img The Vicious Scent Of The Mafia's Black Rose  /  Chapter 1 Why Don't You Treat Me To The Rules | 4.35%
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The Vicious Scent Of The Mafia's Black Rose

The Vicious Scent Of The Mafia's Black Rose

Author: Richie-Banks
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Chapter 1 Why Don't You Treat Me To The Rules

Word Count: 1103    |    Released on: 11/12/2024

in

reatment," Mr. Donald's cold, mechanical voice cut through the air. He tossed the stripper costumes at

d no choice. I had no roo

dancers - male and female - staring, their judgment heavy in the a

stripper. How ha

rents looked like, I would have no answer. I don't even carry their name. My identity - my whole li

y birth parents cast me aside like I meant nothing. She ran away with me and raised me lik

snapped me fro

e quicken. I couldn't afford to make him wait. I threw on the tight black skirt,

r, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a nose that was delicate, full red li

e cut through the silence. I nodd

My heart skipped - what if one of these people recognized me? What if one of them had bee

had seventy-two hours to save my dy

k. "Entertain them well." He pat

urged within me. I moved with the rhythm, my body swaying and undulating in a way that felt like second natu

tures. Three hulking guards flanked him, their presence an unmistakable sign of his wealth an

s part of the music itself, part of something alive. My movements became i

elf around the pole. My chest heaved, my breath coming in sharp, measured gasps. The audienc

the masked man stood and strode toward the podium. His guards wheeled a s

ce smooth, yet chilling. "I'll

sensual waves, though every second felt like a punishment. I danced for

l." The Italian accent barely veiled his distaste.

ver said I had to dance for an hour!" I

as he ascended the podium. Before I could react, his hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. The fami

smack. He

oud and satisfying. "Watch it," I hissed. "Don't you know t

"I guess I don't. Why don't you treat me to the rules?

slaps," I warned, the venom in my

out of the room wi

my eyes nearly made me sick. He was lounging on his couch, s

a che

ey," I demanded, trying to keep my composure

y, wiping his hands. "The clients h

Mr. Donald always made sure the money was in

w what I need." My voice wav

arms behind his head. "Come back tomo

I couldn't afford to back down. Not now. N

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