Taken by the mafia boss

Samantha In a moment straight out of a fairytale, my Prince Charming gracefully lowered himself to one knee. With a heartwarming smile, his dimpled cheek enhanced his already striking features. Brushing aside a few stubborn strands of hair, he presented a dazzling ring adorned with a magnificent rock. His words, filled with love and anticipation, floated in the air, "Will you, my lovely princess, honor me with your hand in marriage?" Overwhelmed with joy, my heart soared, ready to respond with the answer that would forever alter the course of our lives. However, fate had other plans, as an unexpected sharp sting on my thigh shattered the idyllic scene. The moment was abruptly disrupted, leaving me speechless. Refusing to open my eyes and clinging to the remnants of my dream, I was jarred back to reality by a resounding slap, striking me harder than before. A familiar voice hissed, "Samantha, why won't you wake up?" With one eye reluctantly peeling open, I shot a piercing glare at the intruder. "Rebecca, must you always spoil the perfect moments? Couldn't you have arrived just a bit later, after I had claimed the title of Mrs.? Must I remain single because of you?" Furrowing her brows, Rebecca's face mirrored the confusion of someone who had lost their way. "What nonsense are you babbling about? The only title you'll be earning if you don't get out of that bed is 'unemployed.' So, get your act together and get out of bed. Now!" Frustration coursed through my veins as I observed Rebecca's perpetual crankiness. Rolling my eyes in exasperation, I leisurely stretched my body, allowing my gaze to wander around the room. However, when it landed on the wall clock, its size seemed to magnify exponentially. "What the heck, Rebecca! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" I hastily leaped out of bed and dashed into the shower. "You're on track to secure a place in the Guinness World Records for being the worst roommate ever!" Her laughter tinkled lightly in the air. "So now you're not upset that I prevented you from claiming the 'Mrs.' title? Many may still be in the running, but you, my dear roommate, have already earned a spot in that book as the epitome of hopeless romance." I took the fastest shower of my entire life, quickly brushed my teeth, and sprinted out of the bathroom, completely nude. I had never been self-conscious about my nudity, especially since Rebecca had always been the one to avert her eyes from this flawless physique. "I've reminded you countless times, Sam. Whenever I'm in your room, please have the decency to wrap yourself in a towel before emerging. I'm tired of glimpsing your breasts and... well, you know," Rebecca chided, her voice tinged with annoyance. With a wide grin plastered across my face, I eagerly slathered lotion all over my body, savoring the silky feel against my skin. Today was the day I had been waiting for. I slipped into the meticulously chosen white and black ensemble that I had laid out the night before, reveling in its stylish perfection. Teasingly, I cupped my breasts in my palms, flashing a mischievous smirk at Rebecca. Her face contorted with a mix of annoyance and envy. "Oh, you're just green with envy over these beauties," I taunted, relishing in the playful banter. Not willing to stop there, I playfully smacked my own behind, emphasizing my assets before snatching up my purse. "You're absolutely out of your mind, that's the only explanation," Rebecca retorted, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and concern. "Come on, I've already called a taxi. Let's hope Mrs. Sharon doesn't give us the boot today. But just in case the unthinkable happens, I'm prepared to take on forty percent of the house rent while you handle the remaining sixty percent. Consider it your punishment for jeopardizing our livelihood." My eyebrows furrowed, mirroring Rebecca's earlier annoyance. "Are you out of your mind? Why on earth are you anticipating doom and gloom? No one is getting fired today. We're the crème de la crème of ushers, hand-picked by Sharon herself. She won't even think about replacing us until she finds someone absolutely flawless, and the last time I checked, such a person simply doesn't exist." Rebecca's words hung in the air, mingling with her chuckles. "You're just overflowing with optimism, aren't you? It would be fantastic if you channeled that energy into something as simple as arriving to work early. That's your only hurdle in life, and once you conquer it, you'll be unstoppable." We shared a hearty laugh at her playful jab as we climbed into the waiting taxi. My name is Samantha Urch, and I carry the weight of being the sole survivor of a devastating fire that consumed my entire family. How did I survive? Well, I've always been a rebellious spirit, known for my audacity. Picture this: sneaking out in the dead of night to attend a party, only to return to a home engulfed in smoldering ruins and the charred remains of loved ones. It was a night that shattered my world. In the aftermath, I was bounced around from one foster home to another, a nomad in search of stability. Each new placement brought fleeting hope, only to be snuffed out like a candle. The system had its way with me until I turned eighteen. Like clockwork, both my foster parents and the child services washed their hands of me, as if they couldn't wait to rid themselves of my presence. Not that I had any intention of subjecting myself to another foster home ever again. In celebration of my eighteenth birthday and newfound freedom as an adult, I made the impulsive decision to drown my worries in a sea of alcohol. It seemed preferable to the uncertainty of where I would spend the night. With my attractive physique, boasting alluring curves, a generous bosom, and a strikingly beautiful face, it wasn't difficult to attract attention and secure free drinks. I knew it wasn't the wisest choice to accept beverages from strangers in a club, but my limited funds left me with little choice. As the hours passed and my intoxication level rose to a tipsy state, I found myself swaying to the rhythm of the pulsating music. The men in the club couldn't help but take notice, diverting their attention away from the club's resident strippers and directing their generous tips my way. In a twist of fate, I found myself drawn into the world of stripping right there in that very club. Surprisingly, I excelled in this line of work, captivating the audience with my magnetic presence. To condense the story, my success as a stripper enabled me to purchase my very first apartment, which I now share with my close friend, Rebecca. It became a symbol of my independence and a testament to my resilience in the face of adversity. I met Rebecca that very day that I almost got r***d outside the club after one hell of a seductive dance I did in there, Rebecca being a nice stranger took me home, made soup for me and stayed with me till the following day. The following day, as we shared our stories, Rebecca revealed her job as an usher. She explained that while the pay might not be as lucrative as being a stripper, it offered a far safer environment. Moved by her words and inspired by the traumatic incident I had endured, I made a firm decision—I would not return to that club again. When James, the club owner, demanded an explanation, I mustered the courage to confront him with the truth. I recounted the horrifying incident, emphasizing how he had callously watched as those men almost violated me, seemingly deriving perverse pleasure from the spectacle. As for our living arrangements, it turns out that Rebecca doesn't actually contribute to the rent. Instead, she insisted on taking care of the bills, an arrangement that eases her sense of guilt and maintains our friendship. Her earlier mention of the forty percent rent split was merely a dramatic expression of her caring nature and concern for our shared expenses. As the taxi came to a halt outside the gate, Rebecca swiftly hurried off to take care of the sign-in process while I settled the fare with the driver. When I joined her, the other ushers were already assembling themselves inside the company bus. Rebecca beckoned me over with a wave, her infectious smile conveying a sense of camaraderie. "I managed to secure us window seats," she announced cheerfully. Expressing my gratitude with a smile, I observed the rest of the ushers who had impeccably styled their hair into neat buns. I couldn't help but chuckle at the stark contrast between their sleek appearances and my own unruly, wild curls. It seemed my hair had a mind of its own. The ten of us, each personally handpicked by Sharon herself, filed into the bus, ready to fulfill our roles as ushers. Now, let me clarify the nature of our work. When I mentioned "usher," I wasn't referring to a male or female escort. Rather, we were responsible for guiding people, primarily during events, ensuring they were seated properly and assisting them with any queries they might have. It was a job focused on hospitality and organization, an essential part of creating a smooth and enjoyable experience for event attendees. With everyone settled in their seats, Sharon rose to address the assembled ushers. Her commanding presence demanded attention, and we eagerly awaited her instructions. "I'm pleased to see all of you here, even though some of us were fashionably late, as usual. Nevertheless, what matters is that we are all present and ready for work. Today's task shouldn't pose any difficulties if you pay close attention to your responsibilities. Once we arrive at the venue, each of you will be provided with a book containing a comprehensive list of guests and their respective seat numbers. When a guest arrives, they will present you with their seat number, and it will be your duty to guide them to their designated seat. It's a straightforward process. However, if there arises a need for direct communication with a guest, and I emphasize 'if,' you must address them by their last name as indicated on the list. Do not approach anyone asking for their name directly. Is that clear?" The eager-to-please among us nodded enthusiastically, eager to demonstrate their commitment and efficiency. Sharon's next words carried a firm warning. "Let me be absolutely clear. Anyone who jeopardizes the smooth running of this event will find themselves out of this establishment before they can even comprehend the consequences. I implore each and every one of you to maintain exemplary behavior throughout. Now, does anyone have any questions or concerns?" As the room remained devoid of raised hands, a sense of hesitation or fear of questioning hung in the air. However, I was never one to shy away from asking questions, so I boldly raised my hand. "I have a question, Mrs. Sharon," I spoke up. Sharon responded with an eye roll, clearly familiar with my tendency to inquire. "Of course you do, Samantha. It wouldn't be you if you didn't have a question. Go ahead, let's hear it." The anticipation in the room was palpable, as my fellow ushers already knew what I was about to ask. It was a question I posed on every occasion we embarked on a job. I forged ahead, breaking the silence. "Are we allowed to have a drink?" I asked, my voice tinged with a hopeful tone. Sharon's glare locked onto me, her frustration evident. "Maybe one or two flutes of champagne?" I ventured, attempting to soften the blow. However, Sharon's glare sharpened, leaving no room for negotiation. I persisted, determined to make my case. "Oh, come on, some of us actually need that to function properly." Sharon's response was swift and firm, leaving no room for negotiation or exceptions. She addressed the entire group with a stern warning. "Let me make this abundantly clear to all of you. Consumption of alcohol is strictly prohibited during this event. If you feel the need to hydrate, confine it to water, and even then, do so discreetly, away from the guests' presence." Her gaze locked onto mine, intensifying the gravity of her words. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to consume any form of alcohol. If you rely on it to function properly, then perhaps you shouldn't be here in the first place." Unfazed by her stern admonishment, I responded with a mischievous grin, deliberately attempting to get under her skin. I playfully covered my eyes with a pair of sunglasses and gazed out through the window. I can't wait for today to come and go, I really need to get back to my dream.