Taken by the mafia boss

Chapter 2

Sam

I need a break and I definitely need alcohol, be it wine or pure spirit, I just need anything with alcohol. Don't look at me like that, I'm not an alcoholic, I just need it to calm me nerves when things become over bearing for me.

Scanning the environment, my eyes searched for Rebecca, she's the perfect liar and the only one who can cover up my absence. I found her at the end of the hall, leading an elderly woman to her seat.

"Please excuse me, where can I find the toilet?" a young voice asked me, taking my attention away from Rebecca monetarily. Waving her long nail at my face, she double snapped it "I really need to use the restroom."

I would have answered your question honey if wasn't in dear need of air and alcohol, I can literally feel the sweat rolling down my spine. "You'll have to ask somebody else cupcake, this usher is unavailable right now because I'm on break."

She scowled at me. "What did you just call me? Cupcake? That's utterly rude. Allow me to remind you that I am Vivian Green, the esteemed daughter and heir of the venerable Mr. Green, whose extensive wealth could provide comfort for your entire, supposedly miserable, generation. So, refrain from..."

Without wasting another moment, I briskly walked away from her, my unwavering focus fixated on reaching Rebecca. With a gentle tap on her shoulder, I offered an apologetic smile to the elderly gentleman she had been conversing with. "I apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but I require her attention for a brief moment," I stated, attempting to maintain decorum. Without awaiting his response, I swiftly guided Rebecca away from the table, emphasizing the urgency in my voice. "I need you to cover for me. I yearn for a few moments on the balcony, where I can relish in some fresh air. The atmosphere in here is becoming suffocating."

Rebecca's response was laced with a deadpan expression. "This room boasts one of the most formidable air conditioning systems. Pray tell, what kind of air are you in search of?" she queried, her skepticism lingering. Undeterred by her doubts, I continued to plead my case, hoping to persuade her to understand my desperate need.

"Rebecca, please understand that I require actual air, the kind that is pure and unadulterated," I explained, attempting to convey the essence of my request. Yet, she remained unconvinced by the suddenness of my desired break. "Come on, Becca, don't be so uptight. I'm only asking you to cover for me for a mere thirty minutes," I implored, hoping to sway her with my plea.

With a dramatic gesture, Rebecca smoothed her already tightly-pulled bun and leaned forward, adding a touch of theatrical flair. "You know, when people typically take unauthorized breaks, they usually disappear for five or ten minutes. But you, my dear friend, have opted for a lengthy thirty minutes. I'll cover for you, but just for ten minutes. So, I suggest you make the most of it and hasten back," she emphasized, her tone implying a hint of exasperation.

Grateful for even the reduced time, I expressed my appreciation with a grateful smile before making my way to the balcony. However, not forgetting my immediate needs, I grabbed a wine glass along the way. Upon reaching the balcony, I found solace in its emptiness, thankful for the absence of inebriated guests bombarding me with irrelevant questions.

Lost in my contemplation, I found myself standing on the balcony, gazing up at the twinkling stars overhead. The vast expanse of the night sky provoked a profound longing within me, causing me to wonder if among those distant specks of light, any of them represented my beloved parents and siblings. Were they watching over me from above? I could never be certain, but the notion that their spirits had transformed into those celestial beacons provided a comforting thought, aiding me in coping with their absence.

However, the tranquility of the surroundings began to wane as a chill crept into the air, causing me to shiver involuntarily. Realizing my oversight, I gulped down more wine, silently lamenting my failure to grab a coat earlier that morning. The flimsy white shirt I wore did little to protect me from the encroaching cold.

"It's really cold out here you know," Great! An unwanted company "I would have offered you one, but you already ruined my jacket." wait! What?! "what are you doing out here love? Trying to avoid damaging another suit?"

As I listened to his words, I finally recognized the voice—a young man whose suit jacket I had unintentionally stained with red wine. It was fortunate that the wine hadn't seeped through to his shirt, sparing us both from further embarrassment. "I have already expressed my apologies for the mishap with your jacket. There's no need to continually hold it against me," I responded, a hint of defensiveness lingering in my voice.

To my surprise, he seemed rather amused by the situation as he joined me by the balcony railing. Without the burden of his jacket, he appeared slightly less intimidating in his fitted black shirt, which hugged his form with precision. A sense of embarrassment washed over me as I realized I had been openly observing him, and he seemed to have caught on, as a mischievous smirk played upon his lips. "I'm not holding it against you, love. I'm simply curious as to why you're out here in the cold while the real festivities are transpiring inside," he remarked, his tone laced with a mix of concern and intrigue.

"Is that what you call a party?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued. He nodded earnestly. "I wouldn't categorize it as a party. It seems more like an ostentatious display, an attempt to showcase one's wealth by purchasing a property at an exorbitant price."

"It's actually a charitable donation," he clarified, trying to justify the extravagant event. "Some people acquire such expensive items purely for the sake of donating to the orphanage. All the proceeds from today's auction will be given to the orphanage, so it's not just about flaunting wealth."

I remained skeptical. "I highly doubt that anyone here has the orphanage in mind, except for a few genuinely selfless souls. The rest are shamelessly indulging in vanity. Don't argue with me on this; I know exactly what I'm talking about."

Raising his hands in surrender, he gestured towards my empty glass. "Your glass is empty. Would you like a refill?"

Glancing at my glass as if I had just realized it was devoid of wine, I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. I shouldn't be drinking at all." His eyebrows arched inquisitively. "I'm on duty, and consuming alcohol goes against the policy."

Understanding washed over him, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "Ah, so you're feeling rebellious, my dear? If you're willing to defy protocol, then another glass of wine shouldn't pose a problem." Before I could protest, he swiftly snatched the wine glass from my hand and disappeared back inside.

If I were a sensible girl, I would have walked away from that situation, refusing to indulge in his attention. But there was a side of me, craving for acknowledgment, that eagerly waited for his return, yearning for more. And so, when he appeared with two wine glasses, I graciously accepted one, muttering my thanks before taking a sip.

"You never really mentioned what brought you out here," he reminded me, his gaze fixed on the breathtaking landscape before us.

"Age before beauty," I quipped playfully.

Chuckling softly, he turned his warm brown eyes back to me. "I may not be that old, but I'll take the lead. I ventured out here to make a phone call when I caught sight of you, gazing intently at the stars. Is stargazing your reason for being out here?"

Taking another sip from my glass, I arched my perfectly sculpted eyebrows in amusement. "Do you honestly think I would risk jeopardizing my job just for the sake of seeing stars that grace our skies almost every night, weather permitting?"

"Touché," he replied, his smile growing wider.

"I'm out here because I desperately needed some fresh air," I confessed, raising the wine glass in emphasis. "And, well, alcohol helps me survive these events without the urge to throw someone off the balcony." His lips curled into a playful smile. "Would you believe that someone almost revealed her father's net worth to me in there? It's utterly absurd.” As if there was even a sliver of a chance that I would be interested in knowing that? It's utterly ridiculous.

As a silence settled between us, I observed his gaze fixed upon me, scrutinizing me as if I were a puzzle he was determined to solve. "I'm Liam Gate," he introduced himself, his voice holding a hint of curiosity. "May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of this brutally honest lady?"

A rush of embarrassment flushed my cheeks, a rare occurrence as I usually reserved my blushes for dreams. "I'm Samantha, Samantha Urch," I stammered. He extended his hand for a handshake, and I accepted, feeling a tingling sensation as our palms met. "Your name sounds oddly familiar. Are you a celebrity or something? I swear I've heard that name before."

He chuckled, a touch of mystery lingering in his response. "I'm no celebrity, and I honestly don't know where you could have come across my name. Perhaps that's a puzzle you'll have to solve on your own." Deep down, I knew there was something familiar about his name as well, but it eluded me for the moment. Perhaps my brain would unveil the answer later.

"So, Ms. Urch, I find you rather intriguing," he continued, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Would you do me the honor of having lunch with me tomorrow? I would have preferred dinner, but I don't want to disrupt your work schedule."

Suspicion flickered in my narrowed eyes. "How did you know I'll be working tomorrow night?" I inquired, a note of curiosity mingling with caution.

A smile graced his lips as he redirected his gaze to the picturesque landscape. "I've actually hired your company's services for my mother's birthday tomorrow night. So technically, you'll be at my place tomorrow, and it would be challenging to have you all to myself. Hence, lunch seems like the better option."

As much as this man stirred flutters in my stomach, I wasn't about to readily agree to his proposition. I may be a hopeless romantic, but I refused to be desperate. "I'll need to check my schedule tomorrow before committing to any lunch plans," I replied, maintaining a cautious stance.

His eyes returned to me, sparkling with a certain emotion. They roamed my face, as if attempting to decipher something. "Well, could I at least have your number? That way, I can find out if you happen to be free," he suggested, seemingly aware that I might be fibbing about checking my schedule.

"Sure," I agreed, handing him my phone. He swiftly entered his number and also dialed his own line using my device, ensuring he had my contact information. Though I felt unnerved by his presence and didn't want to be alone with him, I couldn't deny the allure of the situation.

"I really need to get back inside," I stated, eager to distance myself from him. "I think I've already broken enough rules." I mentally ticked off the transgressions: consuming two glasses of alcohol, being absent for over thirty minutes, and indirectly probing guests for their names, even though I hadn't directly asked Liam for his. Regardless, I felt partially responsible for the deviation.

Making my way back into the hall, my eyes immediately sought out Rebecca. As soon as our gazes met, she shot me an angry glare, clearly displeased with my absence. I silently mouthed an apology to her before returning to my designated table.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I didn't come across Liam again, almost as if he had vanished after our conversation outside. At some point, I stopped actively searching for him and focused on carrying out my duties diligently. The event demanded my attention, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by enigmatic encounters.

After completing the job, Sharon expressed her appreciation by leaving us a generous tip. It's one of the things I truly enjoy about my job—the opportunity to unwind and relax before taking on another task, especially when accompanied by such a thoughtful gesture.

As I held a wine glass in my left hand and indulged in a delectable slice of cake with my right, I observed Rebecca diligently tidying up the freshly laundered clothes. The moment felt serene, creating the perfect ambiance for me to share a confession. “I have a confession to make.”

I caught Rebecca's attention, causing her to momentarily pause her folding. Her gaze lazily shifted towards me, a hint of curiosity sparkled in her eyes. "Let me guess," she quipped, "you're finally ready to reveal the reason behind your unwavering focus on your phone since this morning?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at her playful remark. "Actually, you might be onto something there," I confessed, contemplating my newfound connection. "Yesterday, at the auction, I had the pleasure of meeting an intriguing gentleman, and he extended an invitation for lunch today.”

Glancing at the wall clock, Rebecca's expression turned slightly incredulous. "It's already past noon. What are you still doing here?" Her words reflected her familiarity with my tendency to disregard rules. After all, I'm Samantha—never one to conform.

Reflecting on the situation, I couldn't help but express my mild disappointment. "I thought he would have at least called to check if I could make it," I mused, a hint of frustration in my voice. "But no, not even a simple text message from him."

Amused by my predicament, Rebecca let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the cloth in her hands and joining me on the bed. "What are you up to now? Playing hard to get?" she teased, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

With a slight pout, I countered her remark, defending my actions. "It's not about playing hard to get," I argued. "It's about reclaiming my sense of femininity. Let him do the chasing while I gracefully elude him."

Unable to contain her laughter any longer, Rebecca erupted into a fit of hysterics. "Seriously, Sam? What is this, a game of hide and seek?" I responded with an exaggerated eye roll, signaling my exasperation. "You know what? Forget about him. If he's not willing to put in the effort to chase you, then he's simply not worth your time. Delete his number and move on with your life."

"I can't do that," I mumbled quietly, my voice laden with hesitation.

Rebecca's suspicion grew, her narrowed eyes fixed on me. "And why the hell not?" she demanded, her tone laced with both concern and curiosity. "What aren't you telling me, Samantha?"

Taking a deep breath, I revealed the truth. "I can't get rid of him because I'll be seeing him tonight," I confessed, aware of the confusion that creased Rebecca's brow. "You see, his family is hosting the birthday party we're working on."

Rebecca's eyes widened twice their size in astonishment. "What the f**k, Samantha?!" she exclaimed, shoving me away and rising to her feet. "You planned on getting involved with the Gates? Haven't you heard the rumors surrounding them?!"

Defending my decision, I held my ground. "I'm aware of the rumors, but they can't all be true," I countered, my voice filled with determination. "You should have seen him, Rebecca. Liam doesn't resemble the stereotypical image of a mafia member, at least not compared to the ones I've seen on TV shows. He seems different."

"Liam?" Rebecca's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You're on a first-name basis with him?" Leave it to Rebecca to add her dramatic flair to any situation. "That guy practically screams mafia, Sam! I mean, he's undeniably attractive, hot, covered in tattoos, and lastly… he’s hot.”

I couldn't help but deadpan in response to her emphasis on his looks. "Yes, you've mentioned that," I replied dryly.

Rolling her eyes, she settled back into her previous spot beside me. "Listen, Sam, I'm actually grateful he didn't call you. You need to steer clear of him tonight. Trust me, getting involved with someone like him is a recipe for trouble."

I couldn't deny the weight of her words, but deep down, I knew it would be nearly impossible to completely ignore Liam. There was something about him that made it hard to resist his presence, like he was the type of man who couldn't easily be overlooked.