Bound to the Mafia King

The city's noise returned, swallowing everything in its path as the workday bled into dusk.

I sank deeper into my chair, letting the low hum of exhausted footsteps blur around me. Another day gone. Another evening looming.

My phone vibrated against the desk—her number flashing.

I exhaled, slow and heavy, and pressed the answer button without energy. I barely had time to open my mouth before her voice crashed through the speaker, loud and dramatic.

"Rina! You don't love me anymore!"

A sigh left me as I pulled the phone away from my ear, the shrillness stabbing my temple.

"No, Zoe," I muttered, half smiling despite myself, my voice trailing with resignation. "But life… life got in the way. What can we do?"

Laughter poured from her, bright and unrepentant, mingling with the chaotic noise in the background—music, voices, something like clinking glasses.

Then came her playful purr, laced with the mischief I knew too well.

"I know exactly what we'll do. Tonight—there's a masquerade ball. At one of my father's associates' estates. We were invited, and Daddy's insisting I go."

Her voice dipped lower, teasing, curling like smoke.

"Of course, I'm not going alone."

My eyes closed for a moment, the familiar dread coiling in my chest.

"Zoe…"

But she was faster, her voice softening with deliberate sweetness.

"Please, Rina… you know I can't deal with men. And you're the only one who makes me feel at ease."

That guilt twisted just as it always did. I knew I'd already lost.

I exhaled, defeated. "Fine. What time?"

Her excitement crackled through the line.

"I'll send the driver at 8:45 sharp!"

My reply came out flat, already exhausted by the idea.

"Alright. I'll see you tonight."

"You're the best friend in the world!" she squealed before ending the call, leaving me alone in the fading light.

I stared at the blank screen for a beat longer, then returned to the last dull remnants of my work, my heart already dragging toward the inevitable.

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

Night had fallen, cool and sharp, turning the city into mirrors of glass and shadow.

I boarded the train, finding my seat by the window, my reflection staring back at me—tired, pale, unfamiliar. I watched as the streets blurred past, a world slipping away.

By the time I reached my apartment, my body felt too heavy to carry.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of dust and faint perfume greeting me.

I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall wherever it wished, then tossed my bag onto the couch.

My heels came off next—merciless prisons I kicked away with relief. The wooden floor felt cold, but soothing.

Still in my blouse and skirt, I wandered toward the kitchen, silence pressing close.

The fridge offered nothing but bland leftovers. I grabbed some pasta, shoved it into the microwave, and poured myself orange juice.

I ate without tasting, flipping through the channels—until a voice from the news caught my attention.

"Another brutal murder occurred last night. An entire family, slaughtered by five bullets. Only their four-year-old son survived, miraculously—he had been asleep inside the wardrobe, unaware of the horror outside."

I froze, the spoon slipping from my fingers as I stared at the screen.

There he was—a small boy with ash-blonde hair, staring ahead with vacant, shattered eyes. His face was pale, his lips trembling as he clung to a teddy bear too large for his tiny arms.

Something broke inside me.

I whispered, my throat tight and dry, the bitterness of the orange juice lingering on my tongue.

"I hope he keeps living… and grows strong enough to survive this world."

I turned off the TV, letting the room fall into darkness again, sitting there in the quiet.

And I wondered, with a weight like lead in my chest… how many souls are quietly shattered, forced to walk through life bearing scars no one can see?

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

It was nearing nine when the car arrived—sleek, black, and dripping with luxury, its glossy surface reflecting the golden lamps lining the mansion gates.

The mansion itself loomed, vast and unapologetic, its white stone glowing like bone beneath the night sky. The iron gates stood like sentinels, guarding whatever secrets waited inside.

I stepped out, my heels meeting the cobblestone with a soft click.

My gown—black, long, elegantly slit at the thigh—flowed with every step, the fabric whispering against my skin.

My golden hair shimmered beneath the soft lights, cascading freely over my bare shoulders, catching every glimmer.

Inside, the air was thick with expensive perfume and something darker—something ancient.

Classical music swept through the grand hall, violins sighing through the towering ceilings as guests glided across the polished marble floor, their masks hiding everything but their hunger.

I moved through them like a ghost, invisible but watching, the weight of a hundred eyes slipping over me.

I whispered inwardly, the words laced with unease.

"It's like stepping into another century… into someone else's dream."

I felt the need to retreat before facing them fully—to fix my makeup, to gather myself.

I approached one of the servants, his face polite but distant, and quietly asked for the restroom.

He gestured toward a grand staircase that curled upward like a spine carved from ivory.

I thanked him with a nod, ascending slowly, my feet sinking into the thick crimson carpet that muffled every step.

The second floor stretched out before me, a long, dim hallway lined with towering wooden doors, their gold engravings glowing faintly in the low light.

It felt too quiet here, too perfect—like a place meant to trap.

I walked slowly, my fingertips grazing the cold, polished wood as I passed door after door… until one caught me.

It was tucked in the far corner, slightly ajar, as if waiting.

I didn't know why, but something pulled me toward it.

I pushed it open gently… and slipped inside.

✦ ✦ ✦

Everything was black.

Black walls, black curtains, black velvet drapes, black marble floors.

But this wasn't darkness.

It was elegance. Power. A room belonging to a man who ruled shadows.

I whispered to myself, my voice no more than a breath.

"Just fix the makeup… and leave."

I moved between the furniture—heavy, expensive, commanding—toward the door I assumed led to the bathroom.

Before I could touch it… it swung open.

I froze.

A man emerged from the steam, every line of him carved from heat and water.

His hair was wet, the jet-black strands falling over his forehead, dripping onto his skin.

His eyes… cold, searing blue, glowing in the dimness like distant stars drowning in the sea.

He was bare-chested, a single dark towel wrapped low around his hips, water still trailing down his sculpted torso.

And there, across his chest, coiled a tattoo—two serpents locked in battle, their bodies entwined above his heart, their fangs almost sinking into each other.

I gasped, stumbling back, but the heel of my shoe caught on the hem of my dress.

I fell hard, collapsing at his feet, my breath ripped from me.

He stared down at me, unmoving, his gaze sharp as a blade, voice a low hum of iron.

"Who are you?"

I couldn't answer—my voice trapped somewhere between my ribs and my throat, my pulse hammering wildly.

He tilted his head, studying me as if I were a particularly dull problem, his next words colder, laced with contempt.

"Let me guess… another one of Raine's whores? I told him—I'm not in the mood tonight."

The insult lit a fire inside me—instant, furious.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the sting in my ankle, my hands shaking.

Without thinking, I slapped him. Hard.

The sound cracked through the air like thunder.

His head snapped slightly to the side. He froze, his hand slowly rising to touch his cheek, eyes wide with something unreadable.

I hissed, my voice tight and burning.

"I'm not one of your whores."

I turned sharply, swallowing every tremor in my body, heading for the door.

But his voice followed, cold, amused, sharp enough to slice through my spine.

"And you planning to return to the party… like that?"

I stopped, heart pounding, and turned slowly, my glare filled with confusion.

His lips curved into a cruel smile, and he lazily pointed toward me.

I looked down.

And froze.

The back of my gown—completely torn.

My heart plummeted.

Cold air slid across my bare skin, and I couldn't breathe.

Behind me, I heard his low, amused voice, silk laced with iron.

"Now," he murmured, his tone almost a purr, "that's quite a sight."

My hands trembled. I needed to escape—but my feet wouldn't move.