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 With shaky hands and an anxious heart, I set the tray of toast and the coffee pot on the dining table, my heart beating rapidly with every second that ticked by. Raffael, who already had a scowl drawn on his face, watched me closely. I could feel his piercing gaze on me, but I dared not connect my eyes to his. I could tell he was angry; he didn’t even need to say it. His jaws were clenched so tightly that they could slice through the air itself. Opposite him, Clarissa sat, obviously enjoying the tension simmering in the air, an impudent smile coating her face. I turned to leave when Raffael’s hoarse voice called me back, “Erica.” Timidly, I spun around. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “What time is it?” he calmly asked, his face suddenly void of any emotion. I took a side glance at the wall clock and swallowed the lump in my throat. It was already 8:30. “8:30, sir,” I muttered under my breath. “And when did I say breakfast must be ready? Huh?” The words rolled out of
ERICA With each step I took into the dimly lit room, my heart raced like a runaway train. The club was alive with flashing lights, loud music, and the scent of alcohol and sweat. The heavy bass vibrated through my chest, but it couldn’t drown out the anxiety roaring inside me. I felt naked, though I wasn’t fully bare—just barely covered in thin straps of lace that left very little to the imagination. My legs felt like jelly as I made my way to the center of the room, trying to ignore the way the men's eyes followed me, drinking in every inch of my exposed skin. I hated how I felt so vulnerable, so out of place. But I didn’t have a choice. Not when he had my life—and my sister’s—tied up in his hands. Swallowing my nerves, I took my place on the stage, gripping the pole as if it were the only thing keeping me standing. The music shifted into a sultry rhythm, and I forced myself to move. My hips swayed, my hands running over my body. A shiver ran down my spine as I spun around the po
Clarissa’s heels clicked against the marble floor of the club's hallway as she moved with purpose, her lips twisted into a sly smile. Erica had dared to slap on of Raffael’s top client and now she had gotten the opportunity she was waiting for, the opportunity to remind Raffael that Erica was nothing but a liability. Spotting Ray, the club manager, slumped against the bar, she approached him, voice dripping with practiced concern. “Ray,” she said softly, touching his arm. He looked up, his face still flushed with embarrassment and anger. “I’m sorry for what happened not too long ago. Raffael will definitely think you are being incompetent in handling his club and his clients” “Exactly. How can I tell Raffael that we just lost some of our top patronizers because of that new girl? I’d be done for! I’d loose my job” Ray groaned in frustration. Clarissa replied with a dramatic sigh, “I warned Raffael about her lack of professionalism, but he didn’t listen. He actually seemed… fond
RAFFAEL The air in my office was thick with tension, punctuated by the heavy footsteps of Darion as he paced back and forth, his frustration palpable. He was seething, and I knew that what had transpired at the club few days ago was eating away at him. I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, waiting for him to tire himself out. He was a hothead on a good day, but after Erica slapped him, I could feel the storm brewing. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?” Darion snapped, halting in front of me, his face flushed. “I can’t believe you let that little bitch slap me and didn’t do a damn thing about it!” “What would you want me to do? Kill her?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Send that damn thing out of the club! Fire her!” He snapped. “Fire her? Because she slapped you? That girl owes me a huge sum of money. She ain’t leaving until she pays back every dime” I responded, trying so hard to manage my growing annoyance at the way Darion was fussing like a c
ERICA Ever since my encounter with Raffael few days ago, it’s been a mental torture for me. We’ve been stumbling into the each other in the house. It was like he was everywhere I went. In the kitchen, garden, laundry room, store room, garage, the list could go on and on. And with every meet, his stare lingered a bit too long on me, dark and coated with disgust like I was covered in shit. And Clarissa? She never spared a minute to make my life miserable whenever she was around. I pushed open the door to Raffael’s room with a soft knock, carrying a bucket and a mop to clean the tiled floors. I had not expected anyone to be inside, so I didn’t glance up until I heard his voice—a low, irritated murmur. “Do you not knock, Erica?” My head snapped up, and my breath caught. Raffael stood by the mirror, half-dressed, his shirt hanging open. He was close enough that I could see the dampness in his dark hair, the slight glisten of water on his chest, and I froze, caught between the
ERICA It felt like time had frozen. The sound of the door opening behind me made my heart stop, and I turned just in time to see Clarissa’s face twisted with fury. Her eyes darted between Raffael and me, narrowing as if she had stumbled upon the greatest betrayal. “What’s going on here?” Her voice was sharp, slicing through the air. I quickly stood up and stepped back. Raffael didn’t answer at first, his face unreadable as he continued to watch me with that same piercing intensity. “Oh so suddenly every one is mute? Damn! What the hell is going on here?!” Clarissa yelled. My mind raced, thinking of an explanation to cover up the comprising situation I had found myself in. Because I knew what this meant for me—Clarissa would intensify her actions in making my life here unbearable. But would she believe me if I told her Raffael made me do it? What if he denied it? It was his word against mine! “Amore Mio, you should have informed me before coming” Raffael flashed Claris
ERICA I quickly pulled on my casual clothes—a flowery gown and a jacket—dressing as fast as I could so I could leave the club. It was already six in the morning, and I needed to get home to prepare breakfast for Raffael. And probably Clarissa, if she was around. Just the thought of going back to that house sent chills down my spine. It was luxurious but felt like a nightmare to live in. The sting of Clarissa’s slap yesterday was still fresh in my mind. She despises me because of Raffael, and he only makes things worse, complicating everything for me. If Raffael hadn’t stepped in, I dreaded to think what would’ve happened to my face. I took a deep breath, hung my bag over my shoulder, and gazed at myself in the mirror. My thoughts drifted to memories of my mother when she was still alive. Life was good back then. I was a simple young girl who adored her parents. My mother was pregnant with Lilibeth, and my father hadn’t become the monster he is now. Now, life has shown me
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