Claimed in the Mafia Bargain

Chapter One

Alexia

"One!"

My breath hitched up as the girl in the green see-through dress stood up, her long legs uncrossed slowly, deliberate and practiced as she hitched her fingers on her hip, tossing her hair back. She was beautiful, extremely alluring, and my God, does it bother me.

It bothered me because I wondered if I would be 'capable' enough to get the highest-paying individual tonight, just as Madam Nadia had said.

Maybe I shouldn't be too forward. There were tons of beautiful women here, and I knew every lady in this suffocating waiting room, nine in total, with me being the last of them, all looked ready. Ready to win.

Or, is it just I?

My hands were sweaty, fear gripping me. What if this highest-paying individual—the one dishing out the exact amount of money I needed, the only amount worthy of exchanging my body for—picked her? Or one of these other girls?

Desperation clawed at my chest. It felt like a physical weight, pressing against my ribs and for the first time, I was hoping no one was fit enough.

It was selfish, yes. But I had no choice.

She walked out with the lady in the suit, I adjusted myself on the plush velvet chair.

"Nine."

My head snapped up. They called another number, and it still wasn't me.

Wait.

I blinked, my brain lagging behind the thumping of my heart as I looked down at the tag on my wrist. Nine.

"Nine…?"

My lips pressed together.

I was called, I was f*****g called.

"Yes! I'm here, ma'am."

I scrambled to my feet, my heels wobbling slightly on the thick carpet. I smoothed down the front of my dress, it was a tight-fitted black see-through number, the fabric so sheer it left nothing to the imagination. My black inner wear was on full display right underneath.

It didn't actually bother me, never really did, as it was the uniform of my life. I wore clothes similar to this every night at the bar where I worked.

My mind drifted back to yesterday, the humiliation of it burning as I stood in Bobby's office, twisting my apron while asking—begging—for financial assistance.

Twenty thousand dollars.

That was the price of a life, or so the doctor had been clear. I had requested fifteen thousand from Bobby, thinking I could scrape together the five I had saved in the shoebox under my bed.

Bobby owed me close to seven thousand dollars for overtime and tips he’d withheld over the last six months, so it was my money, and I just needed him to pay up.

But the man had looked at me with those watery, dead eyes, telling me he didn't have it.

"The bar is sold, Lexi," he’d said, lighting a cigar. "The new buyer takes over next month, everyone in the street knows that your brother was bound to end up at the hospital. It is a miracle he wasn't killed."

He was no good, never was, and now because of him I was here, walking past a long, dim hallway filled with whispers. I saw doors slightly ajar, catching glimpses of men—old, young, fat, handsome—with girls.

Finally, we reached a steel door at the end of the corridor, and the woman ushered me in.

The girl in green, Number One, was already there, sitting on a chaise lounge while looking pushed up, luxurious, and bored.

Madam Nadia sat behind a desk that looked like it cost more than my entire existence. She was the sister of my co-worker, the one who had slipped me the card to this place. She looked me over, her eyes sharp, checking the merchandise one last time.

I had already gone through the processing, the humiliating blood tests to check for sickness and background checks to ensure no history of theft or crimes. I had signed the contract of secrecy, an NDA so thick it felt like signing away my soul.

"You can still choose to return to the street," Nadia said, her voice devoid of emotion. "It is the will of the girls, not the clients. But once you take a key, there is no going back."

I wasn't going back. I would never return here after this, but I wasn't leaving tonight without that money.

I said nothing, indicating that I wasn't backing off.

"Good," Nadia said.

She reached into a drawer and pulled out two magnetic key cards. She slid one across the mahogany desk toward the girl in green, and the other toward me.

"Whoever you are spending the night with is waiting behind the door matching this key," Nadia explained. "One is waiting and the other is expecting whoever he is playing with to wait for him. Do not disappoint them."

I looked at the key sliding toward the girl in green.

Penthouse Green.

My heart stopped.

My coworker had told me about the rumors her sister always gossiped. Penthouse Green was the whale, the client who paid triple, the one who could clear my debt in a single night and leave me with enough to disappear.

Desperation clawed at me again, sharper this time, as I looked at my key. Suite 304 standard rate. It wouldn't be enough.

The girl in green didn't even check her number, too busy checking her reflection in her compact mirror and pushing up her breasts to look more appealing. She grabbed the key without looking.

"Go now," Nadia dismissed us.

We walked out, the heavy door clicking shut behind us. My mind was racing because I couldn't ask her to trade. I badly wanted the keys she nonchalantly clenched admist her fingers.

Talking to her would only arouse suspicion, and if Nadia found out I knew who the client was, she’d think I breached the NDA, viewing me as a liability.

I’d be dead, or worse, my brother dead.

We crossed the part of the hallway where the other people were, heading toward the private elevator. The girl in green walked ahead, confident, her hips swaying.

I sighed, speeding up my pace as I let in a breath before tapping her on the shoulder just as we reached the elevator doors.

She turned, looking me up and down with open disgust.

"What?" she asked, shooting me a look that could cut glass. "I've no idea about anything, newbie, if that is what you intend asking."

Wow.

She wasn't new? Was she a frequent flyer here? Did she know the number of the room she would be heading to already?

I bit my lip. If she knew the room number, this wouldn't work, but she hadn't looked at the key, so I had to risk it. I wasn't backing out.

"Your straps," I pointed to her shoulder. "They're tangled."

The girl paused, frowning as she craned her neck to look at her back, trying to fix whatever strap she thought was tangled.

"Where?" she snapped.

I moved in. "Here, let me..."

I stumbled, it was a practiced fall, one I used to use when I needed to distract a drunk patron while my brother swiped his wallet. I crashed into her, my hip checking hers, sending my key—and hers—clattering to the floor.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry..." I gasped, dropping to my knees instantly.

"Are you blind?" she hissed, glaring down at me while she still tried to fix her strap. "Clumsy idiot."

"I'm so sorry," I apologized again, my hands moving fast.

I picked up the keys, my thumb brushed the raised lettering, Penthouse Green and Suite 304. I palmed hers and shoved mine into her hand.

"Here," I said, standing up and handing her the wrong key. "I'm really sorry. Let me fix that strap."

I reached out and quickly untwisted the fabric on her shoulder.

"Get off," she grumbled, brushing me away.

The elevator doors slid open, and we both stepped inside, the air thick with her perfume and my fear.

She pressed the button for the highest part of the building—the Penthouse—then turned to me, her eyebrow arched.

"Aren't you going to indicate where you're going?" she asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I smiled, a little shy, trying to look as naive as possible.

"You did it already," I said softly. "You pressed where I'm going."

The girl raised a brow. "What?"

I pulled the key, her key, from my pocket where I had quickly placed it. My brother, Leo... he was a pickpocket and on countless occasions had taught me how to lift a watch or a wallet in a crowded bar. “Fast hands, Lexi. Distraction is currency.”

Never had I thought it would come in handy to save his life.

"It says the Penthouse," I said, showing the key to her, the gold lettering glinted under the elevator lights. "Where I'm headed... it says the Penthouse. Isn't that where you're going too?"

The smile slid off her face, replaced by a slack-jawed stare. She looked at my hand, then snatched the key from her purse, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Suite 304.

Her face twisted in instant shock, her mouth opening, then closing.

"How?" she breathed, her voice rising an octave. "How's this possible? Rafael will never change me!"

Rafael.

The name landed in the small space like a grenade and that moment, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a private foyer that screamed money and power.

I walked out, my innocent face a mask covering the terrifying fear of what I just did and the crushing anxiety that I would be found out instantly.

“Nadia could have made some mistakes… no way. Rafael will never… he had always wanted just me!”

I clenched my fist as guilty washed over me. But then, I can't give it up… I've to save my brother, I'm so sorry… after tonight, you can have Rafael all you want.

I turned back to the elevator where the girl was pressing the 'Open' button, but the automatic doors were already sliding shut. She glared at me, her face contorted in pure, unadulterated rage.

I badly want to apologize. I wish I could say that, but that would be me digging my grave.

So I stared at her, trying hard to look normal, one that obviously annoyed her.

"It's only a matter of seconds before he throws you out!" she screamed, lunging forward. "You can't satisfy him! You don't know him, no one can except I!"

The metal doors slammed shut, cutting off her voice.

I stood alone in the hallway.

I sighed, the adrenaline was fading, leaving cold dread in its wake.

Rafael.

Who was he? Why did she sound so possessive? And why did she say he would throw me out?

I was desperate, too desperate to back down now.

I walked slowly toward the massive double doors at the end of the hall, the room where I would either be thrown out or awarded.

My hand shook as I reached out, placing the key card against the sensor and the lock disengaged.

I pushed the door open and took a step inside, the room was massive, shadowy, and freezing cold.

I took two steps in, then recoiled as a voice rolled over me, deeper and colder than the air in the room, seemingly coming from the walls themselves.

“You're late.”

The strap slipped from my fingers, my bag dropped to the floor as his command followed.

“To the table. Now.”