His Virgin Stripper

34- Built Like Sin

Sienna

Roxy sat at the edge of the mattress, the box of tissues gripped tightly in her hand as she waited patiently for me to stop sniffing.

The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the ragged sounds of my breathing and the occasional wet gasp as I fought to keep the tears from spilling over again.

My throat felt like it was coated in sand, the phantom weight of Marcello’s hand still burning against my jawline, making my skin flush with a humiliating, lingering heat.

When the crying finally subsided into a dull ache in my chest, I wiped the back of my hand across my nose, my shoulders dropping as exhaustion took over.

Roxy shifted on the mattress, the springs groaning softly under her weight as she pushed me for answers. The patience in her face was fading, replaced by the need to know what had happened behind those closed office doors.

"Sienna, come on," she whispered, her fingers digging into the tissue box. "Look at me. You're shaking. What did he say to you?"

My mouth opened, my brain short-circuiting under the pressure of the truth. It felt like a physical mass in my throat, heavy and suffocating, and before I could stop myself, the words tore out of me.

"We’re in a Mafia den."

Roxy blinked. She froze completely, her hand stopping mid-air as she stared at me. For three long seconds, the room went dead silent.

"Huh?" her face contorted into a mask of confusion.

I let out a ragged, bitter laugh, pushing myself off the wooden door and pacing toward the center of the room. My boots felt heavy against the rug.

My mind spun, flashing back to the dark document on the marble table, the ink of my jagged signature, and the terrifying, wicked smirk Marcello had given me when he looked at my ruined jeans.

"Remember when you said it was like we were in some kind of thriller novel?" I asked, my voice rising slightly, the hysteria bubbling back up into my chest.

I grabbed my own hair, my fingers tangling in the messy strands as I looked at her. "It's worse. It is so much worse, Rox."

Roxy chuckled nervously, a sharp, tight sound that showed she was desperately trying to keep the mood light, trying to pretend that I was just overreacting to a stressful situation. She gripped the edge of the bed tighter, her knuckles turning pale.

"How can it be worse, Sienna?" her eyes searched mine for any sign of a joke. "You're scaring me. Just tell me what's going on. We're in a house with a bunch of rich guys in dress shirts. How is that a thriller?"

I stopped pacing and stared directly into her eyes, the weight of my reality crushing down on me.

"We are in a Mafia novel," the syllables dropped like stones between us. "And worse? I just signed a deal with the Don. I put my name on the paper, Rox."

Rox’s breath hitched. The blood completely drained from her face, her eyes widening as the pieces finally began to connect in her head. She looked down at the tissue box in her hands, then snapped her gaze back up at me.

"Wait," she stammered, her voice dropping into a frantic, hushed whisper as if the walls themselves were listening to us. "Wait... don't tell me Marcello is their leader."

I couldn't even force myself to speak the words. I just gave her a heavy nod, my chin dropping toward my chest as the absolute drain of the situation washed over me.

I felt hollowed out, stripped of my strength, a ghost of the girl who had walked into that office an hour ago.

Instead of panicking, or pulling me toward the window to plan an escape, Roxy let out a long, low whistle. She leaned back against the headboard, her expression shifting from terror into something unexpected.

"Honestly?" her voice suddenly lost that sharp edge of panic. "I knew it. I f*****g knew it, Sienna. I was sure he wasn't a normal person the second I saw him. Normal millionaires don't command troops of loyal armies with tattoos."

I stared at her, my mouth dropping open. My best friend was sitting on a bed in a criminal stronghold, casually analyzing the power of the man who had just claimed the right over my body.

"Are you insane?" I hissed, taking a step toward the bed. "Did you miss the part where I said Mafia Don? Did you miss the part where I said I signed my life away?".

Rox dismissed my panic with a flick of her wrist. She looked at me, a strange, half-envious glint appearing in her eyes that made my stomach turn.

"Sienna, you don't know how lucky you are," her voice was completely casual now, as if we were back in our apartment in LA gossiping over coffee.

"Like, seriously. Some girls... like myself... would literally kill to have a man that good-looking and powerful want them that bad. He's dangerous, yeah, but look at him! He's built like a god, he wears those dress shirts like a sin."

I stood there, completely dumbfounded by my best friend's train of thought at a time like this. My brain couldn't even process the absurdity of what was coming out of her mouth.

The terror that had been clawing at my throat for the past hour was suddenly derailed by pure shock.

"You are disgusting," my voice dripped with genuine offense as I stared at her.

"You and your mind are completely warped, Rox. He is a dangerous criminal. He just told me I'm meant to be his pet! He looked at me like... like he owned every piece of me. How can you sit there and talk about how good-looking he is?"

Roxy rolled her eyes, a dramatic smirk breaking across her face as she leaned forward, tossing the tissue box onto the nightstand.

"Oh, please," she teased, her eyes dropping to the front of my shirt before flashing a wicked grin. "He didn't hurt you, did he? No. He just riled you up. And honestly? I am in support of this. I am one hundred percent in support of you using Marcello to get over Dave."

"Using him?" I shouted, my voice cracking as I threw my hands in the air. "You don't use a mafia don, Roxy! He uses you! He has a contract!"

"So what?" Roxy stood up from the bed and stepped right into my face, her eyes dancing with dark amusement.

"Dave was a cheating, lying piece of s**t who made you feel small. Marcello looks like he would burn a city down if someone touched your hair. Use the man, Sienna. Let the big, scary mafia don ruin you a little bit if it means you forget all about that loser back in LA."

"This isn't a rebound, Rox! This is adjacent to human trafficking!" My chest heaved as we stood toe-to-toe, our voices clashing in a fast and furious wave of bickering.

"It's not trafficking if he's buying you expensive clothes and looking at you like he wants to eat you alive," she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest with a triumphant grin.

"You're just mad because your body agrees with me."

"I am not mad about my body!" I lied through my teeth, the heat flaring up my neck as the memory of my soaked underwear flashed through my mind. "I am mad because my best friend has the survival instincts of a cardboard box!"

"A cardboard box that stays in the penthouse, thank you very much," she smirked, giving my shoulder a playful shove.

We kept going back and forth, our voices overlapping, the ridiculousness of the arguments escalating until the absurdity of it all finally broke through the heavy, suffocating wall of terror in my chest.

The imagery of Roxy trying to negotiate with Marcello’s guards about penthouse amenities suddenly hit me.

A small, breathless sound escaped my throat. I tried to choke it back down, tried to keep the hard line of my anger, but it was useless.

The tension in my chest snapped, feeling entirely light for the first time all day.

A genuine laugh burst out of my mouth, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. Roxy immediately joined in, her high-pitched giggles mixing with my ragged laughter until we were both breathless, leaning against each other in the center of the room.

The danger hadn't disappeared, and the contract was still sitting in Marcello’s office, but right now, listening to my best friend's ridiculous thoughts, the cage didn't feel quite as cold.