The Mafia Boss Submissive

Italy. Sicily...

The security opened the back gate, and my driver drove in.

As soon as the car pulled into the compound, I jumped out and headed straight for the trap door, hidden from anyone living in the mansion.

I swung it open and climbed down the stairs that led to the secret underground bedroom, my very own hideaway.

I usually bring home some ladies to the bedroom to f**k them, but each one of them always ended up escaping in the middle of the fun, and I always think I haven't gotten the right person who will fully submit themselves to me. Luckily for this bedroom, my religious parents never knew I was up to something like this.

Well, I blame my psychological disorder, which always pushes me to do these things.

I stopped looking around the room, which I named the "Room of Pleasure". The acronym is ROP.

I climbed up the stairs and headed to my regular bedroom. I pressed the secret button hidden in the bookshelf, which caused it to open, and I entered my regular bedroom, pulling the bookshelf that separated my original bedroom and the room of pleasure closed behind me.

As I walked in, a knock came from the door.

"Is that you, Ginevra?" I called timidly.

"È mattina, Sullivan." My blonde-haired younger sister Gin spoke ' It's morning' to me in Italian walking into my room, and I raised my eyes at her as if I had just woken up.

Little did my family know that I didn't sleep at home overnight. Every evening at seven o'clock, I say goodnight to my family and retreat to my bedroom, where I secretly sneak out and go to my workplace. The details of my work are best kept secret.

"Good morning, Gin," I called, walking to the bathroom.

"You should come downstairs and have your breakfast before the doctor comes," Gin spoke English this time.

"Alrighty, I will be down in a bit," I said, entering the bathroom, and I could hear her walking out of the room.

When I finished bathing, I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt with my half-dried black hair falling to my face.

I slipped into my slippers and walked out of my room to the hallway before climbing down the well-furnished wooden staircase.

As I climbed on the last stairs and stepped on the concrete tiled floor, my mother noticed me, and she walked to me, who was looking naive, boyishly... Just name it. I'm always on this kind of expression because of my health.

"Buongiorno." My mother greeted me in Italian, hugging me.

"Good morning." I returned to my autistic behavior, and she pulled out of the hug.

"Come, let's get you breakfast before your doctor's appointment." She said, walking me to the dining, and I was limping, or, should I say, staggering, till we reached the dining.

"How was your night? Sullivan?" Dad asked as my mother helped me to sit.

"Great." This time, I was avoiding eye contact.

My mother served me my favorite meal, and I started eating childishly, with the rest of the three members of my family eating as well.

Dad started talking to Ginevra about business matters, but she didn't seem very happy about it. She had never shown any interest in inheriting the family companies, and neither had I.

I may be a patient, but I don't want to take over my adoptive parents' business. I already have my own business, and it doesn't involve inheriting their company. However, they're eager for me to take on that responsibility, so they've arranged for me to see the best doctor in Italy to make sure I get the treatment I need as quickly as possible.

"Take your brother to the guest room; he will be meeting the doctor there." Mother instructed Gin.

"No! I'm fine." I objected, stammering. "I can walk there myself," I added, standing on my feet, trying to maintain a normal standing posture.

I started walking to the guest room, and as I walked, I struggled to keep my balance. I looked at the ground as I walked; my movements were jerky and clumsy, but I maintained my balance until I reached the room.

I opened the door to the guest room and entered it. I sat on the couch, my head still lowered.

Although I have been in the early stages of autism spectrum disorder since childhood, thanks to my adoptive parents for the treatment they provided me with, and I haven't gotten worse with this disorder, I can't help behaving like one.

It took over an hour with me still on the couch, sitting with my head bowed, when the doctor who usually treated me walked in with my parents. I raised my head, avoiding eye contact with my parents or the doctor, and I greeted the doctor in Italian, who responded in English.

"How are you, Sullivan?" Mr. Fiore asked while I was still staring at nothing in particular.

"I'm... I'm fine. Thank you." I replied, blinking rapidly.

"Well, as you know, Mr. Fiore. My son needs to get better. At least, he needs to take on the family business before we get old." My dad started taking a seat beside my mother on the sofa opposite the doctor, who was seated on an armchair facing both my parents and me.

"As you know, Mr. Stone, we can't possibly rush your son's treatment. But gratefully, he's responding to treatment, and he's getting better than some patients that I know." Mr. Fiore addressed.

"Yes, I know. At least he's no longer freaking out when I hug him." Mrs. Stone, my mother added with a smile, which I saw from the corner of my eyes.

"True. And he is making quiet phone calls nowadays. Probably, he already has a friend from the internet." My dad spoke smilingly, and I almost glanced at him.

Did he eavesdrop on me while I was instructing someone who works for me on the phone?

"He's certainly showing signs of improvement," Mr. Fiore said. "Though it may take some time before he's ready to take over your businesses, and to be like everyone else out there." My parents nodded in agreement, while I sat there, trying to process everything they were saying. "If you want him to improve faster, I suggest hiring a professional to work with him regularly." He paused. "But for this to be effective, it's important to find someone who is not already part of your family or social circle," the doctor continued. "Someone who has a different personality and can relate to him in a way that's different from how you do. A lady I know from New York might be a good fit." He paused, waiting for my parents to respond. I kept my gaze averted, trying not to look directly at him.

"Someone with different personalities?" My mother repeated the doctor's words, and he nodded.

"Yes, a female." Doctor Fiore confirmed his suggestion. "With the female worker, he can learn about relationships, responsibility, clear communications, and even express certain emotions that he has never done."

"Wow, we've never thought about this." My dad said, glancing at my mother, and both of them glanced at me. I felt my anxiety rising, and my eyes were about to pop out of my head.

America. New York City.

"Why the hell do you call me 'a redhead witch'?" I glared at the old man. "I already told you-I don't fuck grandpas," I snapped, storming out of the VIP clubroom.

"Yo! What's up, Micah?" Ricky shouted, trailing behind me as loud rap music blasted from every corner of the club.

"Don't tell me you confessed to Friday again," I say, walking to another hallway, where there are crowds of people dancing and drinking.

"You are the reason why Friday won't say she loves me back."Ricky whistled.

"Well." I stopped on my track, glancing at him. "Her life isn't some fucking boring fiction, you know. Just continue fucking her, and your relationship will go on smoothly. Cut the bullshit called love. Can it even be the name of an animal?" I said with disgust and gave him a purse. "You know who to give the drugs to."

I strolled to the other clubroom, which is less noisy with strippers pole dancing and rich folks laughing and getting lap dances from some slut like me.

"Micah!" Adam called, and I smiled at him as he walked closer to me, then we kissed.

"Hi." I greeted softly, my eyes raised at him, and his hand was on my waist, trailing to my butt.

I'm Micah Taylor. Red hair. Sharp tongue. And a past no girl should carry.

My father is my "manager." That's what he calls it when he hands me off to men who want me in their beds.

It started when I was twenty, after his friend forced himself on me. The same man who'd been eyeing me since I was eighteen. I didn't break that night, but I discovered how cruel the world could be.

I was well compensated with a huge ransom of money, but that didn't stop me from depression.

My mother soon came to know that her husband's friend had done that to me; on her way home to find out from me, she got into a fatal accident, and we needed money for her surgery, but there were no means except my dad's friend, who desired me in exchange for giving us the money for my mum's surgery.

So, I'm now my dad's special trader.

"They have been waiting for you." Adam's hand was finally on my butt, his blue eyeballs were calm against the red light in the clubroom, and I smiled at him.

"Well, I was negotiating with the man I was to fuck tonight. He's dead old!" I cursed, remembering the man I was to have sex with tonight, how come he is not in his andropause yet?

"Did he accept the negotiation? Or he's gonna ask for a refund from your dad?"

"Whatever," I replied, rolling my eyeballs, still in a waist hug with Adam, who has been a client of mine for a year, but we became closer when he introduced me to the drug-dealing business.

"I should go." I kissed his cheek and smiled a little before walking to the men who were seated on the sofa. All are sexually aroused by the lap dances and pole dancing from naked strippers.

Slow sensual music was playing, which made the atmosphere in the room even more erotic.

"Hello, gentlemen," I called with the seductive voice that always has many men bow to me, and my charm was my slender hourglass body and my smile. I used them-smiling seductively as I walked toward a man.

.

.

"Here we are." Adam pulled the car to a stop in front of my dad's house, and I sighed, preparing to alight from his car. "Well... Have you given it a thought? About staying with me a little longer?" He asked, and I glanced at him.

"Hmm." I hummed.

"I'm moving to Sicily soon, and it might be my big chance in this business." He spoke, and I gave a slight shrug. "Are you worried about your dad?" He asked, and I tried to hide my fears with a fake smile.

"No, it's not about him." I lied.

"C'mon, Micah. It's time for you to ask for your fucking freedom and get away from your greedy dad. You can't be making money for him forever." Adam said, and I smiled a little.

"I will see to that. I mean, going to Sicily with you." I promised, and he leaned and kissed my neck.

"Well then, see you tomorrow." Adam bade, and I alighted from his car.

"See you at the club." I bade and watched him drive off before turning to enter my dad's house.

I breathed out when I got closer to the door. I stepped inside and walked to the living room, where I heard my dad's voice speaking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, I will surely send her to you." That was my dad, Mr. Taylor, talking, and I knew it was a client who needed my service. I sat on the sofa until Mr. Taylor showed up with a frown. "What did you do to Mr---"

"He's old." I cut in.

"We are after the money, Micah. Young or old shouldn't get in the way of our business." Mr. Taylor nagged.

"Really? Then I'd better start fucking you so you could provide me a responsible share of what I earn." I cussed with a death glare at him, and he scoffed.

"Should I remind you that your mother is still in a coma?" He pointed out that my mother's health always softened me, especially at times like this when we're about to have a heated argument. "Shall I remind you that it's because of you that she is there?" He rhetorically questioned, and I let out a huff, grasping the sofa tightly. "You better don't fuckin mess up if you still want her treatment to be paid by me, and get your redhead to business. Understood?"

"Yes." I ended up being obedient to his command. "I will not repeat the same mistake."

As much as I hate what I'm saying, I knew I gotta say it for my mother's sake. At least her medical bills are being footed with the money I make sleeping around.

"You will not even have the chance to make the same mistake. Pack up, you're leaving for Sicily first thing tomorrow morning." He announced, leaving me aghast. What happened to Sicily? I am willing to do anything for my mother, surely, but why is this city mentioned again today?

"Buona notte, tesoro." My mother kissed my cheek, and I managed to smile, my brows flickering.

"Goodnight, Mom," I replied, and she watched me walk into my room.

I locked the door behind me when I heard her footsteps which seemed to be leading down the hallway I took a short walk to my closet, unbuttoned my shirt, and threw it onto the bed, I took a black sweatshirt which I wore with a coat before walking to the bookshelf where I pushed the secret button which caused the bookshelf to open revealing the stairs that led down the underground bedroom where I get my pleasure.

The bookshelf closed by itself after I walked through it, climbing down the stairs, and I walked away from the bedroom to the upper stairs.

Sooner, I ended up coming out of the underground door, which was fixed on the floor.

I walked through the back gate and to the car, which must have been waiting for me.

"How's it going?" I asked my right-hand man as soon as I climbed into the Rolls-Royce.

"It's goin' well, sir," Black replied, turning on the engine of the car and speeding to the road.

"Any replies from Mr. Romano?" I asked, looking out the car window.

"He is starting to forget who is in charge," Black replied. "He hasn't gotten in touch for two weeks now."

I smirked in disgust, taking a pack of cigarettes from the map pocket.

I opened it, took a stick, lit it with the lighter I found earlier, and threw it back into the map pocket.

"Turn around," I commanded, and Black gave me a questioning look from the rearview mirror. "Don't take me to the safe house yet." I puffed out a smoke with my mouth.

"To Mr. Romano's house?" Black asked, making a U-turn.

.

Stepping out of the car, I reached for my hat and placed it carefully on my head. It shadowed my face, covering half of my features and keeping me in relative anonymity.

"Seems like a party is going on," I say as Black walks over to me, giving me a pistol.

"It's his 25-year-old daughter's engagement party," Black told me, and I cock the gun, tucking it at the back of my trousers.

"I see there's no need for bloodshed then." I sneered, covering the gun with the coat I was wearing, which stopped at my ankle.

Black led me to the garden, and as we entered it, the sounds of the party grew louder. I could see clusters of people chatting and laughing, their glasses clinking together in a lively toast. Brightly colored lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting the garden in a soft light. A live band was busy playing Italian music on a raised stage while I tried to keep my face away from anyone who must be staring at me because I knew that my outfit was strange.

"Get that reckless politician to me. We'll meet in a secluded place." I commanded myself to walk away from the rather crowded party to a tranquil spot where the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I looked up at the sky while waiting for Black to bring the man who was trying to outsmart me, when he knew that I was the one who made him the successful politician that he is today.

I was still standing and looking at the sky with my hat still covering my head when the ringing of my phone broke the stillness of the night. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone, the light from the screen blinding me for a moment. I answered the call, my voice low and guarded. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Don Sullivan, capo dei capi?" The familiar voice called.

"Yes, doctor Fiore," I answered, tucking my left hand inside my pocket.

"Your parents already agreed on hiring a lady, and they will go with my choice." The doctor said from the phone, and I sighed. A sigh of relief.

"Good job. I will have the lady escorted to you tomorrow. You should bring her to my parents' house thereafter." I raised my head as Black walked toward me with the Baldhead man.

"Yes, sir." Doctor Fiore answered from the phone, and I hung up immediately, putting on my hat.

"Capo dei capi," Mr. Romano said, his voice trembling with fear. He looked at me with surprise.

"You rotten piece of trash," I spat, walking closer to him. He tried to back away, but Black blocked his path. I lashed out, punching him in the face. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose. "You've made a grave mistake by thinking you can get free from me. Seems like you've forgotten I can take all that you have within fuckin minutes." I said, my voice cold and menacing.

"Please forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you. Giuro su Dio!" Mr. Romano pleaded.

"I don't need your fuckin to swear to Christ," I said with distaste, squatting to him. He was still on the ground with Black behind him.

I placed my thumb on his jaw and made him face me; his mouth was shaking, and he had begun to bleed from his nose.

"You know I don't like it when someone tries to betray me," I say, running my thumb on his jaw... "Let's meet tomorrow," I commanded, standing up. "Get yourself cleaned up before someone mistakes you for a common thug. A little less blood on your face might make you look less like a horror movie extra." I said, unsympathetically, wearing my hat.

I walked away with Black following me behind.

We got to the car, and he helped me open the door. "How's the job coming along?" I asked Black, not sparing him a look.

"Successful. Although her father is quite greedy. He had to call some people to bid for her price, and I ended up winning after I proposed a high price." Black replied, standing at my back.

I scoffed. "Really?"

"Yes. He held a private bidding for her hand. She will be in Sicily tomorrow at noon." Black informed me.

"When she arrives, make her know she already belongs to us and see to making sure she will not utter any word about the auctioning to my parents. You know what to do with Doctor Fiore afterward." I said, entering the car, and Black nodded, shutting the car door behind.