She Belongs To The Mafia

Chapter 10

Cherilyn Knight's Point Of View.

The brute, Lucas, left me standing alone in front of a massive wooden door. The air was thick with tension, and my heart pounded so hard in my chest that I was sure anyone nearby could hear it. My mind raced, fear and uncertainty gripping me as I tried to process what was happening. My stomach twisted in knots, a mix of hunger and anxiety clawing at me. Before I could even call out to Lucas, who was already walking away without a second glance, the door in front of me creaked and slowly swung open, revealing a figure inside.

I froze.

There, standing in the doorway, was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. For a moment, I forgot to breathe. Her presence was so commanding that the entire atmosphere shifted around her. She was tall and graceful, with long, dark hair that flowed effortlessly down her back like a river of silk, each strand catching the light as she moved. Her hair framed her face perfectly, accentuating every flawless feature — smooth, porcelain-like skin that seemed untouched by the world’s harshness, high cheekbones that gave her an almost regal appearance, and full lips that held neither a smile nor a frown, just a neutral, unreadable expression but it was her eyes that struck me the most. Those deep brown, almond shaped eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto me the second the door opened. They held no warmth, no kindness — only cold calculation. She studied me with an unnerving calmness, her gaze flickering over me as though she was assessing every inch of my being, weighing me up like a commodity, not a person. I felt exposed under her scrutiny, like she could see through my skin, down to my very soul.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump that had formed in my throat. Her beauty was breathtaking, yes, but it was also intimidating. There was something deeply unsettling about her, something that told me this woman was not to be underestimated.

She moved with an elegance that almost seemed unnatural, gliding across the floor toward me with such precision that it felt rehearsed. Every step she took was deliberate, controlled, as if she always knew exactly where she was going and what she intended to do.

“Chris asked me to educate you. Cherry, right?” Her voice was soft, but there was no kindness in it, only formality.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sound of her speaking. Her tone was not harsh, but it was not welcoming either. There was no doubt in my mind that this woman was used to being in control, and I had the sinking feeling that whatever came next would not be to my liking. I nodded stiffly, unsure of what else to do, my voice caught somewhere in my throat. “Yes,” I managed to say, barely above a whisper. “That’s me, but I don't know anyone named Chris.”

Her perfectly sculpted brow arched slightly, the smallest hint of irritation flashing across her otherwise unreadable face. “I mean the Don,” she corrected, her eyes narrowing just a touch. “I assume that’s how you refer to him.”

Of course. He had yet another name. I almost rolled my eyes, catching myself at the last moment. How many titles did this man have? And what kind of twisted game was he playing, keeping us all in the dark? It seemed like every person in this mansion had a different version of who the Don was. I did not dare voice my frustration, though; not with this woman.

She gestured gracefully toward a lavish sitting area, the fine leather couch looking more like something out of a magazine than a place anyone would actually sit. “Come,” she said, her voice as smooth as her appearance. “We have a lot to discuss.”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether I should even move, but the commanding aura she exuded left me no real choice. I took a few cautious steps forward, my legs feeling heavy and weak. The room itself was grand, like everything else in this cold mansion.

The walls were adorned with expensive paintings, and the floor beneath my feet was polished to perfection. It would have been beautiful, but like the woman in front of me, there was a certain detachment to it, a lack of warmth that left the place feeling hollow.

I sat down slowly, still feeling her eyes on me, watching my every move as if I was under a microscope. She, on the other hand, sat with the kind of poise and grace that only someone in power could have, crossing her legs elegantly and resting her hands in her lap, like royalty. Everything about her screamed control.

“My name is Nicole,” she introduced herself after a brief silence. “I am the Don’s personal assistant. Well, one of his six personal assistants.” There was no pride or arrogance in her tone, only fact. “As you can imagine, he is a very busy man, overseeing his... empire.” The way she said it made me shudder. She was not referring to a business or a company—she was talking about something much darker, much more dangerous.

I tried to focus on her words, but my mind was spinning. How could a man like him—cold, cruel, and manipulative—run such a vast operation with people like her by his side? It made sense, but it also terrified me. If this was just one of his assistants, what did that make him?

Nicole continued, unbothered by my silence. “He sees potential in you, Cherry although i am not sure.” There was no hint of a smile and no warmth in the statement as he looked towards me up and down.

Potential? What kind of potential? Just cold and hard truth.

“ and that is why you are here. He wants you to be... trained.” She further added. I blinked, unable to contain my disbelief.

"Trained?" The word felt foreign in my mouth, like a bad joke that I did not understand.

“Yes,” She said plainly, while her expression was unchanging. “You will be trained for a week.fter that, you will serve him directly.”

I stared at her, the absurdity of it all crashing down on me. How could she speak about this so casually, like it was just another business deal, another task on her to-do list? Did she even realize how twisted this was? Well, the whole thing was ridiculous as well. I could not help it—a small laugh escaped my lips.

Nicole’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened. She was not amused. “What’s so funny?” She asked coldly.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, clearing my throat. “I just... did not expect to hear that.”

“You are a tough case,” She muttered under her breath, clearly irritated, but she recovered quickly, smoothing her expression into one of professional calm.

“As I said, the Don wants you to be his personal servant. Before that can happen, though, I have been instructed to train you for a week.”

“A week?” I repeated, feeling like this whole situation was spiraling out of control. “Why does he need me as his servant when he has six personal assistants already?”

Nicole’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t compare yourself to us,” She snapped. “We were chosen for our skills, our intelligence, our value. You are here to serve, nothing more. Do not mistake your role for ours.”

I clenched my teeth, biting back a retort. It was clear she saw herself as superior, and I was not in any position to argue. Still, it stung.

“After your training,” she continued, her voice regaining its calmness, “you will meet the Don in his office. He will be back in a week, and he will want to see you then.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “...but before we get to that, let’s start with the most interesting part.”

My heart skipped a beat. “...and what part is that?” I asked while my voice was barely a whisper.

Nicole’s smirk grew wider, more ominous. “That,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint, “is something you will find out soon enough.”