Mafia's Collateral Women

Chapter 4

As we disembark from the jet, the darkness outside contrasts sharply with the jet's interior lights. Duron efficiently gathers my belongings while I notice the distinctive red Ferrari parked nearby, undoubtedly Ace's choice of transportation. Other guards emerge from the black Rolls Royce SUVs, adding to the security presence.

Intent on retrieving my belongings, I head towards the SUV, but Ace's voice cuts through the air, demanding my attention. Ignoring his grumpy ass, I continue towards my destination, but before I can reach it, he forcefully pushes me against the vehicle, his grip tightening around my throat.Struggling to breathe, I feel the pressure building as he lifts me slightly off the ground. Eventually, he releases his hold, and I crumple to the ground, rubbing my throat to soothe the pain. Suppressing the urge to cry, I meet his gaze defiantly as he leans in close, his words a chilling warning against any further defiance. Never disrespect me infront of my men again or your f*****g punishing will be worse.

He extends his hand to help me up, but I refuse to take it. Despite my resistance, he insists, grabbing my hand firmly and pulling me towards his car. Glancing back at James and Duron, I'm met with their avoidance, their silence speaking volumes. It's a stark reminder that I'm truly alone in this situation, and I must now switch into survival mode. Reluctantly, I enter the car and fasten my seatbelt as Ace starts the engine. His tone shifts to a calmness that borders on unnerving as he lays down his expectations. He demands respect, eye contact, and obedience, particularly in front of his men. With a soft acknowledgment, I assure him that I understand, hoping to calm the situation.

As he queries about my well-being, I offer a simple "I'm fine," not wanting to provoke further confrontation. With the flip of a switch, he turns on rock music, belting out lyrics as if nothing happened. Watching him, I can't help but wonder about his volatile nature. As the car speeds towards our destination, I silently pray for my father to secure the money we need. Sending a quick text to him, I informed him of our arrival and our impending journey to the house.

As the Ferrari glides through the imposing gate, my eyes widen at the sight of the expansive property enclosed by a towering brick fence. Its height, reaching a formidable eight feet, conveys a sense of exclusivity and protection. Embellished with a majestic gold gate bearing an ornate cursive "J," it hints at the opulence that lies within. Driving along the winding driveway, I notice the vigilant presence of armed men patrolling the grounds. Their stern expressions and formidable weaponry serve as a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this world.

Finally, we arrive at the mansion, a grand structure crafted from a blend of brick and stone. Its sheer size dwarfs anything I've ever seen, making my own home seem like a mere cottage in comparison. As we park the car, Ace's nonchalant gesture of tossing the keys to a waiting figure outside only adds to the surreal atmosphere. Exiting the vehicle, I take in the sight of the sprawling mansion before me, feeling a mix of awe and trepidation. This is my new home now, whether I like it or not. Turning to face Ace, I force a tight-lipped smile, masking the unease churning within me.

As Ace takes my hand, a shiver runs down my spine, the memory of his earlier aggression lingering like a shadow. Reluctantly, I follow him into the mansion, feeling the weight of his grip, wary of any signs of hostility.

Inside, we're met by his staff, a distinguished older gentleman named David and a warm, motherly figure named Kerri. David exudes an air of authority with his impeccable suit and dignified demeanor, while Kerri's cheerful presence and vibrant red curls add a touch of warmth to the atmosphere. With a gracious smile, Ace proceeds to introduce them. "This is David," he begins, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "He's been a loyal member of our staff for generations, a true cornerstone of our household."

Turning to Kerri, Ace's tone softens. "And this is Kerri, our esteemed head cook," he continues, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's the culinary genius behind the delectable delights that grace our table." Kerri's cheeks flush with modesty as Ace praises her, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Oh, stop it, Ace," she protests playfully, though her grin betrays her pleasure at the compliment. "You're too kind." "David, Kerri," he addresses them, his voice commanding attention. "This is Miss Victoria. She'll be staying with us for a while. Please treat her with the respect she deserves." David and Kerri nod in acknowledgment, their expressions conveying a blend of deference and welcome. It's a small gesture, but it offers a glimmer of reassurance in this unfamiliar environment.

As Ace leads me through the opulent corridors of the mansion, I can't shake the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage. His voice breaks the silence as he offers to show me around, his words ringing hollow against the backdrop of my unease.

"We'll start with the grand living room," he announces, gesturing toward the expansive space before us. My eyes sweep over the marble statues and the pristine white and gold decor, a sight so immaculate it seems more like a museum exhibit than a living space. It's a room frozen in time, devoid of any signs of life, as if daring anyone to disturb its flawless facade. Next, we venture into the game room, a sprawling expanse filled with every form of entertainment imaginable. My gaze flits from the pool table to the pinball machines, each corner of the room housing a new diversion. The walls are adorned with colossal TVs, ready to immerse players in a world of digital fantasy.

Moving on, Ace leads me to a room adorned with a full bar, its shelves stocked with an array of spirits gleaming under the ambient lighting. "This is our meeting room," he declares, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Or drinking room, depending on your perspective."

Finally, we arrive at the theater room, its plush recliners beckoning invitingly. The air is heavy with the promise of cinematic escapism, the massive screen looming before us like a portal to another realm. For a moment, I find solace in the prospect of losing myself in a movie, a temporary reprieve from the harsh reality of my surroundings.

As we venture into the music room, a symphony of classical instruments greets us, each one poised for a moment of creative inspiration. My eyes light up at the sight of the grand piano and the elegant array of classical instruments adorning the room. Releasing Ace's hand with a burst of excitement, I rush over to the cello, my fingers itching to pluck its strings. As I adjust its tuning, lost in the familiar ritual of preparation, Ace watches on with a bemused expression, curiosity evident in his gaze.

"Do you play?" he inquired, his voice tinged with genuine interest. With a nod and a smile, I admit my proficiency with both the piano and the cello, confessing a particular fondness for the latter. Seizing the opportunity to showcase my skills, I launch into the iconic melody of the "Game of Thrones" theme, each note resonating with a sense of power and intrigue. Ace's reaction is immediate, his admiration evident as the melody fills the room. "I love that show," he remarks, though his critique of its ending draws a chuckle from my lips. As he praises my performance, I share the story of my musical journey, tracing its origins back to my childhood and a mischievous whim that led me to the cello. How in school I had to play a classical instrument so I picked the cello because I was so small I thought it would be funny. He laughs.

With a gentle reminder of his pet name for me, Ace extends an invitation, declaring the music room as a sanctuary open to my whims. Ignoring his playful use of the word "princess," I redirect the conversation. Can you play any instrument? Chuckling at the notion, Ace admits he has no music talent, though he humorously notes James's modest skills with the flute. With a renewed grasp of my hand, we continue our tour, traversing the halls until we reach Ace's office. The room exudes an air of authority, its expansive layout punctuated by a grand desk and plush seating arrangements. A discreet bar in the corner adds a touch of luxury to the professional ambiance.

Our journey culminates with a visit to the library, a haven of knowledge and tranquility. Stepping into the room, I'm enveloped by the scent of aged parchment and the sight of towering bookcases, each one brimming with literary treasures. In the center of it all, a crackling fireplace beckons, casting a warm glow over the inviting couch and scattered desks—a sanctuary for the mind and soul.

As Ace leads me through the mansion, we bypass the intriguing door adjacent to the library, its mystery lingering in the back of my mind. Instead, we traverse through another wing, passing by the bustling dining room and the aromatic kitchen, where the staff and men reside. Glancing out the windows as we stroll, my eyes widen at the sight of the expansive outdoor area, complete with a shimmering pool, a bubbling hot tub, an inviting outdoor bar, and a crackling fire pit. The prospect of leisurely afternoons spent lounging by the pool fills me with excitement.

Ascending to the next level, Ace gestures toward the expansive floor reserved for James and his parents. He explains that my parents often reside here, though their presence is sporadic due to my father's ongoing medical treatments. Despite their absence, the thought of being closer to them brings a sense of comfort amidst the unfamiliarity of my surroundings.

As Ace leads me to the third floor, he swings open a hefty wooden door, revealing his own room. Stepping inside, I'm met with a palette of somber grays and blacks, an aesthetic clearly tailored to suit his taste. My gaze is drawn to a spacious balcony offering a serene view of the sprawling gardens below, a stark contrast to the darkness within.

He leans in, attempting to capture my lips in a kiss, but I instinctively pull back. "Ace, can you show me where my room is?" I ask, hoping to redirect his attention. With a smirk, he gestures around us. "You're standing in it," he replies casually. I shake my head, firm in my refusal. "No, Ace. I will not stay in your room. I have not given you any clue that I like you like that, so please stop making advances on me. I am not one of your trashy whores you pick up," I assert, my tone laced with frustration.

He chuckles dismissively, his confidence unwavering. "Okay, okay. But give it time, and you will be wanting me," he retorts, his cockiness evident. My eyes narrow at his arrogance. "Ace, did you forget that all I am is collateral for your business deal?" I reminded him pointedly, my voice tinged with exasperation. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, there's a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "You are more than that. You will see," he responds cryptically, leaving me to ponder his enigmatic words

Ace leads me to the room adjacent to his own, presenting it as a suitable guest room. Stepping inside, I'm greeted by a much brighter atmosphere compared to his own quarters. The walls are painted in a soothing light gray hue, and a stately four-poster wooden bed adorned with maroon bedding dominates the space.

Exploring further, I find a vanity, a spacious walk-in closet, and a well-appointed bathroom, all contributing to the room's inviting ambiance. “Thank you Ace for the room, this will work for me.” Ace remarks that he'll have the staff bring my luggage and adds if you get scared at night remember my door is always open. Suppressing an eye roll, I nod in acknowledgment, ready to settle into my new surroundings.

I lower myself onto the bed, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon me. Just then, the door creaks open, and I rise to my feet as Duron enters. "Here is your luggage, Miss Victoria," he announces, gesturing towards the suitcases. "And let me introduce you to Sam. He will be your bodyguard now and will be with you at all times." My laughter bubbles up, tinged with anger. "Duron, I do not need a bodyguard," I assert firmly, my frustration evident in my tone.

"I am sorry, Miss Victoria. It's Ace’s orders," Duron explains apologetically, his expression reflecting his reluctance to defy his superior. Rolling my eyes, I scoff at the idea. "He must be so afraid of me running away," I remark sarcastically, a mixture of annoyance and amusement coloring my words. Duron simply shrugs in response before exiting the room, leaving Sam behind. As I size up Sam, I take note of his appearance—tall, with dark blonde hair and warm brown eyes. There's a familiarity about him, reminiscent of Duron, albeit with a different hair color. I can't help but notice the wedding ring adorning his finger.

"Miss Victoria, is there something I can do to help?" Sam inquires politely, breaking the silence that hangs between us. I shake my head, dismissing the offer. "No, Sam, there is nothing I need from you. I can unpack myself. You can leave," I reply, the firmness in my voice conveying my independence. "Okay, Miss Victoria. I’ll be outside your room if you need me," Sam assures me before exiting, leaving me alone once more to grapple with the unsettling reality of my new circumstances.

I meticulously arrange my belongings in my new room, carefully placing my makeup and perfume on the vanity and arranging my books on the nearby table. As I start to unpack my clothes, hanging up each garment with precision, I'm interrupted by Ace's sudden appearance. "Have you not learned how to knock?" I inquire sharply, meeting his gaze with a hint of annoyance. Ace chuckles in response. "Victoria, this is my house. There's no reason to knock," he quips, his eyes scanning the items I'm arranging. His hand reaches for one of my thongs, and he holds it up with a smirk. "Oh, this is nice to see," he remarks, his tone teasing. Snatching the thong from his grasp, I shot him a stern look. "Can you please give me some privacy and not touch my things, especially my underwear?" I retort, my voice tinged with irritation. His laughter fills the room as he playfully responds, "You call that underwear? There's little to no material on that string." Rolling my eyes, I finish organizing my clothes, eager to put an end to the exchange.

Standing up, I address Ace once more. "What do you want?" I inquire, a hint of fatigue evident in my voice. "I just came in to say goodnight. It's two in the morning," he replies casually, already turning to leave. Interrupting his departure, I call out to him. "Hey Ace," I say, catching his attention once more. "Do you really think it's necessary for Sam to be with me at all times, especially on your property? Are you that worried I'll run away?" My words hang in the air, waiting for his response.

With a smirk, Ace dismisses my concerns. "Oh, Princess, you wouldn't be able to run away even if you tried. I've got too many men posted everywhere. Also, you'd have one hell of a punishment," he declares confidently. "But I'll tell Sam to distance himself." With that, he exits the room, leaving me to ponder the unsettling implications of his words. I change into my pajamas and go to bed. I take one of my pills for nerves. My body is still sore and my throat still hurts from being choked. I slowly fall asleep.