THE MAFIA'S DARKEST DESIRE

LEAH'S POV I sat stiffly at the café table, staring at the espresso in front of me while Noah ranted. His voice was too loud, dragging unwanted attention from every corner of the room. People were staring. Their curious, judging eyes burned into me. I swallowed hard, humiliation creeping up my spine. "I can't believe this nonsense. A stripper!" He scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "We're done, Leah. I can never date a stripper. Do you even know what strippers are for? Pleasure. You thought I’d marry one? Get over it." My jaw clenched. "I am not a stripper," I snapped, lifting my gaze to meet his. A dancer and a stripper weren’t the same thing. But even if I was a stripper—so what? It was a profession like any other. "Isn't that the same thing?" His voice dripped with disdain. "You lied to me, Leah. You told me you were a photographer. But what did you strip? Did you think my father would ever let me marry a stripper?" I sighed, lowering my head. "Answer me!" His voice boomed, making me flinch. "If stripping wasn’t so bad, then why did you lie? You were hoping to land the son of a commander? To get rich? Did you use me for my money?" I rolled my eyes. Yes, I had lied. That was my biggest mistake. But what else was I supposed to do when every person I’d ever loved hated what I did? "Would you have loved me if I told you?" My voice was quiet but firm. "Isn't that why you're breaking up with me?" Noah faltered. His mouth opened as if to argue, but no words came out. I let out a bitter chuckle, grabbing my bag from the table. "That's what I thought. You would have left me, just like everyone else. So don’t act so different." His face twisted with anger and something darker flashed behind his eyes. "You're still pretty mouthy for a stripper," he sneered. Then his voice dropped. "By the way... why did you claim to be a virgin?" "I never lied," I said, pushing open the café door. The night air rushed against my face, sharp and biting. But just as I stepped forward, a hand gripped my wrist—tight. I whirled around. Noah stood there, smiling at me. But it wasn’t the smile I knew. It was something dark. "Do you think you can walk out on me?" he asked, his fingers tightening around my wrist. Later That Evening. The pounding in my head wouldn’t stop. I was exhausted. All I wanted was to go home and sleep. But I couldn’t. I stepped into the club, walking through the corridor when a rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me into a corner. "Red," Bino, the club manager, whispered, her voice heavy with urgency. "I know you’re not a stripper, but Nicole isn’t here. She hasn’t been for the past five days." I frowned. "Is she okay?" Bino glanced around before lowering her voice. "She’s pregnant. Her boyfriend doesn’t want her stripping anymore. He plans to marry her. Don’t tell anyone." "Bino, have you even checked on her?" I asked. She gave me a look, one that told me to stay quiet. "Look, I’m out of strippers. And I know you need money for your studio—" I inhaled sharply. I did need money. Thirty minutes later, I walked into the hotel, wrapped in a large coat, lined up with the other girls. What the hell was I doing? I was doing the same thing Noah had broken up with me for. A towering man stepped in front of me. His dark eyes raked over me. He gestured toward my coat. "Take it off." Like I said. I was a dancer, not a stripper. I never needed a reason to strip. But that didn't matter here. The man in front of me tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes as I hesitated. He signalled to the men around him. Before they could move, I slipped off my coat, revealing myself in a bikini. My skin burned under their assessing stares, but I kept my chin up. The man smirked, satisfied. He gestured for me to continue lining up with the other women. I followed silently until we were led into a suite—no, a presidential suite. I stepped in. Women were over-powerful men, grinding on their laps like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't the first time I'd seen this. But I was still amazed by it. "Red," a familiar voice called. Fiona. She grabbed my arm. "Stay close. Do exactly what I say." Her eyes locked onto mine. I nodded. We entered another room. The music was softer here, the air thicker with expectation. I gripped the pole. My heart pounded. I owed this to Nicole. She had taught me, laughing at my clumsy attempts, never knowing I'd actually need it one day. I had only learnt for fun that dancing on a pole was more fun. I moved with the music, letting it drown out everything else. Fiona glanced at me now and then, her lips curling slightly. I knew what that smile was. You're doing fine. I just wanted this to end as quickly as possible. A sharp slap cut through and the music went off. The entire room went silent. I turned to know what happened. Fiona was on the floor, on her knees. My gaze snapped up. There was a man lounged in a chair, watching her with a devilish smirk. His eyes glittered with something dark, something so cruel. "A spy, huh?" he mused, his voice almost amused. Spy? Before I could process it, another slap landed. Then another. A gasp tore from my lips. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees and crawled toward her. "Wait!" I screamed, throwing myself over Fiona. "Stop!" The woman's hand froze mid-air. "Move," she snapped. "This traitor tried to kill the Boss." I shook my head. "No! That’s impossible. Fiona would never do that!" She was only nineteen. She had a reason not to do something like this, it was her grandmother. She loved that woman too much. "Move!"The man’s deep voice cut through the room like a blade. I lifted my chin. "Fiona is innocent. But your boss—" I shot him a look, tightening my hold on her. "I wonder what the police would have to say if we took this to them. The entire room fell silent, and the other girls exchanged glances. Then, the door opened, and a man entered. "Boss, it’s confirmed, poison. Jeremy is dead." My blood ran cold. I turned slowly, looking at Fiona. "No," I choked. "I swear, she’s innocent!" My voice rose, desperate. "Maybe your boss is framing her!" The man’s gaze flicked to me, studying me. His eyes—God, they were sinful. Beautiful, but dripping with something wicked. "Is that so?" he murmured. I swallowed. "I’ll do anything if you can prove she did it," I blurted out. My heart slammed against my ribs as I realized what I'd just offered. I turned to Fiona, waiting for her to deny it, but her face was darkened. That good girl I knew? She was gone. Fiona stared at me, her expression blank. "Sometimes, you should learn to mind your own business. You're overly annoying."Her voice was calm. A sharp pain tore through my scalp. I yelped as she yanked my hair back. The room spun as she pulled me to my feet, dragging me with her. And the look in her eyes. It wasn't remorse. "I'll kill her if you don't let me go!" Fiona’s voice was sharp, her grip on the knife tight against my throat. I shook my head desperately, my hands clutching at her wrist, but the woman who had been hitting her hesitated. She glanced at the man sitting comfortably, waiting for his command. But he didn’t move. Instead, his smile stretched wider, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. He leaned back, exuding nothing but power and control. "Do you think I care for some foolish stripper?" I closed my eyes, accepting how foolish I was. I had been stupid, thinking I knew Fiona. Fiona gasped, the knife clattering to the floor as she ran. I collapsed, my hands flying to my throat as I gasped for air. My body trembled violently, but I couldn’t move. The lady immediately chased after her. "Boss, she stole your car keys!" The woman returned, breathless. The entire room fell silent. Everyone stood up, leaving. The man— Boss sighed deeply, the weight of his exhale vibrating through the air. He rolled his eyes before shifting his gaze to me. He looked like he had caught a prey, shiver ran down my spine. "I'm sorry!" I blurted. "I thought I knew Fiona! Please, forgive me!" "Forgive?" He scoffed. I swallowed hard, desperation clawing at my throat. "I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all—please." Boss stood. Every step he took toward me made the walls feel smaller. He reached down, his fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up to meet his. A small smile curved his lip before letting go and straightening. My breath stopped as he reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. His muscles rippled, bouncing, but I barely had time to process it before his voice sliced through the silence. "Anything?" I forced a nod, my body trembling. His eyes darkened. "Then will you give me your body?" I froze. No. Never in a million years had I thought he’d ask that. I shook my head violently. "No. I can’t. I’ll do anything else." My voice cracked. My hands curled into fists as tears burned at the corners of my eyes. "A beggar with a choice?" His tone was filled with mockery. He sank back onto the couch, legs spread wide, completely at ease. "What am I going to do with you? My car cost me 20 million dollars. Not only did you help a spy escape, but you intervened, and now she’s gone with my keys." He tapped his fingers against the armrest. He exhaled slowly. "I bet you don’t have that kind of money." His gaze flicked down my body, his smirk growing. "Now... strip." I hesitated, my fingers trembling as they reached for the thin strings of my bikini. Slowly, I untied them, my pride crumbling with each piece that slipped from my body. Humiliation gnawed at me. I never imagined it would come to this being. When my panties finally slid to the floor, I felt every bit of my self-respect shatter. He smirked a lazy, arrogant thing that made my stomach twist. He was sinfully gorgeous, but that look, God, I hated it. It wasn’t just amusement. It was a mockery. "Crawl to me," he ordered. Shame burned hot in my cheeks, but I dropped to my knees. I moved forward, inch by inch until I reached him. He leaned down, his fingers tangling into my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. "This," he murmured, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "This is the look that suits you… but I know an even better one. And you’re going to love it." Minutes later, I was crying out, over and over, as he drove into me. His thrusts were deep, each stroke sending heat pulsing through my core. My body betrayed me. My thighs trembled, my back arched and my breath came in shallow. He had me lay beside him, one leg hooked high in his grip, forcing me to watch as his c**k slid in and out of me, slick with my arousal. I was coming for the second time, making a freaking mess on his c**k. "Coming, Red?" His voice was dark amusement, a smug purr against my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight the overwhelming pleasure, but I couldn't. "Don't you look beautiful like this?" I bit my lip, trying to stifle my moans. He threatened to stop. "Yes," I gasped, my voice wrecked. "So good. I look so good and wet for you." He pulled out abruptly, and I whined. "On your knees," he commanded. I obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the bed, my breath still shaky. He smirked as he leaned in, wrapping a fist in my hair, tilting my head back to force me to meet his gaze. His other hand pressing into my waist. "This," he murmured, his voice deep and filled with satisfaction. "This is the look. It suits you even better." Before I could respond, he thrust inside me again, rough and deep. My body jolted forward, almost lying on the bed. My hands grasping at the sheets as he set a punishing rhythm. I hated how much I needed it. How much I needed him. I tried to bury my face in the pillows but his grip was firm on my hair. His other hand grabbed my arm, pulling it backwards, keeping me where he wanted. "That's it," he growled. "Come for me. Be a good girl and come." And I did. Helplessly and shamefully. It crashed through me, humiliatingly shattering.