ERICA I stood in the kitchen, my hands busy chopping vegetables for the salad, while my mind wandered elsewhere. The house was eerily quiet except for the faint sound of laughter coming from the living room. Raffael and Clarissa. I didn’t need to peek around the corner to know what was going on. Her high-pitched giggles and the sound of his low murmurs were enough to paint a picture. I tried not to think about it as I moved to set the table. The clinking of plates and cutlery against the wooden surface was louder than I expected, almost like it was trying to drown out the scene in my head. But as I turned to grab the glasses, my eyes accidentally landed on them. Clarissa was perched on Raffael’s lap, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing his jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. His arm rested lazily around her waist, his hand splayed possessively on her lower back. I quickly looked away, but a strange discomfort settled in my chest. Why does this bother me? I shook the thought
ERICA Time seemed to tick too fast tonight. My eyes remained glued to the wall clock that hung in my cramped living room. It was already close to midnight, and yet my father still wasn’t home. It wasn’t unusual for him to come home late, but not this late. He was usually back by eleven, or ten on good days. Where is that man, for goodness' sake!? Could he still be at the bar drinking? Had he passed out somewhere? Was he safe? Had he gotten himself into another street fight? An annoyed huff left my lips as I sharply got up from the couch, pacing around the living room to clear my thoughts. The approaching footsteps of my younger sister snapped me out of my disturbing thoughts, and I quickly turned to face her. "Erica, are you still awake?" my younger sister, Lilibeth, asked, concern in her eyes as she approached me. I nodded as she embraced me, hugging me tightly. “Yeah, can’t sleep. He’s not back yet.” "Do you think he will come back tonight?" Lilibeth asked as she pull
ERICAAs I rushed down the street, my heart pounded—not from exhaustion, but from fear. A sleek black car had been trailing me for the past few blocks. At first, I thought I was just being paranoid—maybe it was just another car heading in the same direction. But after three turns, each more random than the last, it was still there. I glanced back again, trying to act casual, but my palms were already clammy.Who would be following me? My mind raced through possibilities—was it someone from work? A random creep?The car slowed down slightly as I crossed the street, its headlights washing over me like a spotlight. The feeling of being watched crawled under my skin. “Okay, Erica, breathe,” I muttered under my breath. “If it’s still there tonight, I’ll call the cops.”I picked up my pace, eager to get to work, hoping that once I stepped inside the restaurant, the world would feel a little safer. But the lingering sense of dread coiled tight in my stomach.I rushed through the crowded stre
ERICAThe room was suffocatingly silent, save for the steady thrum of my racing heart in my ears. My breath hitched as the cool metal of the gun pressed firmly against my temple, sending shivers down my spine. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t move.He stood there, the man who held the gun to my head, towering over me. His presence filled the room, sucking out the air like a storm brewing right in front of me. His suit, dark, was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders.His face was sharp, every angle chiseled to perfection, but it was his eyes that truly paralyzed me—dark, bottomless pools of rage and control, yet disturbingly calm, as if he had done this a thousand times before.Everything about him screamed power, control, violence."Oh, I must say, Thomas. I never knew you had such pretty daughters. First, I meet Lilibeth, and now I’m meeting Erica. Two beautiful girls." His voice was accented, smooth yet menacing.Who is this man? How does he know me
ERICAThe air was thick, suffocating, as I stood frozen in the middle of the room, my heart still pounding from the horrific encounter. I couldn’t seem to move. My legs felt like they had turned to lead, my arms numb by my sides.Twenty-four hours. That’s all I had to prepare myself. Twenty-four hours before I was no longer just Erica, the girl struggling to make ends meet, but Erica, the stripper, the servant. The thought made me nauseous. How had my life come to this?A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined him looming over me again, his cold fingers tracing my skin like I was some object to be toyed with.Suddenly, I heard a soft sob behind me. Lilibeth. I spun around to see her huddled against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, tears streaming down her face.“I don’t want to die, Erica,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper, her wide, terrified eyes locking with mine. “What are we going to do?”My heart broke seeing her like this. My little sister, so scared and so
ERICA The train station was louder than I expected. People bustled about, bags slung over shoulders. My heart pounded, and I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. Every stranger with a cold expression made my stomach churn. My palms were slick with sweat, gripping Lilibeth’s hand tighter than I probably should. Lilibeth, beside me, trembled, her small fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. Her eyes darted around, wide with fear. I knew she was scared—I could feel it radiating off her like heat. “We’ll be okay,” I whispered, pulling her close as we moved through the crowd. My voice was calm, even though every nerve in my body was screaming. “Once we get to Aunt Rosa’s, everything will be fine. We’ll be safe there. We can start over.” Lilibeth looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “But what about Dad? He’s all alone now. What if Raffael—” her voice wavered. I clenched my jaw, forcing down the bitterness. “Dad can take care of himself
ERICA I sat in tense silence, gripping the fabric of my dress, now stained with dirt and sand. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest, it felt as if the whole world could hear its frantic beat. I tried to ignore the incessant thumping of my heart and focus on the world outside the car, the bustling streets that overflowed with life, a blend of movement, color, and sound at every corner. But it was of no use as long as that monster sat next to me. I took side glances of him, trying so hard not to make it obvious.Raffael sat a few seats away, his cold presence suffocating the space between us. He looked utterly formidable—maniacal and ruthless, exuding a terrifying sense of control.How could my father do this to me? To Lilibeth? Now I’ve been sold off to this man against my will to clear up a debt I never knew off. It all felt like a terrible nightmare to me, one I badly wanted to wake up from. My fingernails sank into my skin, leaving behind marks and cuts as we drove further
ERICA The kitchen was filled with the sizzling aroma of bacon, eggs, and toast. I had only intended to prepare a simple breakfast, but the smell of everything cooking made it feel like much more. Every few moments, I glanced at the digital clock on the wall, racing against time to get breakfast ready as early as possible. Sometimes, it felt surreal—like a bad dream I could not wake up from. This was what my life had come to: a maid and a stripper. And Lilibeth, locked away in some villa, treated like a prisoner. Honestly, it felt like things couldn’t get any worse. Yesterday, Romano gave me a tour of the mansion, and I had to admit—it was even more luxurious than I had ever imagined. In the backyard, a large pool sparkled in the sunlight, surrounded by comfortable lounge chairs and palm trees. The backyard stretched far, with a fountain in the center and a perfectly manicured lawn that seemed to go on forever. Since I had only arrived last evening and had not fully settled in yet
ERICA I stood in the kitchen, my hands busy chopping vegetables for the salad, while my mind wandered elsewhere. The house was eerily quiet except for the faint sound of laughter coming from the living room. Raffael and Clarissa. I didn’t need to peek around the corner to know what was going on. Her high-pitched giggles and the sound of his low murmurs were enough to paint a picture. I tried not to think about it as I moved to set the table. The clinking of plates and cutlery against the wooden surface was louder than I expected, almost like it was trying to drown out the scene in my head. But as I turned to grab the glasses, my eyes accidentally landed on them. Clarissa was perched on Raffael’s lap, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing his jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. His arm rested lazily around her waist, his hand splayed possessively on her lower back. I quickly looked away, but a strange discomfort settled in my chest. Why does this bother me? I shook the thought
ERICA I woke up to a pounding headache and the faint smell of something unfamiliar—leather? It took a moment for my blurry eyes to adjust to the dim light streaming through my bedroom window. The ache in my head deepened as I sat up, but the sight that greeted me froze me mid-motion. Raffael. He was seated in the armchair next to my bed, his legs crossed, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t just here; he was staring at me, like he’d been waiting for me to wake up. “What the…” I croaked, my voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?” “Good morning to you too,” he replied, his tone clipped. “You don’t remember?” My mind raced, the throbbing in my head making it harder to think. “Remember what?” Raffael stood, his imposing figure towering over me as he walked to the side of the bed. “Last night. You don’t remember anything?” And just like that, the memories slammed into me like a freight train. Running down the dark alley, the thugs chasing me. The pizza. Sitting in the m
RAFFAEL I led Erica into the restaurant, a modest, late-night pizza joint that smelled of melted cheese and warm dough. The kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. She stumbled slightly as we stepped inside, her fingers gripping my arm tighter than I expected. “Easy there,” I muttered, steadying her. “You’re not exactly graceful right now.” She tilted her head back to look at me, her lips pulling into a lopsided smile. “Oh, come on, Raffael. Where’s your sense of fun? Live a little.” “I am living. I just prefer to do it without making a scene.” She rolled her eyes and let go of my arm, staggering toward an empty table. “You’re no fun. And you think I’m the problem.” I sighed, following her to the table. She plopped down unceremoniously, resting her elbows on the surface and staring at the laminated menu like it held the secrets to the universe. “Do they have pizza with extra cheese?” she asked, her voice suddenly serious. “It’s a pizza place. Of course,
RAFFAEL I slowed the car, eyes narrowing as a figure suddenly darted into the road ahead, illuminated by my headlights. My heart lurched, and I slammed the brakes, tires screeching. “What the—” I growled, gripping the wheel as the car came to a jerking halt. The figure froze, then stumbled forward, their arms flailing for balance. My stomach knotted when I realized who it was. Erica. She turned, wide-eyed, her face pale under the harsh beam of my headlights. I heard her shriek in fear, shielding her face with one arm as if that would stop the car. Before I could process her idiocy, movement caught my eye—several shadows emerging from the alley behind her. Men, closing in fast. “Dio mio,” I muttered under my breath. My instincts flared, and I shoved the door open, stepping out into the cold night air. “Erica!” I barked, my voice slicing through the stillness like a blade. Her gaze darted toward me, her expression a strange mix of fear and relief. “Raffael…” she bre
ERICA The thumping bass vibrated through my body as I stepped onto the stage. The lights flashed, blinding me momentarily, but I kept my eyes focused on the pole in front of me. I spun, my heels clicking sharply against the floor, trying to block out the crowd, pretending I wasn’t there at all. But then, I noticed him. A man in the corner of the room. He was big, covered in tattoos, piercings glinting in the harsh lights. His eyes were dark, almost unnervingly so, and they were locked on me, like he was trying to peel me open, read me. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching me too closely. When my routine ended, he waved me over, his hand beckoning like I was his to command. “Come join me darling.” He rasped. I hesitated for a moment, which elicited a scowl on his face, “Oh do you think I can’t afford a cheap slut like you?” Gulping down my uneasiness, I then forced my legs to carry me toward him. I sat down next to him, feeling the weight of his gaze press against
RAFFAEL The room felt suffocating, the air thick with the smell of stale cigars and frustration. I sat at the head of the long table, watching my capos argue like children fighting over scraps. Their voices blurred into a droning buzz, each word chipping away at my patience. Marco, my eldest and most level-headed capo, leaned forward, stabbing a finger on the map spread across the table. “This isn’t just one shipment, Raffael. It’s three. Someone’s hijacking our goods and selling them before they even hit the shore.” Luca nodded, his dark eyes narrowed. “We have reason to believe they’re getting help from someone inside the port authority. If we don’t act—” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to focus, but it was like my brain had short-circuited. My thoughts kept drifting to her. Erica. Why her? Why now? I clenched my fists under the table, the memory of her defiance flashing in my mind. No woman had ever looked me in the eye the way she did, like she didn’t care who
Erica’s POV The silence in the kitchen felt suffocating after Raffael’s mother stormed out, leaving me shaken. My hands trembled as I scrubbed at an already clean countertop, trying to focus on anything other than the memory of the juice spilling over my dress and her cruel words. "Gold digger," she’d called me. As if I’d chosen this life. As if I wanted to be here. I didn’t notice Raffael until he was standing in the doorway, his tall figure casting a shadow across the room. My heart sank at the sight of him. His expression was dark, his jaw set tight. I could see the tension rolling off him like a thunderstorm about to break. “Erica,” he said sharply, his voice clipped. I froze, clutching the rag in my hand like a lifeline. “Yes, sir?” His eyes narrowed at my tone, the formal distance I always tried to maintain. “Drop the act,” he said, stepping further into the room. “I just had to listen to my mother rant about you for what seemed like an eternity, and I’m not in the moo
RAFFAEL I watched my mother’s car pull up from the window, her elegant figure stepping out in that tailored suit she always wore like armor. “What is she even doing here?” I whispered to myself. She looked as though she were heading into battle, and in a way, I knew she was. “Erica,” I called out to her she was already there in the living room, “My mum is on her way here. Be on your best behavior and address her as Mrs. Greco” “Yes sir.” Erica nodded. I face palmed myself as I leaned back unto the chair. My mother rarely paid me visits but whenever she did, it always came with some form of nagging which irked the hell out of me. The door opened with a sharp push which almost startled Erica. With a quiet greeting on her lips, she had her head slightly bowed as if she knew not to expect a warm response. “Good morning, Mrs Greco,” Erica said softly. But my mother barely glanced at her, walking straight past as if Erica were invisible. She headed directly toward me, her gaze
ERICA I was scrubbing down the living room floor, the smell of lemon cleaner filling the air as I worked, when I heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the tile. I looked up to see Clarissa walking in, her designer bag slung over her shoulder and a smug expression on her face. She stopped in the doorway, her gaze flicking over me with barely concealed distaste. “Where’s Raffael?” she asked, her tone sharp, as if my presence alone was an inconvenience. I straightened, gripping the cleaning cloth in my hand. “He’s not here right now. I think he had some business to take care of,” I replied as politely as I could manage. Clarissa’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she let out a sigh that seemed half disappointment, half irritation. “Of course. Always leaving things for me to deal with.” She dropped her bag onto a chair and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll wait,” she announced, as if I’d had a choice in the matter. I watched her rummage through the fridge, eventually