"Mafia's African Rose

Submission

          I looked up at the night sky, a small smile tugging at my lips. "It's beautiful," I whispered, barely aware of my surroundings.

"Just like you," a voice interrupted.

I jolted, glancing over. It was the man from earlier—the one who looked so much like the Boss. Instinctively, I shifted to the other end of the bench, feeling uneasy around him.

"Sorry for interrupting," he said, settling beside me. I caught a whiff of his cologne, dark and intoxicating.

"You talk too much for a mafia ," I muttered, giving him a sidelong glance.

He chuckled. "And you're pretty fierce for a slave."

Just like that, my mood soured. "I'm tired of people reminding me of my place," I said, voice thick with frustration.

He watched me, his expression unreadable. I studied him briefly, noting the slight similarities. "You look so much like him," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"He's my half-brother," he replied, eyes flickering to my Boobs  for a split second before returning to my face.

"Oh, I see." I let out a dry laugh. "Never thought he had any family. He acts like he doesn't know what love is."

His mouth curled into a grin. "This is our world, princess. We don't walk around with smiles and open hearts."

I hummed, looking back up at the sky. But then, the familiar sound of heels clicking against the stone interrupted the moment.

It was her—the woman from earlier. She cast a disdainful glance my way, eyes flicking between me and Viktor. I noticed the nervousness in her face as she looked at him, but she didn't hold back.

"If it isn't the Black whore," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. She then glanced at Viktor. "Seems your sister got lucky with the second-in-command. Let me guess—you're here to try your hand at snagging someone powerful, too. But in the end, you'll end up just like your sister—a Sex slave ."

I clenched my fists, trying to drown out her words, but her sneer and insults broke my patience. I stood up, meeting her gaze with all the anger boiling in my chest, and swung my fist right into her nose. The satisfying crack of her nose breaking filled the air, and she let out a high-pitched scream, stumbling back as she clutched her face.

Viktor just laughed, a low, humorless chuckle, as he looked at me, almost like he was proud.

"You bitch!" she shrieked, gripping her nose.

Footsteps sounded, drawing everyone's attention. The Don appeared from the shadows, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes sharp as they took in the scene. He looked from her, still clutching her bleeding nose, to me standing there, fists clenched.

"Is this how you act now?" His voice was calm but cold, his stare freezing me in place. "I bring you to my table, and you thank me by causing a scene?"

A small crowd had gathered. I felt everyone's eyes on me, waiting. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest, but my pride wouldn't let me back down. I met his stare, frustration bubbling up. "You put me here, and I'm supposed to just sit quietly while she spits on me?"

He stepped closer, the air around him tense and dangerous. "Do you forget your place so easily, Angel? I could strip away your miserable life.

I swallowed hard, every muscle in my body on edge, but I couldn't hold my tongue. "Then maybe she should learn some respect ," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I may be a slave here, but I'm still a person."

A thick silence fell over us as he locked his cold gaze onto me. I felt Cara's smug gaze burning into me from the sidelines, and my heart was pounding, but I held his gaze. Viktor chuckled softly, almost like he admired the boldness, while Nora gasped, her face a mixture of shock and worry.

The Boss's voice cut through the tension, booming out, "Enough!" His face was unreadable, but there was a hard edge to his eyes. "Don't think this will go unpunished, Angel."

He turned on his heel, his cold presence leaving a chill behind as I stood there, realizing the danger of crossing a man who didn't tolerate Disrespect. I'd gained no victory, only a quiet dread that settled deep in my chest.

        I was almost falling asleep in the bathtub when someone banged on the door. I screamed. "Sir... what are you doing here?" I stammered, staring at him in shock.

He looked at me with dark eyes. "Come out," he said sternly.

"I... I can't," I whispered, trying to cover myself. "Give me a second..."

"Angel, get the hell out of the water now, He growled, his voice low and dangerous. Swallowing hard, I started to shake, memories of what happened back home flooding me. I whispered, "Please... don't hurt me."

He hissed, as if barely containing his impatience. I slowly rose from the bathtub, feeling the cold air bite at my wet, exposed skin. I crossed my arms over my chest, desperate to cover myself.

"Drop your hands," he ordered, his gaze unyielding.

I hesitated, but eventually, I let my arms fall to my sides. His beautiful eyes moved over me, expressionless, taking in every inch as though inspecting me for weakness. I stood there, vulnerable and exposed, feeling like a toy on display. Somewhere, deep down, a twisted part of me wanted to know if he liked what he saw.

He let out a cold chuckle. "Look at you," he sneered. "Thinking you could stand up to Cara. You must be out of your mind."

I lowered my head, biting my lip to stop the tears welling up. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he demanded.

I lifted my eyes to meet his, fighting the urge to cry. He tilted his head, his voice full of disdain. "You must think so highly of yourself. I couldn't even get turned on by you.

"You really think you can talk back to people who are far above you?" People who are Better!

His words cut deep, and tears began to spill freely.

"Turn around and touch your toes," he commanded.

"What?" I choked, shocked.

"Do as I say!" His tone left no room for arguments.

Swallowing my pride, I turned, bending forward until I gripped my ankles. A sharp intake of breath escaped him, and before I knew it, a stinging slap landed on my ass. I let out a soft, unintended moan that startled even me.

He chuckled darkly. "Count."

Another slap landed, sharper this time. "Two," I managed, biting back the rush of conflicted feelings. His hand came down repeatedly, each smack drawing out my voice, and soon, the pain began to overwhelm any other feeling.

"It hurts," I whimpered, my voice cracking.

"Good," he replied coldly, landing a harder smack. "That's exactly what you deserve. Take it like a good girl."

I counted each slap, my mind blurring with exhaustion. It went on and on until my body gave out, and darkness finally took over.

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