Beauty and the Mafia Beast

"𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢, 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯, 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰-𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢."

- 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫.

Fucking a stranger in the washroom of a hospital while my classmate's stepfather lay dying in the ER has to be my worst sin. But let me back up a bit, because this story starts with a bang-well, not that kind of bang.

It starts with me, Camilla Dawson, sitting in the hospital lounge, tapping my foot impatiently. I hate hospitals. The odd chemical smell, the beeping machines, the constant reminder of mortality. I promised myself I'd never set a foot here again after finally being free of the regular visits. But here I am, waiting for news about Claire's stepfather, because that's what friends do.

And maybe my presence here tonight will finally convince her that I care about her. I've failed to keep the act up lately.

Truth be told, I think it's better if the man kicks the bucket. He's a total dick, always making Claire's life miserable with his controlling ways and constant criticism. But family is family, and Claire is here, so I am too.

She excuses herself to go answer a call from her mom, leaving me alone in the lounge. I glance around, trying to distract myself from the morbid thoughts, my palms growing sweaty as the flashbacks keep filtering in mercilessly.

And that's when I see him. Tall, dark, and dangerously handsome at the very first glance-like watching a love interest in a dark romance movie-leaning against the far wall. His eyes are the same colour as mine-blue, but they're many shades darker. There's something about his stare. It's too intense like he's stripping me with his gaze.

I might be reading too much into this... maybe it's just a stupid attempt to distract myself.... But, well. He could be Death itself, but Gods if he isn't sexy. And if I'm the next soul he wishes to reap, I'll gladly let him. Because at least he won't trail behind me between corridors after classes claiming he's fallen in love with me.

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. "See something you like?" I mouth, knowing full well he can't hear me from across the room. But he gets the message. His lips curl into a slow, predatory smile that makes my heart race.

He pushes off the wall and starts walking towards me, lazily, almost dragging his feet. I stand up, meeting his gaze head-on. As he gets closer, I see the dark pits of his eyes widen, the slight stubble on his jaw, the way his white shirt stretches taut across his broad shoulders.

"You always this forward?" he asks in a whisper, looking over his shoulder, seeming desperate to keep this a secret.

I shrug, my smirk widening. "Only when I see something worth my time."

He blinks, impressed, and then leans in, his breath hot on my ear. "And what makes you think I'm worth your time?"

I laugh under my breath. "Because you're here, aren't you? And you can't take your eyes off me."

He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes my stomach flutter. "Touché."

"So, what's your story?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, studying his outfit. He's rich, is my quickest conclusion. "You here for someone special, or just lurking around hospitals for fun?"

His eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment he looks lost, seeing something else entirely even though his eyes are on me. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he replies, distracted.

I take a step closer, our bodies almost touching. Why is he distracted? Did I say something to make him lose interest? That never happens.

"Maybe I would. Maybe I'm just curious about the mysterious stranger who can't keep his eyes off me."

He mirrors my movement, leaning in until our breaths mingle. "Maybe you should be careful what you wish for."

The smell of him is intoxicating, like cigarettes and bad decisions. The urge to feel those lips in me growing too strong. "And maybe you should stop talking and do something about it."

His hand reaches up, his fingers gently brushing a strand of my pale blonde hair away from my face. The touch is soft, but it wrecks me. "Is that an invitation?"

I bite my lip. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Guess you'll have to find out."

He smirks, his hand moving to the small of my back, pulling me closer. "I never back down from a challenge."

"Good. Because I never lose."

His lips brush against my ear, a low growl filling my sense. "We'll see about that."

Before I know it, we're in the hospital washroom, the door locked behind us. His hands are on my hips, his lips buried into my neck.

He lifts me onto the counter in a single, effortless movement. His body presses into mine, knocking the breath out of me but I don't complain. Instead, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

I moan, my head falling back to hit the mirror as he trails kisses down to my collarbone. His hands slip under my shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of my breasts. His mouth finds my nipple, his tongue circling, his teeth gently biting. I gasp, my body arching towards him.

What the hell am I doing? Who the hell is this man?

The thoughts come as warnings, but the way he touches me makes them all feel stupid. Rationality has no place in a mind that's overcome with lust.

He starts to move, his hips thrusting against mine, his body claiming me with each stroke. I feel every inch of him, his balls slapping against me with each thrust. It's messy, it's dirty, and it's the best fucking feeling in the world.

I never thought I'd ever be doing this, fucking a stranger in a hospital washroom. But I can't say I haven't fallen farther than this in an attempt to survive in the past, and this isn't even about survival, about need. It's what I want.

Just as he's deep inside me, he says something that stops me cold. "You know, people like you always end up alone. No one cares about you, and no one ever will. You're just a waste of space."

I go rigid. "What the hell did you just say?"

He thrusts deeper. "You're nothing but another pathetic nobody, begging for attention. Look at you, devouring it now that you've finally got some."

I've spent years feeling alone, unloved, and unseen. And here he is, a stranger, echoing my deepest fears. Anger surges through me, and before I can think, my hand connects with his cheek. The force of the slap is so hard that his head snaps to the side, and a red welt immediately appears on his skin.

"Well, well, well," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like someone just got a reality check. You might want to ice that, buddy. Wouldn't want your pretty face to get all puffy."

He looks at me, surprised that I'd do something like that. But I don't stick around to find out his response. I storm out of the washroom, leaving him hard and dry, and wondering what the hell just happened.

As I walk back to the lounge, I feel absolutely strange. And satisfied. I may have just made the biggest mistake of my life, but at least I did it with style.

In the chaos that unfolds over the next few hours-Claire's stepfather finally calling it quits, her fainting in my arms, her mother sobbing and screaming in my ears-I manage to forget about the dirty encounter with the arrogant stranger. But then as I'm about to drive Claire to our sorry excuse of a dorm, he shows up again, if only for a brief flash. He runs across the front of my parked car to the other side of the street before he's shoved into a fully tinted long black car. The front of his shirt is dappled with crimson patches.

I turn the car around and drive, frowning. Claire continues to cry, hiccuping now. I do my best to convince myself to forget him, and that it wasn't blood on his shirt, but every second etches him deeper into my memory, and makes me certain he killed someone.

The days faded into nights, months into years, and I forgot him-unaware that the stranger would soon become a far greater part of my life than I ever could have imagined.

"𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔬 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯."

- 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫.

Eight years later...

[ZEKE]

I don't like being tricked. But what I hate even more is when something I don't expect happens. There's nothing more infuriating than being out of control. If only at a single step.

Elio's face blends well with the white interiors of the private hospital room by the time I get there with Marco. When my gaze lands on him, he visibly flinches, even though I have not yet fired the bullet. He's probably pissed himself, but I ignore him for now, diverting my attention to the woman who's living the last moments of her life.

An unremarkable face, dark hair that's matted from the days of imprisonment-and even then I know she wouldn't stand out in a crowd. She's forgettable and bland, unlike some others...Stop thinking about her, fucker. It's been eight years. This one doesn't have a name in my mind-I thought I'd come up with something-rabbit or mouse, depending on how she squeals when I start torturing her, but she took that chance away from me. And saved herself.

Cowardly, but smart.

And futile, anyway. Because she was no one important to Vance-she definitely wasn't his daughter, and if only for a few moments, he had me convinced otherwise.

The woman draws a last shuddering breath before she stills. The doctor standing beside her notes the time of death. You killed her, an unwelcome voice murmurs. It's my father's voice. I ignore it, the way I ignored him in life.

Elio recoils as I turn my attention back to him, but there's nowhere to go. As much as he'd prefer it now, the wall isn't going to swallow him. I move slowly, seizing his collar and yanking him up like the worthless sack of bones he is. He gasps, his watery eyes going wide with terror. The nurses scurry out, understanding their place.

"How are you going to explain this to your boss?" I ask in a deadly calm voice.

Elio trembles, his teeth clicking together. He knows he's about to die. Good. He should fear me.

I glance at Marco, my right-hand man, standing by the door with an amused smirk. "Tell me, Marco, how is it that my perfectly healthy bride just dropped dead?"

Marco chuckles. "Poison, boss. An easier way to go, if you ask me."

I turn back to Elio, my grip tightening. My gun is in my hand before I even think about it, the barrel pressed to his clammy forehead. He shudders, and a dark stain spreads across the front of his pants. Pathetic.

"Your boss owed me for his betrayal, Elio. That woman was his way of making it right, his chance to get back in my good graces. So tell me-do you think he'll be happy knowing his debt is still unpaid? That she died under your care?"

Elio swallows hard, panic swimming in his eyes. "No, please..."

"Did you pity her, and feed her the poison yourself? Because once I found the truth, she'd go back to Vance, and he'd just be as brutal if not more," I say, shaking my head slowly.

Elio chokes, "I swear, I had nothing to do with this!"

I press the gun harder against his skull. "Then give me a reason not to kill you where you stand."

The woman Vance Moretti sent to me was supposed to be his way of repaying his debt-a bargaining chip to win back my favor, to show that he was once again loyal to the Russells. But this morning, I found out the truth-she was never his to offer. Vance played me for a fool.

But he made himself a bigger fool. How in hell did he think he could get away with this? It only gets uglier from here. For him, and for the rest of his damned family.

He gasps, and then finally fesses, "She wasn't his daughter!"

I tilt my head and withdraw the gun. "Now you're speaking," I begin calmly, a dangerous smile drawing to my lips.

Elio's brows furrow, his breath thinning.

"Of course I knew, Elio. But I thought you didn't. I hoped you didn't, because, you see... that is enough reason for me to put these bullets through your head. But I think the hounds will like you better." He cries, squirming in my hold in a weak attempt to break free. The sound grates at my nerves, but I resist. "Do continue. Tell me more while I still let you live. Who knows... I might change my mind after all."

He takes the chance, and immediately begins to blurt out. "Vance's real daughter... he has one who's been kept a secret. She doesn't know about him, about any of this. She's... clean. Innocent."

I nod, already smiling. This is going to be so much fun, Vance. "Does his son know about her?"

"Vincent doesn't," Elio answers, confusion masking his face. "I don't know why Vance won't tell him."

An interesting detail. I cock my head to the dead woman on the hospital bed. "How long have you known about her?"

Elio's head bobs frantically. "I swear, I only found out recently. I wanted to tell you-I was scared, boss! B-but his real daughter can be the payment. I know where she is-I can bring her to you."

I release Elio, letting him crumple to the floor. He gasps for breath, shaking. Useless.

"You have 24 hours," I say, my voice cold. "Deliver her to me. And not a word of this to Vance. He should think I'm marrying the woman he sent-up until that veil is lifted off her face. Fail, and I'll carve you up piece by piece and feed you to my hounds."

"No! No, please!" He crawls toward me, sobbing. "I'll do it! I'll bring her!"

I step over him without a second glance. He's already dead in my mind, whether he delivers or not.

Marco falls into step beside me. I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back as we step out of the hospital. "So, what's the real plan for the girl, boss?"

I pause, smirking at the thoughts swirling in my mind. "I'm going to marry her, of course," I answer. "Make her mine in every way that matters. Let Vance watch as his precious little girl learns what it means to belong to me."

Marco whistles low. "And if she resists?"

My fingers flex at my sides.

"She will," I say with a nod. "That's what will make it so much more satisfying when she finally breaks."

I pause, glancing at him with a smirk. "Tell me, Marco, do you believe in fate?"

Marco chuckles, shaking his head. "Can't say I do."

I hum. "Well, Vance's daughter is about to learn that it doesn't matter what she believes." I glance toward the darkened city skyline.

"Because fate has already decided. She's mine. And I think I'll enjoy ruining her."

"ℑ 𝔰𝔞𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶, 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨, 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠."

- 𝔑𝔦𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔏𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔰

[CAMI]

The bass thrums through my veins as I sip my drink, leaning against the bar. The club is just loud enough, just wild enough-exactly what I need tonight. No overthinking, no stress, no impending disaster looming over me. Just music, a drink, and the chance to momentarily forget about the corporate world that I have to dive into again tomorrow.

Claire leans into me, her blonde waves brushing against my shoulder as she nudges me with her elbow. "Cami, maroon shirt, two o'clock. He's staring at you."

I roll my eyes but can't help the slight lift of my lips. Claire has this awful habit of playing matchmaker whenever we go out. Still, I glance over my shoulder, keeping it casual. And, well-hello, tall, dark, and fine. The guy oozes confidence, one corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk as he raises his glass in a silent toast. Then... he winks.

Oh, fantastic. Another night, another guy trying his luck.

Claire giggles beside me. "Hot, right?"

I shrug, taking another sip of my drink. "He's alright, I guess."

"Oh, please."

Before I can respond, Jake returns from wherever he'd wandered off to, wrapping his arm around Claire's waist and pulling her into him. He presses a quick kiss to her temple. "Hope I'm not interrupting whatever secret girl talk is happening over here."

"You totally are," Claire teases, but she leans into him anyway.

Jake turns to me, raising a brow. "So? You making eyes at someone?"

I scoff. "What is this, high school?"

He laughs, shaking his head.

Okay, I'll admit it. He's hot. The kind of hot that makes you ignore all the red flags waving around him. But I've been down that road before, and it usually leads straight to disappointment. Still, a night of mindless fun wouldn't kill me. I'm not looking for anything serious. Not now. Someday, sure-I'll settle, pop out a kid or two, prove to myself that I can be a better mother than the one I had. But right now? I have a corporate ladder to climb, and tomorrow's presentation is going to test my sanity.

"Still thinking?" Claire teases.

Jake grins. "Come on, Cami, let me have my girlfriend to myself sometimes."

I laugh, leaning my elbows back on the glass counter. "Fine, fine. Go, dance. Be gross together."

Jake takes Claire's hand and leads her toward the dance floor. "Sorry, Cami!" she calls over her shoulder.

Jake's nice. Steady. The kind of guy who actually deserves Claire, which is a damn miracle because none of the idiots before him did. She's too good for this world-too soft, too bright, and way too trusting for her own good. She's been hurt before, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again.

Claire was just a convenient presence at first. A roommate, a classmate, a warm body to sit next to so I wouldn't look like some lonely loser in college. I didn't need friends. I didn't need attachments. I just needed to survive. And Claire? She was there, easy to keep around, easy to lean on when I felt like pretending I gave a damn about things like friendships and memories and all that sentimental crap.

But somehow, without me noticing, she became more.

I don't even know when it happened. Somewhere between late-night cram sessions, coffee-fueled rants about professors who didn't know how to teach, and laughing so hard we almost got kicked out of the library, she stopped being just some girl I hung out with. She became my person. My family.

When her mom died shortly after her step-father passed away, I should've done what I do best-keep my distance, crack a joke, move on. But I didn't. Because for the first time, I saw Claire break. And it wasn't the loud, dramatic kind of heartbreak. No, she shattered quietly. She stopped laughing so much, stopped filling every silence with her usual sunshine and stupid optimism. It was like the light in her dimmed, and I hated it.

So I stayed. I made sure she ate. I made sure she slept. I let her talk when she needed to, and when she didn't, I sat beside her in silence. And somehow, without realizing it, the cage around my heart-the one I spent years building-crumbled. And Claire slipped inside.

She's not just some college roommate I used to know anymore. She's my sister. And that means I've got something to lose.

Now she has found Jake. And she's happy with him. And me? I don't know.

I shake my head, exhaling as I close my eyes for a moment, letting the music settle into my bones.

Someday, I tell myself. Someday I'll have the kind of life that makes sense. A job that doesn't make me want to throw my laptop out the window. A home that isn't just a temporary pit stop between work and whatever half-hearted social event I force myself into. Someday, I'll enjoy life instead of just existing in it.

Or maybe I should stop reading all those self-help books and just accept that life is a mess.

"Not much of a dancer?"

I open my eyes and find Maroon Shirt Guy beside me, mimicking my stance against the bar.

I arch a brow. "Not much of a stranger-talker either."

He chuckles. "Good thing I'm not much of a stranger anymore."

"Says who?"

"Says Daniel." He extends a hand. "And you are?"

I glance at his hand but don't take it. "Cami."

He doesn't look fazed. "Cami. Short for anything?"

"Short for none of your business."

Daniel laughs, shaking his head. "Sassy. I like it."

"Most men think they do," I quip. "Until they realize they can't keep up."

He grins. "Try me."

I do. And to my surprise, he keeps up. He's sharp, quick-witted, doesn't take himself too seriously. For once, I don't feel like I'm carrying the conversation on my back.

So, when the night winds down and he suggests we take this elsewhere, I don't say no. I make the decision quickly. "You live far from here?"

His brows lift slightly, but he recovers quickly, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Not as close as you, I'm guessing."

"Smart."

He tilts his head, studying me. "That a deal-breaker?"

"Nope. But it does mean you're coming to mine."

His grin widens. "Lead the way."

***

It's around 1 AM when I slide out of bed, stretching as I pad across the floor to the other bathroom. Daniel's in my en-suite, the shower running. Good. Gives me a moment to breathe, to reorient myself.

My apartment is quiet, as always. Giselle, my model roommate, is never home, and the other two floors are unoccupied. I like the space, the solitude. It's mine.

I pull on a loose t-shirt and make my way to the living room, grabbing my laptop. I'd been stupid to put off working on my presentation until tonight, but here we are. It's a big one. A make-or-break moment for my position at the company. No pressure, right?

A few minutes later, Daniel emerges, shirtless, damp, looking every bit the sin I indulged in. He slides behind me, pressing his lips to my neck. "You coming back to bed?"

I offer a small smile. "Give me a few minutes."

His hands linger on my waist, but he pulls away with a frown. "Don't work too hard."

I hum in response, already refocusing on my screen.

Minutes pass in silence. It's just the clicks of the keyboard that fill up the space.

Then I hear it.

A rustle.

I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The hair on the back of my neck rises. I slowly glance over my shoulder, but there's nothing there.

I should stop watching horror films when I'm alone.

Shaking my head, I stand, stretching as I head toward the hallway. The silence of my apartment suddenly feels too unsettling. I glance toward the front door, then back toward the kitchen. Nothing.

I exhale. Probably just my imagination.

But when I turn back toward the living room, my breath catches.

A figure near my table. Cloaked in a thick coat, wearing a hat low over his face.

Ice shoots through my veins.

For a second I think I'm only imagining it out of exhaustion, then he steps forward, revealing an unfamiliar face before saying in a clear voice, "Hello Camilla. I need you to come with me."

I move before I think, launching toward the front door. But I don't make it. Hands clamp around my arms. My body tenses, a scream rising in my throat, but then-

Something soft presses against my mouth.

A cloth.

A dizzying scent floods my nostrils, my head spinning instantly.

Through the haze, I hear him speak again, sounding satisfied now.

"Zeke will have his bride."

And then-nothing. Except unending darkness.