Sold To The Mafia King

Chapter 1: Pouring on the charm

I walked aimlessly down the street, not really paying attention to where I was going. My mind was spinning with everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. It all felt like a cruel nightmare, but the duffel bag slung over my shoulder was a painful reminder that it was a harsh reality.

Dmitri, my boyfriend of two years, had dumped me so suddenly and callously. One moment we were making dinner plans for the weekend, and the next he was screaming at me to get out. The look of cold disdain in his eyes as he handed me the check will haunt me forever. I gave him everything—my love, my trust, and my body. And he threw it all away, all for that whore who stood by his side with the most disgusting smirk I wanted to wipe off so badly.

I stumbled upon a park and collapsed onto a bench, succumbing to the torrent of tears I’d been holding back. My sobs echoed through the empty place as darkness fell. How could he do this to me? What had I done so wrong to make him stop caring? These questions swirled in my mind, taunting me with their unanswered misery.

The streetlights flickered on one by one, jolting me from my daze. I needed to find shelter for the night but had nowhere to turn. Dmitri cut me off from our shared friends, not wanting me to “tarnish” his reputation. My parents were dead to me, and I had no other family. That’s when I remembered Emercyn from my part-time job at the coffee shop.

She was the only person I could think to call. Emercyn answered on the first ring, concern evident in her voice when I told her what happened through choked tears. “Don’t move, I’m coming to get you,” she said gently but firmly. My mind swirled at how easily I was going to be manipulated. It was all in front of me, but I was too blinded to see it. He made me get a part-time job, and he allowed his ‘best friend’, aka his whore, Sheila, to work as an accountant in his company.

Emercyn arrived within half an hour, folding me into a comforting hug. She drove me back to her tiny apartment, letting me crash on her couch with a blanket and pillow. I must have cried myself to sleep from sheer emotional exhaustion. The next morning, she made me tea and toast, forcing me to eat something despite my lack of appetite. Over breakfast, she told me I could stay with her as long as I needed to get back on my feet. I was so thankful for her kindness.

After clearing away the dishes, Emercyn brought up the elephant in the room. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do now?” she asked hesitantly. I shook my head dejectedly, overwhelmed just thinking about the future. She placed a reassuring hand on mine. “A friend of mine told me about an exclusive bartender gig that pays really well. I think you should check it out,” she suggested.

I sighed, knowing I needed to find work fast if I wanted to stay afloat. Maybe bartending wouldn’t be so bad as a temporary solution. At this point, I was ready to try anything. “Do you have the details?” I inquired halfheartedly. Emercyn beamed, glad I was open to the opportunity, and scribbled down an address on a scrap of paper.

“They said to just show up tonight after 9. Wear something nice but comfortable. I really think this could be great for you,” she encouraged with a smile. I forced one in return, touched by her efforts to lift my spirits. After chatting for a little while longer, Emercyn had to leave for her day job at the bookstore.

Alone with my thoughts once more, I started to get dressed in one of my only semiformal outfits - a black pencil skirt and silky blouse. My makeup and hair took much longer than usual to do, mainly because my hands were still shaking from nerves and leftover anguish. By the time I deemed myself presentable, it was nearing 9 pm.

I took a deep breath before exiting Emercyn’s building into the chilly night. Following her directions, I walked the few blocks to an inconspicuous door tucked between two stores. There were no signs advertising the establishment within. Frowning in confusion, I thought perhaps I had the wrong address. Just then, the door swung open, startling me.

A tall, bald man in a sharp suit peered down at me impassively. “Name?” he grunted gruffly. “I-Isadora Cortez,” I stammered, intimidated by his hulking presence. He glanced at a clipboard before nodding once. “You’re expected. Follow me,” he droned, gesturing for me to enter. I complied shakily, curious yet anxious about what awaited on the other side.