Silk & Steel: A Mafia Romance | ENGLOT

Chapter 37: Guilt is like Rust

Flashback...

The air in the cramped, single-room brothel hung heavy with the stale scent of cheap perfume and desperation. Contessa, barely nineteen, sat perched on the edge of the threadbare mattress, her back ramrod straight, a defiant mask plastered on her face.

Across the room, Tiffany, another girl caught in the cruel web of circumstance, nervously chewed on a fingernail. They'd met a few months back, two lost souls adrift in a sea of broken promises and shattered dreams.

The previous"client", a man reeking of stale beer and entitlement, had just left, leaving behind a throbbing ache in Contessa's arm and a cold, slimy feeling that no amount of scrubbing could erase. She hated these nights, the violation of her body, the crushing weight of powerlessness.

"Are you alright, Tess?" Tiffany whispered, her voice barely audible. Contessa forced a smile, the gesture strained.

"Always," she lied, her voice rough. "Just peachy."

They both knew it was a lie. Contessa wasn't "alright." She was a barely nineteen-year-old girl with dreams of becoming a doctor, dreams that had been shattered the night her father, a gambler with a bottomless pit for a stomach, had sold her to this wretched place to pay off his debts.

Tiffany, with a spirit as defiant as Contessa's, had been here longer. She'd become Contessa's anchor, a shoulder to cry on, a confidante in this shared nightmare. They clung to each other, a lifeline in a sea of despair.

Suddenly, the brothel door creaked open, the harsh scrape a jarring intrusion on the tense silence. The last "client" of the night, swaggered in, a sneer etched on his face. Contessa's stomach churned, a familiar dread settling in her gut.

"Well, well," the man leered, his gaze sweeping over them like a predator sizing up prey. "Two for the price of one, eh?" He threw a wad of crumpled bills at Mama June, the wizened woman who ran the brothel, her face a mask of practiced indifference.

Contessa's heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't part of the deal. But before she could voice her protest, Mama June's bony hand clamped down on her shoulder, a silent threat.

"Don't make a scene, girl," she hissed, her voice raspy. "You do what the customer wants."

Contessa swallowed the bile rising in her throat, forcing a smile that felt like a betrayal of everything she was.

"So, which one of you lovely ladies gets to warm me up first?" the man slurred, his voice thick and guttural.

Contessa fought the urge to flinch. This was the routine, the degrading dance she performed night after night. But tonight, something felt different. A dangerous glint flickered in the man's eyes, a hunger that went beyond the usual transaction.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" he continued, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. Contessa's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear. "Whoever screams the loudest gets to go first."

Before Contessa could react, the man lunged for Tiffany, his grip rough and bruising. Tiffany let out a choked gasp, her eyes wide with terror. Contessa surged forward, a primal scream ripping from her throat.

"Leave her alone!" she shrieked, shoving the man with all her might. He stumbled back, momentarily surprised by her outburst. But the surprise was fleeting, replaced by a cold fury.

He backhanded Contessa across the face, the blow sending her crashing to the floor. Stars exploded behind her eyes, a metallic tang filling her mouth. Through the haze of pain, she saw Tiffany huddled in the corner, whimpering, tears streaming down her face.