Mafia Wars: His Sweet Angel

Two Years Later

JASMINE

“You're late!” Freda, my best friend, scolds as she spots me heading towards her.

“Sorry, traffic was horrible,” I say nervously. The loud music in the nightclub and the bodies bumping into us make the whole conversation short.

“C’mon,” she pulls my hand, leading me through the back door to the dressing room.

“Kelvin has been searching everywhere for you.” She says once we get inside. I go ahead to change out of my normal clothes and put on the usual black top and shorts with knee-length boots.

“Why?” I ask, letting my hair out of the ponytail. My once blonde hair is now a black, straight beauty. A lot of things have changed about me, to be honest.

It's been two years since I graduated from high school. I left the little town months later, after having another intense fight with my aunt.

I already saved up enough for the flight from my part-time job. Freda used to live in our neighborhood, but she moved down to New York after graduation.

She'd promised to let me stay with her if I ever made it here.

So when I ran away and took the risk of coming here, she kept her promise, and I've been living with her ever since.

I joined her in this work as a waitress in one of the biggest nightclubs in the city.

My fairytale naive heart has been on the lookout for the stranger who asked me to come here. It's been two years and I still haven't seen him.

Sometimes, I find myself wishing not to ever see him. He had advised me that I lived a decent life.

I felt like I'd disappointed him when I took this job. This place is anything but decent.

It's nice to have a job and support Freda in paying the rent. But deep down, I hate every day I get to work here. This isn't the life I wanted for myself. Working in a nightclub where numerous illegal activities and orgy activities happen.

For a once naive and dreamy girl who just wanted to read books, go to college and travel the world, it sucks that I ended up in such a den. But at least, I've got Freda. That's my biggest consolation.

“He says he needs you to attend to a VIP client,” Freda explains, reapplying her red lipstick and smacking her lips to even the shade.

“What VIP client?” I scoff, taking one last look at the mirror. Kelvin may be our boss, but he's a bit overbearing and very bossy.

He's one of the reasons I find this work very exhausting.

“I don't know. You should go ask him about it.” Freda replies, and then she adds, “Or save yourself the stress because he's right here.”

My eyes dart quickly to the door to find a pissed Kelvin staring at us.

“Get out,” he hisses at Freda. She bows and quickly leaves the room.

I gulp nervously, staring at him. Then I recall staring isn't what I should be doing. I should be apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to be late. I was just—”

“Stupid, incompetent and f*****g annoying. But what's new? I should already be used to it.” He finishes dryly.

His words are painful, but I try to maintain a straight face.

“I'm really sorry…”

“I don't need your sick apologies. Take this.” He stretches out a black mask.

I stare confusedly at it and then at him.

“What…what do I need it for?”

“I still don't understand how you're gonna survive longer in this city with that overcuriosity of yours. It's gonna get you killed soon, mark my words.”

“I'm sorry, Sir. But I really…”

“The only reason you're still working here is because Freda is keeping you here. She's doing some favors that keep me from getting rid of you. Be very grateful to her.”

I take a minute to absorb his words. Freda is doing him favors that are making him not get rid of me yet? What kind of favors?

“Take,” he hisses, forcing the mask into my hand. “You're working on the third floor. If you let your curiosity get the best of you, I can't guarantee you'll make it out there alive…”

Something about the seriousness in his voice makes me pale in fear. He's not just trying to hurt my feelings with his words. They did seem like genuine advice.

“But if you manage to tune it down a bit and just do your work and nothing else, you'll get a 20% raise by the end of the month. It all depends on you, Jasmine.”

I suck in a shaky breath.

“Can't…can't…someone else do this job? Someone more experienced?”

I don't care about the money. I just don't wanna get into any trouble. And it seems trouble is what's waiting for me up there.

“No. This is your chance to prove to me that you're efficient. Now get going.” He finalizes and walks out of the room.

Minutes later, I'm taking the elevator to the third floor while praying my heart out, hoping I survive this. Whatever it is.

I put on the mask, keeping it in place. The door opens, and I step out but halt abruptly. There's a small lineup of burly men guarding a door.

Seeing me, they step aside a bit and open the door. I gulp hard before slowly going inside.

It's like a suite with elegant interior decorations. There are couches, a huge television with an anchorman reading the news, and a small table that has….

“Took you forever to get here,” the man growls. The man on the couch, lying shirtless. He has a pot belly and gray mustache, and in front of him is another table littered with white substances, guns, knives, and…condoms.

My heart sinks in panic. I'm not…I'm not here for that, right? I hope not. I'm just a waitress. If he wanted to be entertained, there are girls for the job, and I'm not one of them.

“Serve me a drink,” he gruffs out, giving me a very lewd stare. His eyes are weary. Like he's high on something.

My wobbly legs lead me to the small bar in the room. I go behind the counter and pour him a glass of tequila with shaky hands.

I find it hard to muster the courage to go over to him. I don't want to. Creating any bit of proximity with him may just be my damnation.

“What's taking you so long? Get over here!” He barks.

“Ye-yes, Sir.” I stutter out, slowly heading towards him. Dropping the glass on the table, I'm quick to move back.

But he grabs my hand, tugging me into himself. He's sitting up now and holding me tightly.

“Please…please, sir, don't..” I break down into tears, struggling to free myself.

“You see that girl over there?” He says, ducking his head in a direction. I look and there's a lifeless female body in the bedroom. The door is open, and her clothes make a little trail on the threshold.

She's lying in the pool of her blood. I gasp quietly, covering my mouth with my other hand.

“She wouldn't satisfy me like I wanted. She didn't plead like you're doing. She just couldn't suck my d**k good. So I shot her brains out.”

Oh, God. My lips quiver harder. Tears clog my vision, and I'm deeply yelling out to the universe for help.

Please save me from this horror. Please!

“So be a good girl and do your job nicely,”

His fingers are digging into my skin, leaving little bloody scratches. He's not in his right mind, and that makes the situation even riskier.

“Please…” I dare to say again.

“Here,” he grins like a buffalo, unzipping his fly with his free hand. He takes out his d**k, and I quickly look away, shutting my eyes.

My sobs are harder to muffle, but they turn into a shriek as he grabs my face, forcing me to look at him.

“Would you rather I blow your brains out, too? Take me!” He grates out, forcing my head down.

“Please!” I yell, between his thighs, struggling to keep my lips from touching his erect, wet flesh.

“Do it, dammit!!” He grabs my chin, forcing my mouth open and aiming to thrust his d**k into my mouth.

A silent whoosh sound follows, and blood pumps out of his forehead. I yell frantically, crawling away from him. From his lifeless body on the couch.

Where…..what just…Oh, God!! My thoughts are all over the place. I can't seem to align my thoughts, and my heart is brutally thudding against my chest.

The silent footsteps behind me leave me sickeningly pale. Slowly, I turn around, and there's a masked, tall figure approaching him.

Holding a gun in one hand and a little briefcase in the other. It was a male. Had to be. Definitely.

But…How…how did he get in here??

He gets closer to the lifeless body, crouching in front of it. He takes out a file and places it on the table. Then he drags one of the man's hands, wraps it around a pen, and scribbles on the paper.

“There you go, mate.” A deep, resonating voice reverberates through the room. “Now you can go get your d**k sucked in hell.”

He returns the file to the suitcase and stands. I gasp loudly as his gaze finds me. He watches me intently, those eyes boring, terrifying holes in me.

Hazel…eyes. Or is it just the lighting in the room giving it a gold glint?

He takes a step closer, and I shudder, moving back. He stops, still staring at me.

“Use the backdoor. And don't ever say a word about this.” He says, gesturing at a door at the far end.

My teeth clatter in fear, but I manage to nod. His long strides lead him to the window, and he jumps down.

Staring at the horrific mess, I struggle to keep myself from panicking. Slowly, I get on my feet, racing for the door. Hoping to get away from here unscathed.

I'm never returning to this nightclub!!