One million dollars per year.
That’s how much the mafia boss and his wife offered me to be their toy. They wanted me to live in their home, sleep in their bed, and submit to them on my hands and knees at a moment’s notice. The deal was to do whatever they wanted sexually and nothing more.
I nervously walked into the Buratti Family club, or more infamously known as The Syndicate, and to the back where the towering security guard in a black suit and black sunglasses stood with his fingers intertwined in front of his body. With their contract in my hand and my heart racing a million miles a second, I stared up at him.
“I’d like to see Constantino, please,” I whispered.
After looking me up and down, he nodded and guided me to Constantino’s office.
Of course, the money wasn’t legal, and the job came with countless cons. If anyone found out about me, I’d be harassed by the cops, targeted by rival families, and seen as nothing more than a filthy, easy slut by the Buratti relatives.
But I’d be under Constantino’s protection. And Constantino didn’t take anyone’s shit.
The guard knocked twice on Constantino’s door. “Boss, Sage is here to see you.”
“Sage?” Constantino asked from inside the room. “Send her in.”
Staring down at my feet-I was far too nervous to make eye contact-I scurried into the room and sat down in front of Constantino, chewing on the inside of my lip. When the door clicked closed, I sucked in a breath and peeked a glance up at him.
Like the last time I saw him, he didn’t smile when we made eye contact. Instead, he sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest, glancing down at the contract in my shaky hands. “I see that you’ve come to a decision.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Speak up when you talk to me.”
“Yes,” I said louder, trying desperately to fake confidence.
Truth was that it scared me shitless. I didn’t know how this was going to go. I had never been alone with him before and had only really spoken to his wife. She had been the one to sit next to me at the bar, to ask me for my number, and to propose this little deal.
“And?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face.
“And I…” I fumbled with the contract and slid it across the desk. “I want to do it.”
The corner of his lip twitched up as he grabbed the contract from me. “Do what?”
“I want to be your toy.”
After a couple of moments of staring at me intensely, he flipped to the last page of the contract and cleared his throat. “Abele!” he shouted.
The security guard opened the door and stuck his head into the room. “Yes, sir?”
“Bring the car around the back.”
When Abele disappeared, Constantino stood and held out his hand for me to take. “You will start tonight. Laila will be surprised and excited. She’s been waiting for your reply since last Friday, Sage.”
Hesitantly, I grabbed his hand. A rush of excitement shot through my body at the feel of him on my skin. This man must’ve held a gun in this hand so many times, used it to shoot and kill hundreds of people, and now… now he would use it to make me and his wife feel good together.
“And you?” I asked, finally having a bit of courage. “How do you feel about it?”
Guiding me toward the door, Constantino chuckled. “This might’ve been Laila’s idea, but I’ve been waiting for your response almost as much as she has. Seeing how excited my wife was when she saw you last weekend, I can’t wait to tie you up and have my way with both of you.”
Heat rushed to my core, and I shifted slightly. I pressed my thighs together while we walked down the hall, away from the club and toward a back door. Abele opened the door for us, glancing briefly at our hands, and handed Constantino the keys.
“Don’t call me for the night,” Constantino said to Abele, opening the passenger side door. “Laila and I will be busy.”
After curtly nodding at Constantino, Abele shut the back door. I slid into the passenger seat and pressed my hands to my thighs to stop them from bouncing, my nerves coming back. This was real now. Constantino was taking me back to his penthouse to become his and his wife’s toy for however long an entire year.
Constantino drove about ten blocks down the busy NYC streets, then pulled into the underground parking lot to a skyrise. Nervously, I shuffled out of the car and walked with him to the elevators as he tapped on his phone.
“You will get half now,” Constantino said, pressing the top button in the elevator. “Half once this year is complete. All your expenses will be paid, and you’ll live in this building, a couple of floors down from us. We already have a place set out for you.”
My phone buzzed, and an incoming message popped up from my bank. A deposit of five hundred thousand dollars suddenly in my account. It was more than I thought I’d ever seen in my lifetime.
Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I glanced up at him. “Is that where we’re going now?”
“No.” He grabbed my hand and led me out of the elevator when the doors opened to the top floor. “We’re going to see my wife.”
Once he pressed his finger to the door pad and hit a couple buttons on his lock, the door swung open, and a shit-ton of nerves hit me all at once. Yet, instead of stepping back like I usually did, I walked into their penthouse and gulped.
It smelled just like her.