying to find some kind of comfort but, Damien noticed and his hand shot forward gripping my arm. “Don’t move,” he muttered coldly and I swallowed hard
Damien's POVI leaned back, trying to keep my temper in check. “If it were that simple, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now? And let’s not forget, Skylo, I asked you to get me her fucking father or my fucking money...not some fucking teen girl who can't control her damn emotions. What the fuck do you expect me to do with a fucking child, huh?” I groaned frustrated by it all.He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “She was fun and challenging, I thought she'd bring spice into your boring life, you know. And she's actually doing a great job stressing you nuts right now”“Shut up,” I snapped, running a hand through my hair. Skylo tilted his head, and he gave me a slightly serious expression “You can't keep her locked up forever, What's the plan here? Wait until Daddy dearest comes crawling back?”"I don't intend to.""Look, Damien. You’ve got options. Kill her and be done with it, or—”“Don’t test my patience,” I warned, getting infuriated by the thought of it. “Killing her is off
Tracey's POVTwo days! It has been two whole days since Damien had me locked up in here, and I was already getting suffocated without human contact. Well, except for Ann, the elderly maid who treated me like I was worse than trash whenever she was here.She’d come in to bark orders, shove food trays at me, and act like my very presence offended every bit of her. It was obvious she hated me. I could see it in her sharp glances, the way her lip curled into disdain when she looked at me was enough to tell me that I wasn’t welcome here—not by her, not by anyone else.And honestly? I didn’t blame them. I didn't want to be here either. I hated everything about it. Being confined under Damien's wrath was worse than death itself.I leaned against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself as tears welled up in my eyes. I hated crying. It made me feel weak, but I couldn’t stop. The pain I was feeling wouldn’t let me.The decision to escape had been the dumbest decision of my life. I didn't kno
Tracey's POVMy head throbbed, and my mouth tasted like something had crawled up in and died. I groaned and tried to move, but realized I was stiff.What the—?I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the ray of light seeping through the window. The first thing I saw was, the demon, Damien sitting pretty in his chair beside the bed. His arms were crossed, watching me like I was some particularly irritating puzzle he’d just solved.“You’ve got some nerve, little girl,” he said, his voice low and sharp, cutting through my grogginess.My stomach dropped.“The audacity to try and kill yourself,” Kill myself?? Oh, snap! He knew already.It all came rushing back—the guards talking about the poison, me sneaking into the medicine cabinet, and swallowing two pills before dragging myself into Damien's office. I’d thought I was dying when he told me to kneel. Honestly, I didn't expect to wake up at all. Not that I wanted to.But here I was, back to reality.I stared at him, my brain didn't even to sear
Damien's POVTracey was at it again and this time, she had stretched my nerve limit in every way possible. When she came into my office, standing there with her small figure looking timid, all teary and apologetic, I thought she had fucking realized her mistake, And when she started crying, hell yeah! I was convinced she was remorseful. Not until she fucking slumped on the cold floor of my fucking office, leaving me dazed for a second. That little drama queen had made me stand off my chair, picking her up on impulse, with her sweet vanilla scent flooding my nose, but I knew I had no time for that. I dashed out the door to the nearest room—Mine. I gritted my teeth as I stood over the window relaying my personal doctor's words. "Boss, She's alive. Just the effect of the drugs kicking it" He said, packing his bags to leave. W-what? What the fuck was he talking about?? As far as I was concerned, Tracey has been locked up in her room with no human contact just like I instructed. Well
Ann kept on humping her wet mouth around my cock, stretching to take in all the size.... I closed my eyes shut, trying to block Tracey out of my thoughts and instead focus on enjoying the moment with Ann. It was damn hard as all I did proved fruitless. All I could think of was that blabbing tongue of Tracey's circling around my groins. “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, forcing my head back against the chair. Ann didn’t stop—she knew better. Her pace quickened, her hands working in unison with her lips, trying to pull me back into the moment. I let out a soft moan of pleasure as I pushed on Ann's head to go deeper and faster. Just as I was starting to feel the faint bulge of release, my phone buzzed on the table beside me. My eyes snapped open, and my grip on Ann’s hair tightened. "Fuck! " I cursed pulling her head away as I stretched to get my phone off the table. Her lips parted, swollen and red, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she waited, kneeling with my built up cock i
Damien P.O.VI can't help but, sigh in frustration.Tracey was gone from my sight and I was left to deal with Camillé."Are you okay?" I turned my attention back to Camillé, who was still caressing her wrist, sniffling like I didn't know the damn truth.Tracey could be stubborn and a handful to deal with, but, she'd never do such.She couldn't even bear to see someone else hurt.Camillé nodded weakly. "I just— I didn’t expect her to react that way, Damien. I was only trying to be nice."Nice? That was the last thing I’d call Camillé when it came to Tracey. “Oh cut with the bullshit, Camillé.“ I snapped, irritated by her false act. "Go upstairs. I'll have the doctor check your wrist." I ordered and she nodded, her face all paled with embarrassment mI watched her sneak a glance toward the hallway where Tracey had vanished. There was something smug hidden beneath her glassy-eyed expression as she walked away, but I didn't have time to analyze it.Instead, I wheeled away, my grip tigh
Tracey P.O.VAfter everything that had happened, I thought it was best to stay out of sight, away from any more trouble. And by trouble, I meant Damien and his so- called 'fiancée' Camillé.I had enough drama the moment I stepped foot in this house.Staying locked in my room was supposed to be a safe choice. But after hours of doing nothing, I was bored beyond wits and counting the ceiling was no longer helping.My mind ran in circles,I couldn't take it anymore. I paced my room, staring at the ceiling, as it was the only possible way to distract myself from suffocating. But today, it didn't work. “Argghh” I groaned, seating on the bed and standing up almost immediately. This was it. I need to leave the room, even just for a little while. I'd run nuts if I remain here for a second longer. Maybe a movie would be a distraction.With a sigh, I walked downstairs, moving past the hallway to the parlor. The house was extremely quiet. Even the guards stationed at the corners barely acknowl
Camillé’s P.O.V"That bastard!" I yelled, smashing the glass cup in my hand across the room in anger.I couldn't stop myself from pacing the length of my bedroom, my fingers curled into tight fists as the conversation between me and Damien replayed in my head.I can't believe it. He had defended her. Damien had actually defended that bitch.It all felt weird and unbelievable because the Damien I knew never defended anyone, let alone a mere captive who was supposed to be just an insignificante puttana.Yet, somehow she had managed to make Damien turn against me."Argggghhhhh" I bursted out loud, unable to hide my frustration.I couldn't even place what she was doinghere in the first place. No one had said a word about her to me, even when I asked, nobody seemed to want to say a thing.I should have known Tracey was trouble from the first day I laid eyes on her. The way she hovered too close, staring at him when she thought no one was watching. Playing innocent, like she wasn’t just
DAMIEN’S P.O.V“What did he say?” I asked Skylo, my voice measured. “He wants you to keep your ‘temper’ in check.” My teeth clenched. “His exact words?“ Skylo didn’t answer right away. That was never a good sign.I reached for the glass and took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before setting it down with a slow clink.One dead stare at Skylo and he began speaking. “He said, and I quote, ‘Tell Damien that if he can’t control his temper, I will.’”A slow, humorless chuckle escaped me.Really? Was that a threat or warning? I chuckled again. Diego really had the guts to threaten me just like he had a fucking effect on me.I was Damien Black for Christ Sake, and I definitely don't give a fuck about his or his daughter feelings.Who the fuck did he think he was to interfere in the affairs of my household?I reached for the half-empty glass of whiskey on my desk, taking a gulp before setting it down loudly on the table.Skylo sat still, just watching me with no words said. If you
Damien’s POVI had stopped Tracey from leaving and now she was currently standing in front of me, all tense and stiff.“We both know you didn't come here just to talk about my breakfast getting ruined.“I paused, staring deeply into her as I watched her eyes flick everywhere except at me.“Spit it out, Tracey. What is it?“ I asked watching her eyes snap to mine.“There’s nothing to say.” She muttered defensively but, I could see it in her eyes.She was fucking lying.I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Everything was pissing me off—Camillé, this whole damn situation... and Tracey standing there like she didn't know she was driving me insane.She lips pressed together like she was holding back words that were clawing to get out, but It was so obvious she was debating whether to speak or turn around and leave.After a moment of silence between us, Tracey realized I had caught in on her lies and there was no way I'd let her leave the office without answers from her, she took a deep
TRACEY'S P.O.VI stood in dismay watching as Camillé walked away with her shoulders held high in arrogance.I couldn’t help but sigh out loud. Camillé actually threatened me, all because of a grown-ass man.Was she really kidding me. Acting like a psychopathic wife when she was just a Fiancée. I scoffed.She shouldn't be facing me. I wasn't the one who snapped at her or who said I hated her meal. I wasn't her so-called fiancée either.What was my fault in all these?The thought alone made my stomach churn. I wasn’t even sure if I should get exhausted or offended from all this. It all felt ridiculous.I turned away from the kitchen, my mind spinning with everything that had happened.Just as I moved right, I bumped straight into a broad chest by mistake.“I'm sorry.“ I mummured raising my head to meet with whoever it might be, only to be met by Ryan's concerned gaze.Ryan hands came up, holding me in place before I could stumble back. His brows furrowed as he studied my face."Is every
Tracey’s POV“I'm asking you a fucking question. What the hell is this, Camillé” He growled.I sat still, watching Damien wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he glared at the plate in front of him, like it had personally offended him. He shoved it away with a loud hiss.Camillé was still standing there, dismayed by his sudden question, but when he snapped again, she let out a nervous laugh moving closer towards him.“D—Damien… what are you talking about? I made your favorite dish.”His eyes snapped to her. “You call this trash a meal?“ “I don't eat such shit.“ His sharp voice cut through whatever little confidence she had left.Her face turned red. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to smirk. For the first time that morning, I actually felt good.Camillé shook her head, trying to force a smile. “Maybe you’re just not in the mood for it today.” She picked up a spoon and took a bite herself, chewing slowly like she was proving a point.She swallowed, then looked at Damien, with
TRACEY’S P.O.V.I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying not to let the ugly feeling settle in my chest. But, the more I was trying to evade it, the obvious it became.I knew exactly what I was feeling. Jealousy. It was an undeniable feeling that clouded me ever since I saw Camillé walking right in.Arghhh!Why the fuck was I even feeling this way?Camillé was beautiful. No doubt. She had that effortless, expensive beauty that looked straight out of a goddamn magazine. Tall, blonde, perfect body, the kind of woman who belonged in Damien’s world. The kind who could actually stand beside him without looking out of place.She was unlike me. I swallowed, forcing myself to look away from my reflection. It didn’t matter if I was developing feelings for him or not. Damien wasn't mine, neither was he supposed to be mine in the first place.I was just a captive, and a nobody to him. My only focus should be getting out of here, not feeling whatever the hell I was for him. Not caring
DAMIEN'S P.O.VI could fucking see the jealousy in Tracey’s eyes.She was doing a terrible job at hiding it especially as she stood there with her fists clenched by her sides.she pressed her lips into a slight frown.I leaned back in my chair, a slow smirk tugging at my lips as Camillé’s manicured hand rested lightly on my shoulder.I didn’t bother to shrug it off. I was liking the effect it had on Tracey.The way her eyes were locked in, switching between me and Camillé, trying to figure out what was going on.In a way it made me feel good, because I could tell what exactly was through that damn mind of hers.She was probably thinking who the fuck was Camillé and I owed her no damn explanation.I didn’t owe anyone that. But still, for some reason, I let the words slip.“Tracey, this is Camillé,” I said, my voice calm and measured. “La mia fidanzata.(My fiancée)”The moment the word fiancee came out of my mouth, I felt a distate pour across my tongue.Me saying that meant I was indire