FOREVER THE MAFIA'S DOLL

HER CELEBRITY CRUSH

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I returned to the present, staring up at him. We were having coffee and biscuits at Pete's Coffee shop and my mind was many miles away.

“You’ve been spacing out since we met this morning, am I that boring?” My heart broke at the sight of his boyish face. He looked anxious, as though he wanted to impress me. Didn't he see that he was way out of my league?

“No, it's not that. I'm just surprised.”

“What's so surprising?” He steepled his long, gloved fingers under his jaw, and leaned down, his cologne making my head swirl.

“You. You're…talking to me. You're Brian Ashford and you're talking to me!” I blurted out.

Way to go, Freya!

Valerie always told me that belittling myself before a man was a turn-off. She was probably right as a frown appeared on this model's face.

“Why can't I talk to you, Freya?”

My heart skipped and my face flooded with color when he said my name. I sighed in shame.

“I mean…you're high and mighty and you're here, having coffee with me.” As I said those words, I realized that I was very lucky. This was like having coffee with your favorite celebrity.

“That's true, kinda. But you're cute and talented. I saw your sketches.” He smiled again, making me believe that his parents had cheated nature. No one had a right to look that good.

Suddenly, I realized what he said. He had seen my sketches! Katie had told me that those drawings deserved to be on the drawing book for kindergarten kids.

“I was just playing around! I mean, I have to be good to work in a fashion house, right?” I laughed drily, looking everywhere but at his face.

“You're right. Those drawings are supposed to be on my Wall of Creatives, not in a handbag at the packaging department.”

I paused, holding my coffee mid-air. Was he joking? Or was this a sick compliment?

“I'm serious, Freya. I came today to fire the manager here. This branch designs the least desirable clothes and has been earning me losses, instead of profits.” He clenched his jaw, his blue eyes growing dark for a second.

“But…we're working. Manager Kim is—”

“Never around. Always throwing parties for his bitches, with my money. “

I sat back in my seat. He looked angry, and this was the first time I had seen him angry. Heck! This was the first time I saw him physically.

“I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm just so mad that we’ve got talent here and yet my money has been going down the drain.”

“Uh…thank you, Sir—”

“Brian. Call me Brian, please.” He smiled softly at that.

“How about you head HR? I need someone with your foresight to find the talent in this firm. I’d bet my favorite yacht that there's a great designer in customer care.” He laughed at his dry joke, and for the first time, I wasn't fixated on his looks. Rather the words ‘head HR’ were on repeat in my head.

“But, you only just met me.”

“Yeah. And I know you can do it. I'm a businessman, Tesoro. I make billion-dollar decisions in a minute.” He winked, making me blush.

Or do you just want to get into my pants?

I thought, sipping my coffee.

“I'm interested in that, but I'm not willing to gamble my business over a one-night stand.”

I spurted out the coffee in my mouth. I had said it out loud!

“Relax, Freya. I won't fire you.” He chuckled, “If you haven't noticed, I'm actually…interested in you. But I'm offering you the job because of your capabilities.” He added quickly.

Before I could reply, his phone rang. That was a welcome break as I recollected myself. Brian Ashford had just admitted to liking me. Wait till Valerie hears this.

“Okay.” He ended the call, after that curt reply. I felt a change in his demeanor though he still looked cheerful.

“Sadly, I have to go. But I want a response by tomorrow.” He smiled, squeezing my hand. He beckoned the waiter over and paid with his credit card before standing.

“I want to see you again, so I'll call you. Goodbye, Miss Kensington.” He said, then kissed the back of my hand.

I was frozen after the contact with those lips. I didn't even know when he left. This had to be a dream or one of my fantasies.

It was almost impossible that my young, handsome, and charming boss would like me.

My thoughts were interrupted by a vibration in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a message that changed my mood entirely.

You're needed at Domus Vitale now. There's been an incident.

°°°°°

The moment the castle came into view, I knew something was utterly wrong. Guards were roaming around, which was against the rules. The house was also extraordinarily quiet.

Don't ask me how, but I knew it.

I walked in gingerly to the study where Madam Granforte had addressed us. I met a great number of workers there too. All dressed in black and masked.

“Psst! Come this way!” A familiar voice whispered behind me, dragging me to a corner. It was Valerie. She was Number 15.

“What's —” Valerie clamped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, and thank God she did because the matron had just walked in.

I wondered what Brian would think of me if he found out I worked in a place this…secretive, for lack of a better word.

“Numbers 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, come with me.” My heart beat faster as we followed her. My inner voice had warned me earlier that it was impossible to come into that household and not get into trouble.

We followed her silently as we climbed the stairs heading towards the West Wing. We stopped before the door leading to the restricted area and Madam Granforte paused.

“Be careful and honest when we go in there.” She was looking straight at me while addressing the rest of us.

She led the way and the first thing I noticed was blood. A lot of blood. The room and everything in it was immaculate white, but the blood had splattered everywhere.

Before us was number 4, or who used to be number 4, a bloody hole on her forehead and brown eyes looking up motionlessly, her mask in her hand.

“If you want to leave here alive, you have to come clean.” The masked man who had welcomed me, the butler, said this and then stepped aside.

I gasped as I saw him again. That artwork. He was dressed in a black suit and black shirt and wearing his black mask. In his hand was a smoking gun and he held a package in his other hand.

He stood up menacingly and slid the package towards us. It stopped at my feet, and I looked down to see something I loathed that sent chills down my body. A sour realization slowly creeps into my bones.

The brown package had a little cut, where a glimpse of white powder peeked through. The contact it made with my feet raised the dust of something I was accustomed to.

Cocaine.

“Who let her in?” the butler asked as Master expertly c****d his gun.

That was when it hit me. What I was running from half my life, the dark part of my life I had tried so much to escape.

I was working for the Mafia.