FOREVER THE MAFIA'S DOLL

DOMUS VITALE

Madam Granforte, as she insisted we call her, was a tall, chubby woman, probably in her late sixties. She was the only one not wearing a mask in the study.

We surrounded her in a semi-circle as she regarded us with sharp eyes.

“Here in Domus Vitale, you serve the Master. His name is of no importance to you, so you must address him as Master.” She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes drifting over our masked faces.

“There are five golden rules to stick to in Domus Vitale. The first is never to ask questions. Second, silence is your first job here, so do not speak to anyone but your superiors.”

She paused near a box with some weird devices. There were ten inside the box with our numbers on each of them.

“Third; do not be seen unless necessary. That means blend with the furniture and do not take off your mask unless Master or I ask you to. Fourth; do not speak of anything within this household to outsiders. Fifth; never cross paths with Master unless designated. Understood?”

We all nodded. It felt like my colleagues were better acquainted with Domus Vitale and its rules because they all stood straight and ready to work.

“Um…I have a question, Madam Granforte.” I spoke out courageously, raising a hand.

“Your punishment, Number 9 is to stand on that spot for an hour. I remember saying, no questions and silence.”

At that moment, I developed a sudden hatred for that woman. I hated this household already. It seemed like a cult and I already had enough experience to back out on time.

“I want to quit.” That drew the attention of my colleagues as they turned to me sharply. But they didn't say a word.

“I believe your friend had warned you that there's no backing out once you take the card. You cannot quit, Number 9.”

With an air of indifference, she produced a stack of documents from a drawer on the large table.

“Sign these non-disclosure contracts. Then pick a phone from here. This is to converse when necessary. It is monitored and works like a radio. The only number here you are not permitted to converse with is the Number 0.”

“Any rule you break, you face punishment. If you break the fourth rule, you answer to Master. Now, your job is to clean this residence. Numbers 1 to 5 are in charge of the North and East wing. 6 to 10, take the South and West Wing. I am in charge of the Master’s quarters and food. Nobody is allowed there.”

She distributed the contracts to each person apart from me and they signed it wordlessly. This life was getting too suspicious for my liking. It felt like I was blindly walking into a life service, but I couldn't turn back.

When they all left, Madam Granforte stalked towards me, circling me like a predator.

“Miss Kensington, will you be a problem here?”

“No…no, Madam Granforte.” I managed. My heart was beating at a crazy rate and I could feel sweat running down my temple. This was no ordinary cleaning job.

“I have dealt with your kind. Do not make an example for your colleagues. Domus Vitale pays more than any job out there, but you must stick to the rules. It's that simple.”

She handed me the document and a pen.

“Sign, Number 9.”

“Please, I don't want to work here.”

“You will be terminated after a year of service or if you keep breaking rules, then you will be free.”

“I didn't know this would be like —”

“I don't have all day. Sign it and remain here for two hours as your punishment. I will advise you to use that time and go over the contract.” Then she slipped her hand into my pocket and took my phone.

“No phones allowed in here.”

°°°°°

Seventy-five minutes later,

“...three hundred and forty-two, three hundred and forty-three.” I finished, my throat parched.

My knees hurt and I cursed myself for dropping out of yoga. After an hour of going through the contract, I resigned to my fate; a prisoner. That was when I started counting the books in the study.

There were a million things I would say to Valerie when next I saw her and one of them would be to strangle her.

“Just you wait, Val. For getting me into this devilish household, I will cut off your fingers and feed them to—”

A clearing of throat interrupted me and I turned swiftly.

Now, in all my life, I have met a few powerful people. When I was seventeen, I had the opportunity to pass by the president of the United States of America. Darn it, I had seen power and wealth, but what I saw now was dangerous. Lethal.

This was a god. A king. Raw, powerful, and ruthless.

Before me stood six feet or was it a seven, muscular yet lanky man dressed in a charcoal black suit. He wore a black mask with a silver inscription on the forehead, a silver mini mask. His hands were gloved and his eyes the most rare color ever.

Suddenly, my observations and moment of glee were cut short by a sharp pain in my back and knees, forcing me to kneel. I cried out but a hand slapped my mouth shut and forced me to look at the marble floor.

“I'm sorry, Master. She only just started today.” I could hear Madam Granforte, her voice squeaky with panic.

Fear suddenly enveloped me. If the high and mighty patron could be scared of this Master, who was he?

There was a moment of stifling silence, and then the hand that held my head suddenly freed me.

“Leave the premises, Number 9. Return tomorrow morning by 5.” Madam Granforte ordered, her tone sharp.

I quickly scrambled up, clumsily. I ran out without looking up, not wanting to bear his wrath. For some reason, I knew I had narrowly escaped something.