Six months contract with the mafia boss

CHAPTER 2

DOMINIC

I did not fight tooth and nail, clawing my way to the top, just to be ridiculed and treated like a fool. No one—and I mean absolutely no one—disrespects me and walks away unscathed. Happily ever after? What a laughable, absurd notion. Does such a fantasy even exist for people?

“He’s not home, boss,” Saga said, as he stepped back into the room. His boots echoed faintly on the floor before he lowered himself into a seat beside me. His eyes flickered around the shabby living room, a look of barely disguised disdain clouding his expression. After a moment, he muttered, “Do you think we could recover the money if we sell this dump of a house?”

My lips curled into a humorless smile. This wasn’t about the money. No, this was about something far more valuable—respect. If I let him get away with this, word will spread. Others will think it’s perfectly fine to borrow my money and vanish without a trace. That can’t happen. Not on my watch.

Sniffing lightly, I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out my wallet. Flipping it open, I fished out a card and handed it to Malcom, who had been standing quietly by the door. “Get dinner for everyone,” I instructed. “And don’t forget to add Marcus.”

Saga’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are we really just going to wait for him to come back?”

I knew that old fool was somewhere in this house, and the thought of looking for him myself only made me more frustrated. I was far too hungry to be chasing after him right now. Ignoring Saga’s question, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried to fight off the headache that was hammering away just beside my left eye. I didn’t want to take any painkillers.

An hour passed before dinner arrived, and I took my time to eat. My men did the same, each of us silently working through the meal. It wasn’t much, but for now, it would do.

Once we were finished, I stood up and made my way to the kitchen, looking for something stronger. I searched the shelves and drawers, but no alcohol.

That’s when my gaze landed on something unexpected—the note pinned to the fridge. I frowned as I read it:

TRY NOT TO DRINK TODAY, DAD.

That bastard had told me he’d lost his entire family in an accident ten years ago. If that was a lie, what else had he lied about? What else had he been hiding from me?

I let out a sharp breath and reached for a bottle of water instead, trying to push aside the irritation gnawing at me.

With the bottle in hand, I decided to take matters into my own hands and search for him in the rooms. Maybe this time, he’d be dumb enough to show himself.

The first room I walked into was definitely a woman’s—there was no mistaking it. The disorderly state of it screamed that she was always in a hurry, barely taking the time to settle in or keep things organized. Clothes were scattered across the floor, papers piled up on the desk, and the bed looked like it hadn’t been made in days. I almost turned around and left, but something caught my eye. There, on the bed, was a picture of her.

I bent down and picked it up, my eyes locking onto her face. My brows furrowed as I studied her. She looked… strangely familiar.

My memory isn’t something I doubt. If she looked like someone I knew, then I had definitely crossed paths with her before.

“Boss?” I heard Saga’s voice call out, and before I could make sense of my thoughts, the door creaked open. Without hesitation, I slipped the picture into my pocket and turned to face him.

“We found him,” Saga said, a look of satisfaction on his face.

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Where?”

“In a secret room in his bedroom.” Saga’s eyes darted around the room, his nose scrunching in distaste. “Did a tornado run through here?”

I shrugged. “She might have been too busy to clean her room.”

Why the hell am I making excuses for her? I shook my head, trying to brush off the thought.

“Roughen him up, I’ll be with you shortly.” My mind was consumed with thoughts of the woman whose picture I’d just seen. There was something about her that intrigued me, something I needed to know more about.

“Yes, boss,” Saga responded without hesitation before walking out of the room.

Once I was alone, I searched the room a little more thoroughly, but I didn’t find anything that stood out. Frustrated, I let out a sigh and decided to leave. There was no point wasting more time here.

**************

“Give her a seat Saga,” I instructed, my gaze locked on the lady whose picture was in my breast pocket.

Saga nodded quickly, then hurried into the bedroom to grab the vanity chair. He brought it over and dropped it behind her, making it clear he wasn’t about to be gentle.

“Sit,” I commanded.

For a long moment, she stayed hunched on the floor, her body stiff as a board. Her eyes were frantic, her breath shallow, but she didn’t move.

“I said sit!” I barked, my patience thinning.

At the sound of my raised voice, she flinched, her body jerking as she scrambled to her feet and quickly dropped into the chair. Her ass barely made contact with the seat, like she was ready to spring up at any moment.

“You dare threaten me with the cops?” I growled, the words slipping out between gritted teeth. I knew she was bluffing—if the cops were actually on their way, I would’ve been alerted long before now. “Do I look like someone who’s in the mood for your little games?”

She swallowed hard, her throat wobbling, and quickly shook her head.

“Use your words,” I snapped. She wasn’t dumb, was she?

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, as tears started to fall, trickling down her cheeks in a silent admission of her helplessness.

I stared at her, cold and detached. When was the last time I shed tears? Ten years ago? It felt like a lifetime. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself show weakness.

“Save the tears for his funeral,” I told her, my tone blunt, and watched as her eyes grew even wider.

“Please…” Her voice trembled as she spoke. Her eyes darted to her father, the man I was about to

blow his brains out as if he were the only thing that mattered to her. “He’s the only family I have left.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, a dark, humorless sound. “Don’t worry. Being an orphan isn’t so bad. I’ve been one all my life, and it’s been f*****g great.” I had learned long ago that family meant nothing in this world.

Cocking my gun, I pointed it directly at Marcus’s temple, the cold steel pressing against his skin. “Your father owes me, and he’s been refusing to pay, trying to vanish without a trace.”

I could see the panic in her eyes as she wiped her tears away quickly, desperate to hold onto any sliver of hope. She leaned forward, her voice trembling. “How much does he owe? Please, give me time,” she begged, her eyes pleading. “I swear, I’ll pay it all back.”

A child’s love for her father… How enviable. I hope you noticed the sarcasm. It was almost pathetic, the way she clung to him.

I stood up slowly, my boots clicking softly against the floor as I circled Marcus.

Finally, I stopped behind him, my gun now aimed at the back of his skull. I turned my sharp gaze back to his daughter. “How are you going to pay me a hundred million dollars?”

She yelped.

“I thought so.” My finger curled around the trigger, the metal of the gun feeling familiar. “He knows that it’s either he pays me my money, or I take his life in exchange. And judging by how things are going… I think we’re going with the latter.”

“Take her!” Marcus blurted out, his voice frantic. “You can take MELIORA, hold onto her until I can pay off all the money.”

Disgusted, I resisted the urge to pull the trigger. “It seems the family love is one-sided,” I mocked, a chuckle escaping me as I found the irony of the situation amusing. “I have a better idea.”

With a swift motion, I clicked the safety off and shoved the gun into my waistband as I closed the distance between me and Meliora.

Her wide, glassy eyes darted nervously around the room.

“Instead of waiting an eternity for your father to pay off his debt, you can work for me,” I offered, “until his debt is paid.”

“And if I say no?” she asked, her voice small.

I moved faster than she could react, snatching her jaw with a brutal grip, squeezing it until she gasped in pain. “Then,” I whispered in her ear, my voice low and lethal, “you’ll have to watch Daddy Dearest paint this dirty floor with his brains.”