I Paid A Mafia Boss For Our Night

Chapter 13 Does He Treat Every Mistress This Way?

Chapter 13 Does He Treat Every Mistress This Way?

Engagement Party? Is Antonio really getting engaged? To that mafia princess? How can someone, already engaged, still seek mistresses for fun? Such men, unfaithful to marriage and love, disgust me. Any remnants of my fantasies about him, perhaps a case of Stockholm syndrome, were now completely erased.

Feeling uneasy, I sat on the stairs, reflecting. Just yesterday, I was furious over Livia stealing my boyfriend, but now, I found myself the intruder in another's relationship. I realized the danger I was about to face; being engaged to Antonio meant she was likely also a mafia member.

I've seen mafia shows; they scorn the law. What if she finds out I'm Antonio's mistress? Would she have me killed? Or would she kidnap me, scar my face, and leave me to her bodyguards' mercy?

Distressed and agitated, I scratched my head, pondering the feasibility of refusing to be Antonio's mistress anymore. Vincent spotted me and stood at the bottom of the stairs, asking, "Why won't you come down?"

Startled, I nodded and stood up. He kindly introduced his two companions, "This is Matteo, and this is his brother Dante. They will drive you home." "Miss Corsetti." Dante appeared much more composed than Matteo, who couldn't take his eyes off me since he saw me. Previously, such gazes of curiosity and scrutiny didn't bother me, but now, knowing that I was Antonio's mistress, these unabashed stares felt humiliating. I glared back, displeased.

But jesus, maybe this Matteo had something wrong in his head, when he noticed my glare, he simply grinned foolishly. Dante, perhaps embarrassed by his brother's behavior, apologized, "You don't have to mind him; he's not right in the head."

I wouldn't argue with someone mentally unsound, so I followed Dante and Matteo to the elevator, descending to the underground parking. Dante drove a McLaren, with him and Matteo in the front seats, and I opened the door to the backseat, lined with a plush cushion. There, I found two paper bags, one containing my handbag!

How did my handbag end up here? Dante, buckling his seatbelt, turned to me, "Boss had it retrieved for you. Check if anything is missing."© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

My phone, bank cards, ID, and camera receipt were all there. Except for a new scratch on the back, the handbag was undamaged, a relief I hadn't dared hope for.

"Nothing's missing, thank you so much."

"We just did what our boss said." Dante started the engine and drove out slowly, "There's also a new Hermès handbag as compensation from Boss." I recognized the distinct pattern of the Hermès logo on the other bag. A brand new Hermès bag worth two hundred thousand dollars, just handed out by Antonio? Was he this generous with every mistress?

"Thank him for his kindness; it is beautiful." My eyes drifted from the logo, testing the waters, "I think it might suit his fiancée better."

"You know our boss's fiancée too?" Matteo turned around, leaning on the back of the front seat, "Have you seen her? Is she really as beautiful as Snow White from the fairy tales? I heard she's excellent at riding and shooting, a perfect heiress..."

A sharpshooter and a mafia heiress? How formidable was Antonio's fiancée, and would she really shoot me?

Damn Antonio, did he even realize the danger he was putting me in? No, I couldn't be his mistress any longer; I had to break it off soon.

I could sell my used car, despite it being so rundown that it might not fetch even a hundred dollars. My photography, I could ask Professor Falcone to help find a buyer, no matter the price. My handbags, some were new; they weren't designer but could still bring a few thousand dollars...

Matteo continued babbling until Dante, seeing my displeasure in the rearview mirror, gave Matteo a warning look, "You talk too much, Matteo." "What, I'm just curious." Matteo retorted, "Last time you guys should never have left me behind. You saw her, and I didn't, it's not fair..." "Shut up!" Dante finally snapped, "Sit properly."

Matteo muttered a curse but complied.

Dante was a steady driver, and after two hours, we finally arrived at my doorstep.

"We're here, Miss Corsetti." Dante opened the car door for me, "Boss said to keep your phone on; he might contact you directly if needed."

No need for Dante to clarify what 'need' meant; I already understood.

I fumbled for my keys, entered my house, and switched on the hall light. The door closed behind me, and soon the sound of the engine faded; the Dante brothers had left breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed; he had not confined me like in the mafia movies, but allowed me to be a mistress free to come and go. Yet, I knew I couldn't escape his control. He didn't need to lock me up; a mere gesture from him, and I would obediently comply.

I began to despise him.

The house was quiet, the entire second floor dark. I didn't know where my father was; he didn't answer his phone, and it infuriated me. But I was too tired to care anymore; I needed a good night's sleep for a busy day ahead.

In the middle of the night, my phone rang-it was my father.

"Did you ask the casino to ban me? You've grown bold, bitch. Is it because of Antonio? And you dare ignore me now!" His words were venomous. "The gambling debts you've accumulated are up to eighty million dollars, and you still dare to gamble?" I shouted into the night.

"Just once more, let me try one more time. I'll win it all back, then we'll be free," he pleaded desperately on the phone. His tone was manic, "Antonio listens to you, he must like you, Sienna. Speak to him for me, just give me one more chance."

Regret washed over me; signing that mistress contract for Antonio at my father's behest was a mistake. He was willing to sell his daughter to the mafia, even taking pride in it, Was he still my father? I never wanted to see him again-he was consumed by devils.

He even boasted about me being a mistress. How could I face my mother and Valentina after this?

Refusing to listen to his disrespectful requests any longer, I hung up and turned off my phone. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to find sleep again.

But sleep eluded me; I tossed and turned until dawn. Looking into the mirror, I saw the dark circles under my weary eyes.

After a quick wash, I changed clothes and began my usual morning run around the neighborhood. Before leaving, I messaged Professor Falcone, asking him to find buyers for my photography.

My palm's wound had healed.

I ran my routine route, passing the fountain at the neighborhood entrance, the residents' leisure area, and the small children's playground. I remembered bringing Valentina here when my parents were still married; she loved playing on the slides in her pink princess dress, clutching her teddy bear.

The slides had changed designs several times since then, and Valentina was about to get married. Reflecting on how quickly time passed, my phone rang. It was the real estate agent.