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2024-10-29 19:42:569 hours and she still hadn't finished her work. Sam sighed cleaning her desk as she looked at the clock on the opposite wall. She was trapped in the room. Why did she have to cover for her brother? She frowned and snorted. She now herself she could she be outside with the rest of the people celebrating.
What were they celebrating again?
- It's quiet tonight, isn't it?- Sandra asked as she opened the door.- I don't know, I'm not even meant to be here right now, but I said I'd cover for it after he did me a favor last night.
- What a mistake, why didn't you take any of the other shifts he has?
- I couldn't, he doesn't have any convenient shift and so I can't write- she sighed, frowning at the clock again, she should have fun tonight.
- Is everyone out tonight?
- So it seems- she pouted and dropped the manuscript he was holding.
- Do you want a neck massage?
- PleRelated chapters
The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
-Please!-Not.-Please!.-Not.-Come on mom. Please.-I have said no.-You're boring.-YesSamantha frowns at the two dwarfs who shoot her hateful glances.-I do not care. You can look at me however you want.-Papa would let us go.-Yes.-Well, it's too bad that dad isn't there -announces she looking out the window with concern.-It's just a little snow- says her eldest five-year-old son, pulling her out of the window. She is not going to happen anything. Stop worrying and let us come out and play.Sam looks at him annoyed. The damn brat could read her like an open book, just like her father.-Now he is falling very hard. In a little while, when it stops snowing.-When it stops snowing the snow will disappear! The boy growls.-Bored- the girl shouts again.-Yes. A horrible and hateful boring –Sam answers, taking the little over a two-year-old girl in he
The mobster and the writer 1
My Valentine's date was called Acer. It was red. Beautiful.We met through my brother just on my birthday and since then we have not separated. He was the most incredible thing in this world, he loved everything I threw at him, which was quite a lot, and he didn't complain that he had to work hard because he was always by my side. He didn't bother if I wanted to spend the whole afternoon lying on the couch watching Gossip Girl with him. He didn't care about anything. It was almost perfect. Almost, because I always needed a cable or a battery. He was very dependent on them. Yeah, well, my Valentine's date was my laptop, and our plan was for me to make some progress on the romance novel that I had to deliver at the end of the month. The life of a romantic writer is not easy and in my case, it was not even romantic.My name is Samantha, if, as the protagonist of the Bewitched series, my mother was a big fan and hence my name. I walk my brother was somewhere in the c
The mobster and the writer 2
What if they were the sex slave type? I started hyperventilating, imagining the life I was going to have to lead from now on, and without realizing it I started crying. He threw me on the couch and I fell bouncing sideways, causing Salem to come out and utter my tears. He liked salt. I thought maybe he was just going to rob me and now that he had seen it he would have to kill me. Who would expect someone to be in my house on Valentine's Day? If he killed me, who would take care of Salem? Rob? I started thinking about Rob my brother. Without me I would have no one to call every day in the afternoon, nor would I have a cook on weekendsBefore I could begin to beg for my life, my abductor shoved something into my mouth. Poison. My eyes widened and I began to shake until an unexpected taste began to flow through my mouth. Could be...? It was...? I had scooped ice cream into myself. I stared at him without understanding anything.- You are a very annoying cutie. I'm not goi
The mobster and the writer 3
And the door to my apartment opened. Shit. I didn't even look up, lest I think it was an act of rebellion or something like that. I did not want to be tortured, I liked all my fingers and my skin was marked very easily. I didn't want souvenir bruises, thanks. Against all my principles, I stood still with my head down. Submissive, so I trembled because the only sound that had warned me of his presence was that of his soldier boots that echoed in my ears like the detonation of a bomb. I braced myself for the worst, for a kick or a punch. Without realizing it, I began to cry silently, all the waiting was killing what few nerves I had left. Without even speaking, he was killing me. I heard another sound, cloth slipping, wrinkling. A hand touched my face and lifted my chin.- Hello - A deep and kind voice told me. His breath was soft and warm. Was nice. I opened my eyes almost out of inertia.- Oh - It was the only thing I could mutter before seeing myself caught my e
The mobster and the writer 4
We finally came to a black SUV. I would swear I fell in love with that car then. It was the car of my dreams. As a child, I had wanted a car like that, which would make other drivers look at me in amazement and with respect. I imagined myself in there, smirking and wearing Hunter's glasses ... Okay, yes, Hunter's, which would be in the glove compartment and we would both share. My imagination has no limits.Hunter entered the back with me, not speaking to me and not allowing G to sit next to me. I thanked him silently in two thousand different ways. It hadn't crossed my mind that G wasn't aware of our positions, because when he saw us he narrowed his eyes and shook his head.- It's your car, Hunter. You should drive - He leaned against the door. What a mania this man had for leaning on the edges of doors!- I'm afraid of leaving Samantha by your side. You could gag her and tie her up like a sack of potatoes. I think he deserves a break from your company an
The mobster and the writer 5
- I like it- He shrugged- I like different things- The last thing was directed at me and I will send it myself.Did he like it? Was I different? Was this man sane?G ignored him and sat on the couch, stretching out full length and yawning the way a bear would. It was a great distraction. Seeing him like that made me laugh. The tender vein came out at that moment. He looked tired and vulnerable. He was not as scary as before and he looked younger as if he had removed a giant mask. It was nice to see him as an ordinary human being, not as a mob killing machine (if he killed because I had only taken one bullet from him). Hunter was lost somewhere and I had work to do, so I sat down by an outlet on the floor and turned on my laptop. The story wasn't going to end on its own and I didn't feel like hearing my editor yelling at me like crazy for being late with the delivery. I was almost always late. My followers were more
The mobster and the writer 6
Don't even take my things. Not my laptop. Nothing. I wanted to get out so badly that I didn't think I was leaving important things behind. I just knew I had to get away fast before Hunter caught me. Just as I opened the door, a wall came in, crashing into me and throwing me backward. I landed on my ass with a groan. That had hurt. I must have broken my sacrum. I leaned on my hands and got up like a small child.Who else would it be? The idiot was watching me from the door with a grimace much like a smirk on his face. I hated it. Every second that passed I swear I hated him a little more. His eyes seemed n sizzle with excitement insulting enough for me: Fun. I swear I was going to kill that kid. Sooner or later he was going to kill him sleeping.- Where are you going, cutie?- He raised an eyebrow style: There is no excuse that will be valid, but I want to see you say nonsense yes.-Far from you crazy killers. - I kicked in the crotch l style angels of Charl
The mobster and the writer 7
Cami took me on a motorcycle.Motorcycle? Since when did girls like Cami ride motorcycles?Maybe before I didn't make it very clear what Cami was like. She was tall. Much taller than me. She had a very good figure, that is, she was good. Point. Next to him, I looked like the garbage you remove from your feet when you wear sandals in summer. He had an especially pretty and smiling face. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves that looked like they were made by a professional hairdresser. I wondered if he could fix my head nest. Shook my head. He was a hairdresser, not a sorcerer. His eyes were not quite blue but seemed to mix with a light gray. In front of me, I had a model girl. Those girls don't like motorcycles. Pink car hits them.Me and my precious prejudices.He handed me a helmet and I raised my eyebrows. A black helmet with patterned flames was what I leas
Latest chapter
The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
-Please!-Not.-Please!.-Not.-Come on mom. Please.-I have said no.-You're boring.-YesSamantha frowns at the two dwarfs who shoot her hateful glances.-I do not care. You can look at me however you want.-Papa would let us go.-Yes.-Well, it's too bad that dad isn't there -announces she looking out the window with concern.-It's just a little snow- says her eldest five-year-old son, pulling her out of the window. She is not going to happen anything. Stop worrying and let us come out and play.Sam looks at him annoyed. The damn brat could read her like an open book, just like her father.-Now he is falling very hard. In a little while, when it stops snowing.-When it stops snowing the snow will disappear! The boy growls.-Bored- the girl shouts again.-Yes. A horrible and hateful boring –Sam answers, taking the little over a two-year-old girl in he
The mobster and the writer Special chapter
9 hours and she still hadn't finished her work. Sam sighed cleaning her desk as she looked at the clock on the opposite wall. She was trapped in the room. Why did she have to cover for her brother? She frowned and snorted. She now herself she could she be outside with the rest of the people celebrating.What were they celebrating again?- It's quiet tonight, isn't it?- Sandra asked as she opened the door.- I don't know, I'm not even meant to be here right now, but I said I'd cover for it after he did me a favor last night.- What a mistake, why didn't you take any of the other shifts he has?- I couldn't, he doesn't have any convenient shift and so I can't write- she sighed, frowning at the clock again, she should have fun tonight.- Is everyone out tonight?- So it seems- she pouted and dropped the manuscript he was holding.- Do you want a neck massage?- Ple
The mobster and the writer Epilogue
-Get off you heavy- I pushed his shoulder, but he didn't move his head from the crook of my neck. I was trying to read the laptop screen that I greedily kept covered as much as possible with my hands, which isn't much. -I want to see what blasphemies you are putting on me- He answered and caught my hands in his. I made the feint to fight, but I knew it was impossible, he always got what he wanted, especially if it was from me- Let's see ...- He began to read and I amused myself looking at his gestures. He knew from each of them what he was reading. I knew him too well- You are an exaggeration!- He widened his eyes - That was not what happened. –He protested. He always had a complaint between his lips. -Tell me. Tell me what I have written that is a lie. All that happened and you know it- I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms under my chest, leaning back against my desk chair. My supposedly scary attitude only made him smile in amusement. -Many things are tru
The mobster and the writer The end
I don't know what I expected to find when I got to that party. Something more hidden, I suppose, but not in my stupidest dreams did I expect a giant hotel with a red carpet to be the hangout for the bad guys in the mob. It was not logical. They were in the crosshairs of the police. If something was clear to him, it was that they liked to live on the edge, letting themselves be seen but being untouchable by nothing or anyone. It was part of the adrenaline of work, the one that seemed to like so much to all the men of that world. I got out of that overly ostentatious limo on Derek's arm. There was nothing that disgusted me more at the time. I'd rather have dated Kyle, but unfortunately, he wasn't my date tonight. I wish it had been. He had to be content with watching our backs as we walked towards the entrance. Although I had to keep a bright smile, I could barely force myself to stretch the muscles around my lips. That gesture bothered me. It was a fucking lie. He couldn't pr
The mobster and the writer 33
I yawned and tried to get out of my room without making a noise. Kyle had expressly asked me to go to the gym without anyone noticing. Derek had something planned for both of them and no one could find out. I figured Johnny was one of the reasons. He was a little more protective of me lately. We had started to be "something". None of them had raised the subject for conversation, but we knew that we had started some kind of relationship, the problem was that it was not clear what he wanted. I changed into my black leggings and a long gray sweatshirt. He didn't know why it was so cold in the Den at night. They used to keep my room at a more or less stable temperature, but it was going out into the hall and feeling the cold digging like knives into your skin. It seemed that he had reached the Arctic Circle. I looked to the right and left. I saw no one. Maybe they were, but the lack of light didn't help me to see if someone was following my steps. My march was light and fast. He
The mobster and the writer 32
-Take a deep breath and speak like a normal human being, Sam- He instructed me from his bed, without removing the brown book he always read. It had to be the never-ending story because I'd swear I never changed books.-Derek follows me. They have me under surveillance. –I whispered in case the aforementioned was in the vicinity listening. I couldn't risk him finding out that I knew.-Derek? I don't believe it- He didn't even deign to look at me.And the worst thing was that I considered him my best friend in the hole he was in.–Well, don't believe me. I am telling you the truth- I crossed my arms angrily. Why was it so hard to believe me? He wasn't going to lie to her about something like that. It would not benefit me to invent it. I was being an unbeliever.-So, according to you, Derek wants to kill you and that's why he follows you everywhere, to catch you when you least expect them and annihilate you. That would mean that you are hi
The mobster and the writer 31
After all the paraphernalia put out for the mission, the atmosphere seemed dull. Each person was depressed from lack of action. The only one who was relieved that it was over was me. Johnny disappeared as soon as we got to "The lair", as he had ended up calling the place where they held me semi-prisoner. Mike went back to his chaperone-counselor-shoulder position to cry on. I spent a bit of it. I didn't trust him too much after his false promise that he would protect me when they gave me a nice beating later. He wasn't very trustworthy. He took my silences as spaces that he had to fill with his insubstantial monologues that to me, personally speaking, could not matter less. It was a continuous stream of words that flowed in and out of my ears without even being registered by my brain. - ... Then Kyle started laughing while Paul scooped up all the beer he had spilled when they made a touchdown. It was fun to see him on his knees with a napkin trying to dry the floor. When he
The mobster and the writer 30
The best started when our "mission" ended if you could call that. I hadn't done anything except get in trouble, but nobody knew that last, nor was anyone going to know. How could I explain to anyone that I already knew Hunter from before and not connect with his mob? And they had marked me as innocent and I was not going to discover myself. It was better than this episode was forgotten. If she started thinking about Hunter, she would end up returning to the topic she was trying to avoid anyway.Johnny seemed to have completely forgotten that another man had been with me. He was busy enough watching the islets of the slot machines move. I was almost hypnotized. He defended himself saying that the money was given to him by the mafia and that we could do whatever we wanted with it. As long as it was free, he didn't care at all. He was a man with a physique and personality that reminded me so much of G. Why couldn't I get it out of my head without any remorse? Many women dated me
The mobster and the writer 29
-Kyle?- I muttered yawning. -What are you doing here?-I was looking for you. He didn't take his eyes off the screen- I imagined you were nervous and wanted to calm you down a bit.Didn't Kyle have a heart of stone?-I could not sleep- I got up and sat next to him, stretching my arms.–It happened to me at the time too and I felt like you. I figured it would reassure you to talk to someone and that someone had to be me.-Thanks. –I couldn't help it and I ended up hugging him.In the end, it was going to turn out not to be so bad.I ended up resting my head on his shoulder and falling asleep again, feeling a little better and more sure of myself. If I had gotten Kyle to behave like an ordinary human being, I could do anything, including surviving my first day on the job.And day zero arrived, as it was called in the corridors. The day the "new" was rel
