Her Mafia Lord: A Thrift of Gold
ericparsley29 · Ongoing · 442.5k Words
Introduction
I snapped my eyes open only to realize the gunshot wasn't meant for me. But now, I'm being used as a human shield.
The first thing I saw was a man in all black holding a gun to my face.
He stands gallantly menacing, less than five yards from me. And despite the low light, I can see his shirt is only buttoned halfway as a jacket drapes loosely over his broad shoulders.
He is like Hades in a shirt.
"Answer me, motherfucker! Or I swear I'll kill her!" Blondie yelled, jabbing his gun at me and pulling me closer to shield himself.
"Who the fuck are you!"
The stranger returned his attention to my captor;
"You seem to have misunderstood this situation," He said with such calm and vindication, you'd think my life didn't matter.
He continued;
"I'm not the hero that saves the damsel in distress..." He paused,
"...I'm the Grim Reaper."
< Gunshot...! ><<
I froze in my spot, but I didn't feel dead.
"You're safe now." He said, walking up to me. He brushed hair from my wet cheeks as he pulled me closer.
And I just fell on him.
Without hesitating, I rise to my toes and capture his lips in mine.
***
Sapphire Sanchez is just a girl looking for momentary happiness when she makes a rather impulsive move.
Life hasn't exactly been fair to her, and her mother's condition isn't making it easier for her. Then everything turns upside down when a stranger saves her from three hoodlums.
Or maybe the right side up?
Either way, she just met Dimitri Griot, the terror of Silicone City, the Grim Reaper himself.
He has built his empire with the same ruthless vindication he delivers his judgment. And fussy romance wasn't on his agenda when a lowlife cunt got his heart beating in the wrong manner.
He wants her just as much as he hates the weakness.
She wants him even though he incites terror in her.
The condition of romance is clear, and the rules for power are final. It's one of nothing: Power, Vengeance, or Love
Neither of them can have it all. But the question is, which will either of them choose?
Chapter 1
"WHERE IS IT!”
A resounding slap punctuated his question and the impact sent me straight to the ground.
I didn't even get the chance to register how hard I was slapped when the second man grabbed my hair and yanked me off the ground.
"Where is the fucking necklace?" The black man asked again.
His feigned politeness is gone and my initial confidence starts evaporating as the second man holds me in place with my hands behind me.
"Answer me, bitch!"
"I...I don't..."
Another slap landed on the same spot. My cheeks sting and my ears won't stop ringing just as I’m seeing stars.
"Don't test me bitch," He said, taking a menacing step closer to me;
"Where is the necklace?"
“I… I'm…”
All I can do is whimper in fear as tears flow freely down my cheeks. He brings out a gun and a new sense of dread falls on me;
"Where… Is… the necklace?"
"P-please..." I sobbed, trying to think of something he'd love to hear.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!?"
My heart jumped and I started mumbling over my words;
"I... It-it's... I-I threw it in the lake. P-please...I threw it in the lake..."
Another slap, or maybe it's a punch. Either way, it landed heavily on the same spot and I briefly drifted in and out of consciousness.
"It's not here…"
I heard the third man as he scattered the contents of my purse on the ground;
"It's not fucking here!" He snapped, kicking my purse away in frustration.
Blackie turned to face me and terror settled in me;
"I-I told you..." I said with a weak sob, "I threw it in the lake. Pl-please, don't hurt me... Please."
He grabbed my hair aggressively and pulled my head to the side as the second man held me immobile. With the cold barrel of his gun pressed under my chin, he snarled into my ear;
"I'll ask you one last time," He said and I whimpered involuntarily...
"Where. Is. The necklace?"
A sharp sob escapes my lips as fresh tears flow down my cheek. I don't care about the sting in my cheek, the tension in my scalp, or the ache in my neck as Blackie keeps my head cocked at an unnatural angle.
All I can think about is the metallic coldness pressing aggressively under my chin.
"I..." I swallowed hard, trying to keep a clear voice and think past the ringing in my ears.
"The necklace is not worth more than $10," I said and the gun pressed harder against my skin.
"P-please... Please don't kill me... I..." I swallowed again as an involuntary sob escaped my lips,
"I don't..."
< Gunshot ><<
I feel like I'm going too fast... Am I going too fast?
Okay, let's dial it down a notch and rewind to the beginning of my impending death.
I'm your average working girl living a miserable life with a below-minimum-wage job as a dishwasher in a restaurant.
My name is Sapphire and unlike everybody else, I hate Christmas.
And yes, tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
Today marks the sixteenth year I lost everything in an accident I can't even remember. I'm 25 now and everything about my life is barely above wrong.
The accident took everything from me; all my childhood memories before the accident, all the best parts about my mother, and my life.
I actually can't remember the life I had before the accident. Hell, if Mom wasn't alive to tell me, I wouldn't even know my name.
But I know somewhere out there, there's a place I’d truly belong. And I know this miserable life wasn't meant for me.
Tonight especially is a new definition of miserable, and the Christmas theme I keep hearing isn't helping my mood at all.
I didn't even realize when I walked over to the Lakeside, standing aimlessly still in my work uniform with a worn-out wool jacket barely keeping me warm.
Neither can I say how long I've been staring at my necklace.
Sure, it's a beautiful piece of jewelry; its seven golden rings shaped around an obsidian stone like a ball with tiny intricate letters written on it.
But that's not why I'm staring at it.
Mom said it's an heirloom passed down to the heirs in my father's lineage. She said it's a mystical amulet and it's supposed to bring me luck.
- It's all a load of crap -
All I see is a worthless piece of metal occupying space in my palm right now.
It hasn't brought me anything remotely close to luck. And yes, I know it's worthless because I tried to pawn it away many times with no success.
It didn't help Mom when she came down with dementia and couldn't work anymore, and it definitely isn't helping me now.
All it does is remind me of a life I can't even remember and add a sour mood to my already miserable night.
Maybe it's just the Christmas session, but I'm about done with this bullshit.
I reel back and throw the necklace with all my might, wishing all my troubles would sink to the bottom of the lake with it.
But of course, that's literally impossible. At least now I don't have to look at the necklace and remember something I don't have a memory of.
A minute later, or maybe it's an hour. I'm not exactly sure how much time I have spent staring at the twinkling reflection of the stars.
Heavy footsteps call my attention and I turn around to see a very black man flanked on each side by a huge man and an aggressive-looking young man with blond hair.
Before I could think of anything, I was already surrounded. With the huge man standing closely behind me, Blondie swaggers a little to the left, and Blackie smiles with fake politeness in front of me.
"Allow me to introduce ourselves, Miss Sanchez."
- Wha... How does he know my name -
"We work for a very powerful man who happens to want your necklace," Blackie said and I instinctively touched my neckline.
But of course, the necklace is at the bottom of the lake by now. I cleared my throat subtly and put on a confidence I was not feeling;
"Who is this man?" I said.
"That's none of your concern,"
He steps closer and I reflexively step back only to walk into the huge man's chest.
I look around, hoping to see anyone nearby to cry to. But it's past midnight already and even the lampposts aren't working.
"It's you and us, Miss Sanchez," Blackie said, "so, where is the necklace?"
"Wh-why would anyone want my necklace?" I asked with a soft defiance, trying to appear indomitable.
But I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared out of my mind.
The black man lets out a sigh and nods to Blondie. On cue, Blondie snatched my purse and ripped it open.
"HEY...!" I snapped angrily and tried to snatch my purse back, but powerful hands grabbed my arms from behind and held me in place.
A backhand slap landed on my cheek and tears stung my eyes courtesy of the pain.
"Stay still," Blackie ordered and I obeyed without a peep.
It's not like there's anything of value in my purse anyway. Only all my personal hygiene items, even the embarrassing ones.
"I can't find it."
"What?"
"I... It's not here." Blondie said as he continued ruffling through my purse.
"Where is it?" Blackie asked.
"I threw it in the lake," I said sharply before I lost my confidence and I watched a terrifying frown settle on Blackie's brows.
He moves closer to me and searches my pockets.
Nothing.
He let out a frustrated groan as he started ruffling my clothes and running his hands all over me in a frantic search.
"Where the fuck is it," He growled as his hands kept ruffling all over my body.
"WHERE IS IT?"
I opened my mouth to say something but a resounding slap landed on my cheek and threw me to the ground.
Before I could register the pain of hitting the ground or the sting on my cheek, I felt the huge man pick me up by my hair and hold me in place.
My cheeks still sting from the slap when Blackie lands another slap on the same spot before I could say anything.
Blondie scattered the contents of my purse to the ground and kicked it around in frustration, the huge man's fingers seemed to be digging into my skin as he folded my arms behind me at a painful unnatural angle.
And Blackie landed another slap on my face.
It felt more like a blow.
My eyes are blurry and starry, my ears keep ringing, and I can't seem to recognize the difference between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Blackie steps into my face. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head hard to the side as he pressed the barrel of his gun under my chin.
Now I'm beginning to understand this is a life-or-death situation, and I have no bargaining chips.
"I'll ask you one last time," he said with a snarl, "Where. Is. The necklace?"
Fresh tears flow down my cheek as I try to think past the sting on my cheek, the pain in my scalp, and the ache in my neck.
I don't have the necklace, but they won't believe I don't have it.
"I..." I swallowed hard, trying to keep a clear voice and think past the ringing in my ears.
"The necklace is not worth more than $10," I said and the gun pressed harder against my skin.
"P-please... Please, don't kill me... I..." I swallowed again, "I don't..."
< Gunshot ><<<
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Bound by the Dragon Mafia
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She went undercover to expose a mafia empire.
He offered her thirty nights to save her life.
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and closer to the monster hiding beneath his perfect skin.
Thirty nights. One bond.
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"What is wrong with me?
Why does being near him make my skin feel too tight, like I’m wearing a sweater two sizes too small?
It’s just newness, I tell myself firmly.
He’s my boyfirend’s brother.
This is Tyler’s family.
I’m not going to let one cold stare undo that.
**
As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.
Asher is a Navy veteran with battle scars and zero patience. He calls me "princess" like it's an insult. I can't stand him.
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**
I hate girls like her.
Entitled.
Delicate.
And still—
Still.
The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.
Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.
It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.
I’m not here to rescue anyone.
Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
She’s not my problem.
And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.
But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.
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Old wounds reopen, grief masquerades as rage, and love refuses to stay buried. As parenthood binds them together and the past demands accountability, Emily and Ryan must face the question neither of them is ready to answer: is broken trust the end of their story… or the beginning of a love forged through loss, forgiveness, and brutal honesty?
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He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
I didn't tell him to stop.
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I gasped into him, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw, holding me as if afraid I might vanish.
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She finds truth.
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