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813 Words
No one ever suspected I was the Black Demon, the female serial killer who went after all the
bad guys or girls that preyed on the weak. Since their bodies were never found, no one could pin it on
me. Perks of being a part of the Mafia, you can make anything or anyone disappear.
“You want to go with me?” I ask Ryder, batting my eyelashes.
He snorts, “Hell no. Ask Gage. He lives for that shit.”
“Come on,” I whine. “You're my right-hand man, and you're supposed to do these things for
me.”
He laughs loudly and pushes off the weapons table he was leaning on. “This is what I do as
your right-hand man,” he says, pointing to Todd. “I clean up your kills; I don’t go to galas” he
grimaces at the word gala.
“Fine, be that way,” I say and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Gage and I will have all the
fun” I check my phone for the time “s**t. I have to go.”
He shoos me away. “Go. I got this”
I blow him a kiss and run for the stairs leading me to the main house. “Thank you!”
When Micah realized what I was doing, he built it for me. The door that leads to it inside the
house just looks like a wine cellar when you first enter, with a hidden door. That leads to a hallway
with several doors with fingerprint locks. The last door leads down the stairs to the chamber. My dad
never knew what I did in my free time; Micah found out by accident. Instead of judgment, he made
sure I never got caught.
This was the only way my mind was clear of everything I had ever gone through. I go after the
assholes like the ones who raped and tortured me. Some people go to therapy, and I murder.
As I round the corner into the house, I run into Gage’s chest. “Whoa,” he chuckles, grabbing
my shoulders to steady me.
“Sorry,” I say and take off running again. “I’m late! Gala with me in two weeks, so have a tux
ready!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he yells back.
Gage is not someone you would expect to be involved in the Mafia. Brown thick wavy hair over ice
blue eyes. Perfectly sculpted face. Two diamond studs in each ear. Lean swimmers’ body. Complete
pretty boy. But that’s why he worked as my date for galas. He looked the part of the spoiled rich boy.
No one would ever know this fun-loving guy had a mean streak a mile wide if you pissed him off.
I jump into my black BMW M4, one of the more low-key cars I have, and head to the
restaurant to meet Leo.
*****
“Damn baby, you look gorgeous tonight,” Leo greets with a kiss on the cheek.
I sit in the chair he pulls out for me, waiting for him to do the same “You do too,” I reply,
looking him up and down. Black button-up over black jeans paired with black boots.
I kept my makeup understated tonight, just black eyeliner in my cat eye and some pink lipstick
to make my pouty lips stand out. No foundation for my tan skin, not when I planned to sweat it off.
I slide my black leather jacket off to hang on the back of the chair, and Leo’s eyes zero in
on my cleavage.
He folds his arms on the table, leaning closer. “Are you trying to make my c**k stay hard
through dinner?” he looks me over again. “Because it’s working.”
I giggle and mirror his pose. “I’ll make it all better after dinner,” I say as I move my tank to
the side to tease the edge of my lacey bra.
“f**k” he whispers under his breath.
I move it back into place when the waiter walks up. “Ms. Poletti,” he greets me with a nod
since this is one of the places I frequent, and most people know who I am by reputation. They may not
know exactly who I am, but they know I’m important. It was funny how that level of respect worked. I
grew up here, so most people knew me through my dad, but I made a name for myself.
Sure, there were rumors we were Mafia, but no one could ever prove it. We had legit
businesses everywhere. Restaurants, nightclubs, casinos, you name it, we owned one. We were right
on the beach, so we owned sea charter businesses, too, which is how we filtered in all the illegal
shit.
- Writer
