I Paid A Mafia Boss For Our Night

Chapter 12 My Brutal and Contradictory Employer

Engagement? Who's getting engaged? Antonio?

"If the princess agrees, I have no objections," Antonio said as he pushed open the door, his voice tinged with irritation as he hung up the phone. "I have urgent matters to attend to."

He walked over, swiftly untying the sash around my wrists before spinning around to change into fresh clothes from the wardrobe. "Stay here tonight. I'll have the driver take you home tomorrow. Where do you live?"

"No! I-" I shifted, my arms aching and awkwardly pulling the blanket up closer. I didn't want to stay, "Could I borrow some clothes? I want to go home."

"It's already late," Antonio reminded me, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone as he leaned in close. I recoiled in fear, his scrutinizing gaze intensifying as he forcefully pinched my chin. "What do you think this place is? Your personal brothel? Come and go as you please?"

The pain in my jaw sharpened, and my breathing hastened from fear. I always forgot our roles. I was no longer a client but merely an accessory to him, constantly reminded that I was nothing more than a prisoner marked with his shackles.

Avoiding his gaze to keep my humiliating tears at bay, I whispered, "Alright... I just want to go back."

My handbag had been lost during the abduction, containing my phone, ID, wallet, and the receipt needed to reclaim my camera-all missing. These were important, yet now their whereabouts were unknown. Rage built inside me, threatening to burst forth from my throat. Why must I endure this miserable life? "Keep calm, Sienna," I reminded myself. Provoking a mobster would do no good. "I just had some things to take care of, my school..." I tried to keep my tone low, though a hint of defiance slipped through.

"You'd better not entertain that thought," Antonio said, slowly fastening his cufflinks. "Your legs are beautiful. They are meant to wrap around my waist, not broken on your walk home." His threat was laced with a perverse jest, truly fitting of his ruthless mobster demeanor.

"You ... F-" I choked, unable to finish my sentence as his grip tightened around my neck. "A good mistress must learn manners!" he rasped.

Only after I nodded obediently did he release me. I coughed twice, rubbing my neck-his grip was firm, yet not as harsh as the man from yesterday. It felt almost playful, a twisted form of intimacy.

As he dressed, I couldn't help but observe. His physique was impressive, the broadness of his back resembling a shoreline as he slipped on a white shirt, his skills in bed undeniable. Lost in my thoughts, Antonio suddenly threw back my blanket.

"Ah! What are you doing?!" I screamed.

He held my ankle, his thumb caressing my foot bone through the thin skin, and then he leaned in to kiss it, his demeaning posture strangely menacing. "Don't even think about running, Sienna. You wouldn't want to know how the mob deals with runaway slaves."

Was he threatening to break my legs if I tried to escape? Antonio didn't elaborate; instead, his fingers traced my sore throat from yesterday's encounter. His touch made my body tremble with fear, yet I couldn't resist, and his expression darkened. "Don't let others touch you. Remember, you serve only me!"

His fury was evident as he irritably tucked me back into bed, leaving without a goodbye. You could at least give me a shirt! Am I supposed to sit here naked all day? Is this his kink? His methods of torment were more than just cruel.

Realizing I had no rights even to clothing as his captive, I couldn't contain my anger. I decided to search the wardrobe.

This was clearly Antonio's residence, his closet filled with shirts in various colors, matching jackets, and trousers. I grabbed a shirt, its hem just long enough to cover my butt. Dressed, I felt slightly relieved but didn't stop searching-I needed to get out, I needed underwear.

After searching the room, I found only a torn bra in the corner of a nightstand. The extent of its damage suggested a fierce struggle-it must have belonged to one of Antonio's mistresses, unwashed.

I couldn't possibly wear it. I threw it in the trash, the only appropriate way to handle garbage. But this also proved my search futile. Without proper attire, I couldn't leave Antonio's apartment. His scheme had succeeded.

I sat on the bed, arms crossed, pondering my next move. Antonio had mentioned a driver would take me home tomorrow; the driver would likely bring me clothes.

Lying back, I stared at a pattern on the white canopy, lost in thought. My handbag was gone-lost in the neighborhood? In the van? Certainly not in Pink Island.

Could I ever recover it? Without the repair receipt, the shop wouldn't let me take my camera. Silently, I prayed that my friend Chiara, the manager at that repair shop, hadn't gone on vacation yet.

I needed to buy a new phone to

contact Chiara and get a

replacement bank card. Speaking of

which, remembered my part-time job's payday was approaching had

planned to use that money for a trip,

but now that had to be postponed.

I had to settle my debts first, to break free from Antonio's clutches. Being a mobster's mistress was dangerous, especially for an ordinary college student like me without a proper job.

I needed money-a lot of it. I could

sell the family villa and get a smaller

place, or rent somewhere. There was my scholarship, but what other assets did we have? Maybe a million dollars? Compared to the 80 million dollars, it was a fraction. That was

afPthe money I had.

I had to think of a way to make more money. Thanks to my father, we were blacklisted by banks, making loans impossible. Maybe I should find a formal job...

Antonio's promised time to let me go was probably just to appease me. I couldn't trust a mobster to have any real honor, nor did I want to be priced and kept like a prostitute.

I still wanted to attend my graduation exhibition, take photos with my friends, go to the graduation ceremony, and then travel. I wanted to visit Milan...

All those plans were disrupted by that damnable betrayal, my father's gambling debts, everything gone awry.

Suddenly, the door was knocked loudly, my breath and heartbeat quickening again. Was it Antonio? Had he thought of a new way to torment me?

But before I could plan my next move, a strange voice came from outside, "Miss Corsetti, Boss has prepared some clothes for you. They're at the door." Antonio had prepared clothes for me? He was letting me go?!

I jumped up from the bed, mayber too quickly, and jabbed my hand against the mattress. I winced as pain shot through my palm. I hurried to the door and pulled it open.

The bodyguard was just placing the clothes on a stool outside the door. Surprised at the door opening, he paused but quickly regained his composure, "The driver is downstairs, ready to take you home whenever you're ready."

The relief was overwhelming. I gratefully took the clothes from his hands, "Thank you, Mr. Bodyguard."

"Just call me Vincent, Miss Corsetti," he said with a cool expression.

"Alright, Vincent. Just give me a moment. I'll be right out," I replied, closing the door and taking the clothes into the bathroom to change.

Considering my hand was injured,

Antonio had thoughtfully prepared a

vel.net

loose-fitting tracksuit for me. He even picked out a sports bra, front-fastening due to my condition-considerate of him even if his motives were questionable.

This saved me a lot of trouble. Though without the support of an underwire, my figure appeared less flattering, making me look more like his yoga instructor than a mistress. Dressed and ready, I wasted no time. I opened the door and quickly headed for the staircase, light and voices coming from below.

"This time I'm going on the business trip with Boss," I heard someone say, "I definitely need to attend Boss's engagement party."