Desired By The Mafia Twins

SOPHIE

"Sophie!" My foster mother's voice thundered from the kitchen.

Fifth home. Fifth nightmare.

That's how many foster homes I'd been shuffled through since I could remember. I came into this world with no knowledge of who my biological parents were and somehow, that mystery was a blessing compared to what I had endured. Life hadn't just been hard; it had been brutal.

And nothing... nothing compared to the hell of my current home.

My foster father the man who was supposed to protect me turned me into his personal sex slave.

As if that wasn't enough, he had me mutilated. He stole my womb. Stole my future. So I could never get pregnant and "ruin" his reputation.

And my foster mother? She knew. She knew everything. She chose silence because I wasn't their blood.

I was just another girl in the system. Disposable. Replaceable.

When I found out they planned to marry me off to a man old enough to be my grandfather, I snapped. I ran. No plan. No destination. Just me, alone in a city that didn't even notice I existed.

That night, I believed I was running toward freedom. But I was wrong.

I was running toward something worse.

I fell into the hands of human traffickers drunk, dangerous men who saw me as nothing more than a few dollars' worth of flesh. They blindfolded me, shoved me into a van, and told me I was going to "my buyer."

I thought I was done.

Until I heard her.

"Who are you and what the hell do you think you're doing with her? Let. Her. Go."

Her voice calm, elegant, commanding cut through the air like a blade. It was the first time I heard power wrapped in sweetness. I couldn't see her face, but I knew. She was no ordinary woman. She was an angel.

Sent to save me.

Seven Months Later

The vibration of my phone and the annoying crescendo of my alarm dragged me from sleep. Groaning, I buried my head under my pillow, delaying the inevitable until the ringing finally stopped.

My hand groped the nightstand and found the phone. Another day.

Another shot at life I never imagined I'd have.

Seven months ago, I was nothing. Just a broken girl with a destroyed past and no future.

But Hannah changed everything.

She was the woman with the angel's voice that night. My rescuer. My miracle. A mafia princess with more power in her smile than most had in their empires. And yet, she was kind. Gentle. She didn't just save me she lifted me.

She saw the spark in my art.

She helped me grow it into a flame.

Now, thanks to her, my paintings hang in homes I once could only dream about.

She became my best friend, my sister, my family.

Her house still felt surreal, even after visiting it a dozen times. It practically took up an entire city block, each corner a picture of luxury. As I stood before her ornately trimmed front door, my stomach sank.

"Shit... I forgot to pay the electricity bill."

Before I could spiral deeper into my financial panic, the door swung open. Hannah stood there in sleek workout gear, flawless makeup in place.

"Sophie!" she squealed, as if we hadn't just had lunch together yesterday.

"I cannot wait to see how your new piece looks in the hallway!" She reached for the painting in my hand with bright eyes.

"I thought you said it was going in the living room?" I asked, stepping into her palatial home, my voice echoing off the marble.

"I changed my mind. I want something bigger for the living room. Something with more color more BAM."

A small laugh escaped me. She was always this enthusiastic, especially about my art.

"I could be persuaded to create another piece..." I teased.

She waved dramatically. "Please do! These other paintings? Ugh. Outdated. Your work is everything, Sophie. It's bold, raw exactly what I want my home to reflect." A nervous flutter twisted in my chest as I set the painting down and slowly unzipped the case. Her compliments always warmed me, but showing someone my finished work still made me sweat.

She gasped. "Oh my God. Sophie, this is perfect! Your work is to die for!"

I flushed.

"I'll have someone hang it immediately. But first let's talk payment."

This was the part I hated most.

Money. Pricing my passion.

"Stop doing that." She folded her arms.

"Doing what?" I asked, blinking. "Acting like you don't deserve what people offer you. You're talented. Own it."

I sighed. "I know. I just... don't feel like I belong in this world. I still feel like that foster kid scrounging for crumbs."

"Well, we're changing that."

"How?"

"Exposure."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Come with me to a party tonight. Meet people real buyers. People who'll throw thousands at the chance to say they found the next big thing. If they think you're exclusive, they'll buy everything you make."

My pulse jumped. A mafia party. Not just rich people dangerous ones. I'd seen Hannah's father on the news. That kind of crowd scared me more than I wanted to admit.

She caught the fear in my eyes.

"Just this once. If you hate it, I'll never bring it up again. Be my date?" she pleaded with a pout.

I groaned. "Fine. But I don't have anything to wear."

"I have a closet, darling."

She wasn't kidding. Her closet was bigger than my entire apartment.

By evening, I was wearing one of her tailored dresses tight, glamorous, and clearly not made for my frame. The thin straps slid down my shoulders every few minutes, a constant reminder that I didn't belong.

She'd done my hair sleek, elegant, nothing like the tangled mess I usually ignored.

As the car drove past mansion after mansion, nerves overtook me.

God, when was the last time I had a hair makeover?

We pulled up to a palace. Literal palace. And I froze.

"Ready?" Hannah asked, smiling.

I forced one back. "Yeah."

As I stepped out, attendants swarmed valets, coat takers, servants.

It was just like the movies.

Only this time... I was in it.