The CEO Don's Secret Mistress

SIENNA Early 2024... I pressed my hands against the bar counter, trying to steady myself for the storm that was yet to come. The music was deafening—people losing themselves on the dance floor, flashing lights, and the stench of alcohol—but none of it mattered. All I could think about were my younger brother’s hospital bills… and the bookstore my mom once managed—the last piece of her legacy—now hanging by a thread because of my father’s debts. Ever since Mom died, everything fell apart. Dad turned to gambling, chasing luck he never had, and ended up losing everything. He even borrowed millions from an underground casino—money belonging to a Mafia Don feared throughout Illinois. Now, we couldn’t even live in peace. Every day felt like waiting for the inevitable—waiting for his men to show up and collect the money owed. Where could I possibly find that kind of money? The business was gone, the house was half a step away from foreclosure, and my brother’s medical bills kept piling up. I was running out of options—out of time. Even if I worked a dozen part-time jobs, it would never be enough. My phone buzzed inside my clutch. Dad’s name flashed on the screen. Taking a steadying breath, I answered. “Dad.” “It’s getting late. Where are you?” His voice carried a trace of worry. “I won’t be home tonight,” I lied quietly. “I’m with Alice. We’re having a group study at a friend’s place.” My fingers trembled as I said it. It was the first time I’d ever lied to him, and guilt sat heavy in my chest. But I didn’t have a choice. He didn’t need to know that I was about to do something desperate—something I never imagined I’d be capable of. After a few brief words, the call ended. I stared at my phone for a moment before tucking it back into my clutch. Then I straightened up and forced myself to breathe. I had to do this. My eyes scanned the bar, searching for a glimpse of opportunity—or maybe a way out. And then, I finally saw the man I was waiting for hours. The bar seemed to shrink the moment he walked in. Dark hair slicked neatly back, sharp suit, features so striking that they almost looked sculpted. The way he moved—calm, purposeful—made the air around him shift. Lorenzo Moratti. One of Chicago’s most powerful and feared men. Even his name was enough to silence a room. He passed by me without a glance, flanked by his bodyguards, and headed straight to his private lounge. My chest tightened. I told myself to focus on the reason I was here—but when our eyes met, even briefly, something in his gaze made my pulse trip over itself. I tore my eyes away and took a deep breath. My palms were damp. My heart, racing. I could still walk away. But then I thought of my brother—his weak smile, his trembling hands hooked to IVs—and I knew I couldn’t. So I stood up and walked toward the private lounge with my legs unsteady beneath me. Just one step inside, I told myself, and all my problems could be over. When I reached the entrance, two tall, broad men blocked my path. “Who are you? This lounge is off-limits,” one of them said. My throat felt dry. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Then, from inside, a calm, deep voice broke the tension. “Let her in.” The guards stepped aside that instant, and I slipped through before I could change my mind. The door shut behind me, muffling the noise of the bar. The air inside was cooler, quieter—thick with the faint scent of whiskey and smoke. Lorenzo Moratti sat on the couch, his posture relaxed but radiating authority. He didn’t look up right away; his fingers rolled the glass between them, making the amber liquid glistened bythe light. When his gaze finally lifted, it hit me like a current—sharp and electrifying. My heart stuttered. He was even more intimidating up close. His presence filled the room in a way that made it hard to breathe. “Are you the one sent by the manager?” His tone was smooth, detached. I swallowed hard. “No.” His brow rose slightly. “You’re not the companion I was expecting?” “I’m not.” His hand stilled on the glass. Those dark eyes locked onto me. “Then what are you doing here, bella?” My fingers trembled, but I hid them behind my back. “I came to see you, Mr. Moratti.” He gave a faint, almost dangerous smile. “See me? Do I know you?” “No,” I said softly, meeting his gaze. “But I know who you are.” That earned me a longer look—like he was peeling away every layer I had. “And what exactly do you want from me?” My chest rose and fell unevenly as I told him directly, “I want to make a deal.” He leaned back, studying me with deep curiosity. “A deal?” I nodded. “I’ll do anything,” I whispered, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Be your woman. Your mistress. Whatever you want. In exchange… I need your help.” For a moment, silence pervaded. The kind that weighs heavy. After a while, he exhaled slowly. The faintest trace of amusement visible in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re offering, bella.” “Maybe not,” I talked back, my composure still in place. “But I don’t have a choice.” His gaze darkened. “What’s your name?” “Sienna Clarke.” “Sienna..” he repeated with a smirk. “Age?” “Eighteen,” I answered, meeting his dark gaze head on. He hummed—a low sound that almost felt like some kind of warning. “Too young to play with fire.” I took a step closer, my heart thundering, but my words were resolute. “Then burn me.” His eyes trailed down my face, my body, then back to my eyes—and something dangerous flickering in them. He set his glass down with a soft click, and rose from the couch. The air seemed to thicken as he moved toward me, and every instinct in my body tensed with anxiousness. I know that once he reached me, there would be no turning back. Did I really made the right decision?