The mafia boss owns me

CHAPTER 4

The warehouse had quieted down after the chaos, a thick uneasy quiet that clung to the air like smoke residue after a fire, no more shouting, no more drawn guns. Only the low hum of men cleaning up, metal scraping against concrete, and the faint smell of gun oil hung in the air.

A few overturned crates lay cracked open across the floor, their contents spilled and trampled. The flicker of a damaged overhead light cast long, broken shadows that shifted with every movement. Somewhere in the distance, a pipe dripped steadily, the sound almost mocking in its rhythm as if counting down the seconds before something else went wrong.

The aftermath of violence always had a strange kind of calm

Upstairs, in a glass walled office overlooking the entire operation floor. Enzo Deluca sat on his office chair fingers tapping the desk, his jacket off, hung neatly over the back of his chair, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing forearms marked with veins. Calm. Unhurried. Dangerous in the way a storm looks peaceful from far away.

Across from him, Riley sat on the edge of the guest chair. Her knuckles were scabbed, a bruise curling along her jaw, lips red from blood stains, but she looked anything but broken. Her blue eyes burned with that familiar mix of pride and irritation.

“So,” Enzo began, voice smooth and steady, “you thought you were robbing common thieves. Wrong intel??”

Riley gave a dry laugh, the sound sharp. “Yeah, That’s what I was told. My boss, he, said it was a small job. Easy hit, no heat.”

Enzo tilted his head slightly, studying her. “And you didn’t bother to confirm?”

“I don’t usually do fact checking, I just do my job, get the intel and leave” she shot back, defending herself, trying to mask shame with pride. “Besides, I’ve handled much worse. Or so I thought.” she concluded the last part under her breath

His mouth curved, not quite a smile, but close. “And now you stumbled onto 'I Senza Volto'.”

“Yeah.” She met his gaze without blinking. “Who'd have guessed, although if I'd known I was stepping into the mafia's business, I'd never had dared.”

Enzo observed her, his calm demeanor hadn’t shifted an inch, but there was something sharp in his silence he pushed off to the edge of his chair, his presence pressing against her like a tide.

“You think your survival depends on your sources,” he said finally, voice low but carrying.

She opened her mouth, forming an hesitant I-

“You’re wrong. He cuts her off smoothly.

His words clean and cold.

"Your survival depends on me. The silence that followed was absolute, the kind that made every breath sound too loud.

Enzo’s eyes, dark as wet coal, fixed on hers with quiet intensity. “You answer to me now. Which means when your intel fails, I decide if you live long enough to fix it.”

The two men standing by the door shifted uneasily, It wasn’t often he'd speak to just anyone, much less a woman who had just tried to rob him.

Her breath was caught in her throat, but she forced a reply nonetheless “So what now? I’m just supposed to take orders from you now? I'm just supposed to follow blindly?”

Enzo’s lips curved in that faint, infuriating smile. “Not blindly. Smartly. Learn to tell good information from bad. Learn who to trust. And above all” His eyes locked with hers, cool and unyielding. “Learn that in my world, excuses are worthless. Only results matter.”

Riley tilted her head slightly, her bruised jaw catching the dim light. “You talk like you own the city.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I own the part that matters.”

The simple certainty in his tone sent a chill through her.

“You have guts,” he said quietly. “ Most people who hear our name wouldn't be able to keep eye contact, still because of you, my money was stolen today, it was a huge deal, I had to show up personally, you are still unbothered

Riley smirked, blood on her lip. “I guess I’m not ‘most people'

For a long moment, silence hung between them. Enzo’s gaze held hers, and something unreadable passed in his eyes, admiration, perhaps, or curiosity. Then he sighed and straightened.

“I don’t tolerate carelessness,” he said, his tone shifting into command. “But I respect honesty. You were misled. That’s not your sin.”

He turned to the man near the door behind Riley, sitting on the waiting chair, it was the same mighty man who had dragged her earlier. “Vito........ she's one of us now."

But tonight” he looked back at Riley, his voice dropping softer, almost intimate, “she goes home. She rests. And she gets her head straight, straight in the game.”

Riley frowned slightly, unsure if it was an order or mercy. “You’re just letting me walk out?”

Enzo’s black eyes glinted faintly. “You work for me now. I don’t let what’s mine walk away, I send it home.”

There was something possessive in that sentence, not affectionate, but territorial. It made her pulse quicken despite being herself.

Then, without raising his voice, he said, “Get her out of here. Take the car.”

Vito rose immediately and disappeared downstairs.

Riley rose shortly after, her muscles sore, body bruised but spirit unbroken. She casted one last glance at Enzo, still seated, still composed, his gaze following her like a shadow.

For a man who ruled the underworld, he didn’t need to raise his voice to command obedience. Power radiated from him quietly, like heat from a flame.

.....Moments later, the heavy warehouse doors opened under the slow showers of heaven waters, to reveal the car waiting just outside under the lower amber glow of the streetlight a black 2024 Mercedes-Benz S-Class Maybach, long and gleaming, its paint absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The chrome was minimal, the lines smooth and predatory. Inside, the cabin glowed softly with cream leather seats and wood trim and the low hum of the idling engine was almost too quiet for its size, it was power disguised as grace.

The kind of car used by the real bosses of Chicago, not loud, not showy, but a quiet announcement of control and power.

Vito opened the rear door for her. “Boss says home,” he said.

Riley hesitated for just a heartbeat, glancing back at the office above. Through the glass, Enzo was still watching her, calm, collected, unreadable, his interest was at its peak

She slipped into the back seat, the leather cool beneath her hands. The door closed softly, shutting out the warehouse noise. The Maybach glided away from the curb, silent and certain, disappearing into the city.

As they drove off, Riley stared at the tinted windows, watching as rain water slided down the glass, her mind replaying his words:

You work for me now.

For the first time since she’d entered that warehouse, Riley allowed herself to feel something other than fear a flicker of curiosity, maybe even intrigue.

She didn’t know what kind of man Enzo Deluca truly was. But she knew one thing with unsettling clarity:

This was not the end of their story.

It was only the beginning.