Chosen By The Mafioso

03

Sophia

"Hello, my dear," he said, his Italian accent unmistakably pronounced. "I'll have the same as yesterday, a cappuccino."

"Okay, sir, I'll order it," I said, about to leave when he grabbed my arm, sending shivers down my spine.

The situation was strange, especially considering he seemed extremely rich, handsome, and mysterious. What could he want with a simple café attendant? I couldn't understand.

"What's your name?" he asked, intimidated.

"My name?" I asked, not understanding. "Sophia."

"Sophia..." he asked again, insisting on knowing my last name.

"Walker. Sophia Walker," I replied.

"Thank you, Sophia, please go get my coffee."

I nodded and left with his order. I was scared, as the man's aura gave me feelings of fear and intimidation.

When I returned with the cappuccino, the man was no longer there.

I found it super strange, but didn't think too much of it. Customers often left without even eating; it was just another part of my tiring day-to-day routine.

I needed to keep working, but I couldn't help but wonder why he had asked for my name.

That simple interaction was starting to bother me, but I knew I didn't have time to dwell on it now. With a sigh, I returned to work, serving other customers and clearing tables, while the mystery of that man continued to linger in my mind.

The day dragged on slowly, and I dealt with unbearable customers. Dealing with the public was one of the worst experiences in this world, I assure you, and the worst part was having to endure their insults in silence.

I caught the bus that passed near the trailer, and from there, I walked to the trailer. It was a bit of a long walk.

On the way, I thought about my parents. For a long time, I blamed myself, thinking the fault was in me, that no one wanted me.

I was never adopted, and at eighteen, I was thrown onto the streets, forced to fend for myself. My luck was an elderly lady who had worked there throughout my stay at that damn orphanage. She had no children of her own, and she took me in exchange for some help because she was already old.

I liked it there; it was nice to watch TV with her, sew, and chat. She was like a grandmother to me. When Mrs. Dias passed away, I had to leave that house, and my heart ached. Once again, I was alone. That's when I got this job through her niece's recommendation and managed to afford the trailer, the only thing I could afford.

The worst part of being an orphan and a single woman was that people thought you were at everyone's mercy. Several men tried to abuse me, but I always found a way to protect myself. People humiliated me; it was terrible. I felt worthless.

I walked quickly; it was about three blocks from the bus stop to the trailer, I think.

Furthermore, I felt a slight shiver, as if I were being followed. Not only that, but I looked back, and there was no one there. I continued on my way as usual; tomorrow would bring more of the same. It didn't matter what day it was; I would always be working because there was no one waiting for me at home. Never.

Arriving at the trailer, Gabriel's figure haunted me; he was in front of the trailer.

"Gabriel, hello, what are you doing here?"

"Sophia, I gave you a week to come up with the rent, which is already overdue. But I found someone else who's interested, and she'll pay on time."

"Gabriel, please... I'll be able to get the money next week; I..." I said desperately.

"I'm sorry, Sophia. I apologize. But I need to buy things for my home; this is my income."

I swallowed hard; I knew it wasn't his fault. After all, no one was to blame if I was a messed-up orphan.

I looked him in the eyes and nodded.

"All right, Gabriel. I'll gather my things."

"Sorry, Sophia, I'm really sorry," he said, walking away from me.

How far I had fallen; I didn't even have enough money to pay the rent for a trailer. The money I earned as a waitress wasn't enough to survive.

I sat in front of the trailer and started crying desperately. Why did everything have to be like this?

"I just want to die!" I said out loud.

Suddenly, I felt someone's presence, not just anyone. A deep voice echoed behind me, and I turned, wiping away the tears.

"Dying isn't the solution to everything, Ragazza."

It was him. I looked without understanding anything. He was the blue-eyed man, the mysterious customer. What was he doing here, and how had he followed me?

It couldn't be anything good. I cautiously grabbed a knife that was nearby in the trailer's kitchen and held it up in front of him.

"Get out of here," I said firmly. "You followed me, you psychopath."

My threat with the knife had no effect. He just burst into intense laughter. My God, this can't be happening.

"Do you see that parked car over there? My confidence is in it. If you try anything or try to run, you'll be dead before you even attempt it."

I looked at him, his expression serious, his jet-black hair impeccably groomed, dressed in a black suit.

"What do you want from me? Just let me go, please; I have nothing to offer you."

He looked at me coldly. I should have run, but this man was enormous. If I made one wrong move, he would catch me.

"Mr. Salvatore?" another man approached, and I looked down to see a gun at his waist.

Salvatore? That was his name. I had no idea who this man was.

All I knew was that I needed to get away as fast as possible.

"Speak," he said to the man beside us.

"The car is ready."

"Okay."

"Look, I don't want any trouble; just let me go, and I'll never tell anyone," I said nervously.

"Miss Walker... I'm the one who sets the rules."

The security guard next to him pushed me into the car without restraint, and I couldn't even formulate a sentence. You know that feeling when you're simply in shock? That's how I felt. Salvatore went in the car ahead, and I was in the other one with two brutes.

"If you scream or try anything, you know what will happen," the security guard said, pointing a gun at my waist.

Mentally, I prayed that they wouldn't kill me or do anything to me. I was sweating cold, but I wouldn't just sit here waiting for them to kill me. I started struggling and tried to open the car door and jump while it was moving, but obviously, without success. The man held me, and his arm was bigger than my whole body.

"Where do you think you're going, girl? You belong to Mr. Salvatore now; stay quiet."

My chances of escaping were totally destroyed. He took a rope from somewhere and tied my arms so tightly that it hurt.

"Despite being feisty, she's a hottie," the security guard said, and the other two, the driver.