Mafia Boss's Secret Wife

Going to parties was definitely not my kind of thing, but when you are a professional dancer who lives off of these kinds of gigs, you can’t just say no when you are invited to the Bechtel’s domain. The only thing you could say out loud was: what kind of performance do you want, sir? “You look like a whore.” The comment came so suddenly that I was not even sure if I heard it correctly, if I imagined it or if the words came out of my boyfriend's mouth. The man was standing behind me, leaned against the doorframe, his dull brown eyes pinning me down, displeased by my outfit, by my make up, by the way my hair was pinned so carefully with feathers etched at the headband that tames some of the curls. “Since when are you this mean?” I ask, slightly unphased by his words. I was a bit too busy to care. “Since you have been dedicating your whole damn time to do this!” He hissed through gritted teeth. I have never taken Joshua for a violent man, but the way he tensed, the way that little muscle hammered in his jaw, the way his fists were balled up, made me a little fidgety. I roll my eyes and tuck the bright red rouge in my purse. “You’re being delusional.” I huff and get up from my little vanity, giving my curls another brush with my fingers. “I need this gig. I need the money. No one has ever paid this much for -“ “That’s the problem Persephone!” The man hisses and throws his arms up in frustration. “This much money involve s*x!” He spits the words with so much hate I am afraid it might stain my dress. I walk past him and pat his chest in a rushed way, while I head for the door. “There will be hired prostitutes there too. I am a dancer. I am a performer. Me and my girls are there to provide different entertainment.” I speak as I pull my dancing shoes on. “I’ll see you when I come back.” “You’ll not be seeing me.” He growls and something inside of me needs a moment to process this. I now notice by the door the bags that he had packed. Was I caught up in getting ready that I didn’t notice he was getting ready to leave?! “It’s me, or dancing, Persephone!” He growls and I straighten myself. “You’re insane if you think I’m giving up everything I have worked for all these years, only to satisfy your ego!” I bark back and grab my keys. “If you dare to make such ultimatums, you’d better not be here when I come back!” I yell and slam the door behind me, as I rush to my car. I did not have time to think of this! I did not have time to deal with a man-child right now! I needed the gig. I needed the money. And this was a great opportunity to be seen and land more gigs! By the parking lot, Karina, my best friend, the one and only supporter I have still alive, waits for me with a smirk on her face. She had gotten all the extra outfits for the night and not just that, she was my partner in crime. She was the one to talk me into this in the first place, and I have a feeling this was exactly what my little studio needed to grow its wings! By the time we get to the Bechtel estate, the whole thing with Joshua has completely dissolved from my mind. And after the first performance, the anxiety and rush of joy that courses through me is enough to make me forget any other worry. I escape the fuss, the loud swing music, the whole cacophony of sounds by slipping through the staff only doors and making my way to one of the private bathrooms. I stop to look at myself in the mirror and give myself a big wide smile. My cheeks were flushed, my lipstick was still bright and shining, my dark green eyes shimmery and full with excitement. I drop my purse on the counter and walk into the toilet stall. I barely get to pull my panties off when a very insistent knock echoes through the bathroom, right at the door of my stall. My heart skips a beat, but the surprise is surely replaced by a bit of anger. "Give me a minute!" I hiss through my teeth, but the knocking doesn't stop. On the contrary. It turns more aggressive, harsher, more insistent and I pull up my underwear and fix my dress, clicking my tongue in annoyance. "If you'd have more patience, you'd notice it would -" I start talking as I unlock the door and open it,but I swallow my words as the person in front of me, steps forward abruptly, forcing me back into the stall, my back pressing against the cold material of the wall. A cold shiver rushes through me and the annoyance from earlier turns to a little bit of fear. The person in front of me was a towering figure. I feel like a damn child in front of them. At first, through the dim light, all I see is the awfully expensive three piece tailored suit. My face barely reaches the man's chest. Greedy hands rest on my body, one on my hips and the other on my waist, griping at my flesh tightly, eager to find the zip of the dress and make their way underneath it. "I'm sorry -" I rush the words, startled, while I try to clear my head and come back to my senses. My hands push against the strangers chest, fingers pressing harshly against what feels like a damn warm wall. His chest was harsh, so harsh that I'm not sure if I am hallucinating everything or not. "Be mine for the night, pretty thing." the man's voice makes itself heard. A low growl, almost inhuman,right by my ear, his warm breath falling right against my skin, turning it into goosebumps. The words drip with passion and lust and I can't help the fact that my body reacts by instinct, my n*****s perking harshly, pressing against the material of the dress in an almost teasing way. The hand on my waist grips harshly at my dress, and I hear the seams protest because of the tension. The rush of mindless excitement is immediately replaced by a sense of pride. "Mister -" I hissed the word through my lips. I didn't see his face. I didn't see a name tag. But I still had to be respectful. "There are hired women exactly for this kind of entertainment!" I inform him, adamant to get him away from me. "Please go ahead and feel free to make such indecent prepositions to them!" I huff and slam my hand into his chest. But the man doesn't move. In fact, the hit I land doesn't do anything but send a painful shockwave back in my body, making me grunt in frustration. " I'll make sure to double your pay." he insists, his lips brushing against the lobe of my ear, while the hand on my hip, lowers to my thigh, grabbing at the sheer tights I'm wearing, ripping them, only to grab at my flesh harshly, trying to force my leg around them. The hammering of my heart is loud enough to cover every other sound that slips in the bathroom. All but the sound of his heavy breathing. In the haze of the moment, the adrenaline forces me to do things I didn't know I was capable of. My hands come together in a fist and with all the power I have, in the little space between us, I swing right in the man's crotch. For a moment, it almost seems as if there was no reaction. But his breath hitches in his chest and a pained groan fills the room. He stumbles backwards, gripping his crotch,finally stepping into the light and giving me a full look on his pain strike face. His eyes are closed, his teeth bared those of an angry wolf. His hair is a raven black color. That was the only feature that stuck to my mind as I slipped out of the stall, grabbed my purse and ran out of the bathroom, leaving the man grabbing his own crotch on the bathroom floor. Maybe Joshua was right… Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Heart pounding, beads of sweat pooling on my forehead, I run back to the ballroom. But as I push the doors open and step inside, I slam into a goddamn wall. Who put a Wall behind the doors?! But this wall has arms, strong arms that reach out immediately and steady me. The force of the impact was harsh on me. Harsh enough to make me dizzy and my knees weak, so I lean all my weight into the arms of the man who caught me. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I mumble, as I try to put myself together, ignore the chaos of scattered thoughts that don't even make sense right now and get back to the party before the next performance. "Persephone!"a very familiar voice covers the mess of thoughts and as I turn my head, I see Karina run straight to me. She stops only a few steps away, a worried expression on her face. " I'm so sorry, Mr. Bechtel! " she exclaims and grabs my arm, pulling me towards her. The steady and strong arms that still hold me don't seem too eager to let go of me just yet. Wait! Mr Bechtel?! My gaze snaps up to the man in front of me, whose gray eyes are pinned on the door behind me, as if he expects some beast to emerge from there. "Was there something chasing you? Why were you running like this?" he asks, his voice low, grave even,sending shivers down my spine. A short yelp escapes me as I realize his gaze moves down to me. I tense all over again as I try to process what I had just done. SHIT! I'm not sure which of the thoughts of having run into the old Bechtel or the young one makes me more terrified. The old man, Arthur Bechtel, was known to be a ruthless mafia boss, with ages of tyranny behind him. A titan in the industry of pharmaceuticals, a demon that lurked into the darkest corners of this country. The old man has killed so many of his rivals that there were Myths around him saying he eats the hearts of his enemies and so much more… And the young one… Thomas Bechtel… Well, let's say the "Like father like son" proverb matches him perfectly. But… Was this the man in question? It couldn't have! Thomas would never get himself involved with those of my kind! "Tom!" a voice from somewhere behind him makes my heart drop in the pits of my stomach. "They are here!" Tom?! Was this Thomas Bechtel?! They who?! What was happening?! From the distance, gunshots pierce through the music which comes to an abrupt stop. Echoes of first gunshot rise along with screams and yells and I now know that Joshua was indeed right. Coming here was a mistake!