Silk & Steel: A Mafia Romance | ENGLOT

Chapter 4: A different kind of Heat

Contessa stared at her reflection in the chipped mirror, the remnants of glitter clinging to her damp skin like mocking confetti. The music from the club throbbed faintly from downstairs, a jarring counterpoint to the hollowness echoing inside her.

The memory of the night played on repeat in her mind - the gunshot, the silent gasp, the crimson stain blossoming on the floor. The terror that had gripped her was a cold, clammy hand still wrapped around her heart.

The other girls, their faces etched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and thinly veiled jealousy, sat huddled together, stealing glances at her. The whispers started, a current of speculation that crackled through the room. "Did you see the way Wyvern looked at her?" "Wonder what she did to deserve that kind of attention."

Contessa felt a flush creep up her neck. Wyvern's gaze, usually sharp and assessing, had held a flicker of... something different when their eyes met. The memory of Wyvern, a whirlwind of cool control and deadly precision, sent a fresh wave of shivers down Contessa's spine. The notorious Donna, who barely acknowledged the women who danced for her entertainment, had stepped in without hesitation, the lone guardian angel amidst the vipers.

A hesitant hand touched her shoulder. It was Tiffany, her ever-optimistic friend, concern etched on her heavily made-up face. "Contessa, honey, what happened? We heard the shot."

Contessa opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come.

"That creep wouldn't leave you alone, did he?" Sabrina, another dancer, chimed in, her voice laced with a hint of something that wasn't sympathy. Envy, perhaps. Wyvern's attention was a rare commodity, and tonight, it seemed, Contessa had snagged it.

Contessa shook her head, the movement triggering a fresh wave of nausea.

"Look at you," Sabrina continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "All shaken up over a little harassment. Like it doesn't happen every night."

Tiffany shot Sabrina a withering look. "That's not the point, Sabrina. Contessa's clearly traumatized."

"He wouldn't leave me alone," Contessa finally managed, her voice a choked whisper. "He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"One of Wyvern's boys?" Sarah, a wiry redhead, asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something akin to morbid fascination.

Contessa nodded, the image of Wyvern's cold gaze aimed at the man igniting a tremor in her hands. "And then..." she trailed off, unable to articulate the chaos that followed.

"And then?" Sabrina pressed, pushing the issue. A glint of something akin to jealousy flickered in her eyes. Wyvern's unwanted attention had always been a source of petty squabbles amongst the dancers.

Contessa shut her eyes, the metallic tang of blood returning to her senses. "She... she took care of it," she finally whispered.

The room went silent. The air crackled with unspoken words, envy battling with a raw sense of fear. Wyvern, the untouchable Donna, had intervened for a lowly stripper. It was unheard of.

"Lucky you," Sabrina said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Getting rescued by the Donna herself. You must've done something right."

"Most girls would kill for that kind of attention." Sarah butted in.

Contessa's stomach churned. Attention? It felt more like a death sentence, a terrifying brush with a world she never wanted to be a part of. But a tiny, traitorous part of her couldn't help but replay the image of Wyvern, her dark silhouette framed by the harsh lights, a vision of power and control that sent a shiver of something akin to desire down her spine.