The Mafia King’s Doll

Franco

I didn’t close an eye last night.

I kept replaying everything in my mind, wondering if there was a better way to handle the situation.

As the elevator doors slide open, my heart pounds in my chest. I don’t know what I’ll do if Samantha’s not here.

I walk down the hallway, and as her desk comes into view, I let out a sigh of relief.

Thank fuck.

“Morning, Samantha,” I say, my tone soft.

She doesn’t stop typing and keeps her eyes locked on the screen. “Morning, Mr. Vitale.”

Her features are tight, and from the dark circles beneath her eyes, it’s clear she didn’t get any rest last night either.

“Can you come to my office?”

She doesn’t stop working. “Is that a question or order, sir?” “It’s a question.”

“Then the answer is no.”

I have to suppress the urge to drag her to my office and instead ask, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Vitale.”

The printer starts working, and Samantha gets up from her chair. Instead of giving me a wide berth, she pushes me out of the way and begins sorting the papers into piles.

I can feel the anger come off her in waves and brace myself for one hell of a day as I walk to my office.

Shrugging my jacket off, I drape it over the back of my chair. I take a seat at my desk, and reaching for the cup of coffee Samantha placed on my desk, I take a sip.

When I turn my computer on and open my emails, I notice from the timestamp on the first email that Samantha’s been at work since six thirty.

I let out a sigh as I pull both the cellphones out of my pocket, setting them on the desk.

There’s a knock at the door, and before I can answer, Samantha comes

in.

She places a stack of documents on my desk. “I need you to sign

everything before you leave the office.”

“I’m here for the whole day,” I inform her, keeping my tone gentle.

Her eyes lock on the two phones for a moment, then she swings around and walks out of the office.

A moment later, she returns with her cellphone in her hand, and I watch as she types a message.

The burner phone lights up, and taking hold of the device, I unlock the screen.

Samantha: My boss is an asshole.

I knew she would be upset, but it hurts watching her struggle to comprehend that I’m her mystery man.

MMM: Yeah? Do you want me to beat him up?

Her eyes flick to me, then she types again.

Samantha: If only that were possible. Turns out you’re an asshole as well. How stupid of me to think you’re one of the good ones.

MMM: I never claimed to be good.

She shoots me a glare before typing out a message.

Samantha: You made me believe you were good!!! You made me believe I was safe with you. I freaking told you everything. Do you have any idea how shitty that feels? I gave you my trust, and you used it to play me for a fool. What kind of person does that?

MMM: The kind that doesn’t want to lose you. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. You can still trust me.

Samantha: GO. TO. HELL.

She spins around again and hightails it out of my office. She yanks the door shut, the sound reverberating through the room.

MMM: How am I supposed to do that when I’ve found an angel?

She doesn’t reply and I type another message.

MMM: You can be angry at me for the rest of our lives as long as you give me a chance to show you I can make you happy.

Samantha: How do you plan on making me happy when our entire relationship is built on lies?

MMM: I only omitted I’m your boss, so you would get comfortable with me. Everything else has been the truth.

My regular phone vibrates, and a frown forms on my forehead when I see she’s texting me on that number.

Samantha: I have questions. How could you be so nice to me at night, but during the day, you treated me like shit? How can you claim to love me, but you threatened me when I wanted to resign?

Franco: 1. You were making progress, and I didn’t want to do anything to ruin it, so I kept faking to be an asshole at the office. 2. I’ve never threatened you.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Samantha: If your job as a mob boss doesn’t work out, you should go into showbiz. You’re one hell of an actor.

Samantha: BTW…You’re a freaking mafia boss!!!!

The burner phone vibrates, and I switch devices again. Samantha: I don’t know what to do. I miss my boyfriend. MMM: I’m right here, baby.

Samantha: No, you’re not. The man I fell for never existed.

I suck in a deep breath, and feeling frustrated as fuck, I get up from my chair and stalk out of the office.

Samantha’s head snaps up, and her eyes widen on me.

I grab hold of her chair and spin it so she’s facing me. Grabbing hold of the armrests, I lean over her until we’re face-to-face.

My voice is a low rumble. “I exist.”

Her green irises darken with anger. “Yeah, sure. The asshole version of you is standing right in front of me.

I lean another inch closer. “So is the man who told you he fucking loves you.”

“Telling and showing are two different things, Mr. Vitale. You told me many things while you showed me how shitty you treat the people you claim to love.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

I frame Samantha’s face, and keeping her in place, I slam my lips against hers. She gasps, and it gives me entrance to her mouth.

My tongue sweeps over hers, and my soul groans from how good she tastes.

Samantha grabs hold of my forearms, and instead of trying to shove me away, her mouth wars with mine for control.

The kiss is angry and wild. It creates a violent storm in my chest and fills me with a need to consume this woman.

I move an arm to her back, and yanking her to her feet, I squash her against my body as I continue to ravage her mouth.

Samantha brings her hands to my biceps, and she clings to me.

Our lips knead, our teeth tug, and our tongues memorize the taste of each other.

Not caring a flying fuck whether anyone can walk in on us, I lift her and sit her down on the edge of her desk. My mouth frees hers so I can pepper desperate kisses over her jaw and down her neck.

I hear her breaths explode from her before she lets out a soft moan that’s filled with desire.

When I push her knees apart, her hand slaps against my chest, and she tries to shove me backward.

“Wait,” she gasps.

Reluctantly, I pull away, and when our eyes meet, I realize I was going to fuck her on her desk.

I put more space between us, and we keep staring at each other as we catch our breath.

“I might be an asshole, but you can’t deny the connection we have,” I say, my voice hoarse from all the emotions. “I felt it in your kiss, and I see it in your eyes.”

Her cheeks are pink, and her lips swollen. She looks like a fucking goddess as she glares at me, and her voice is tense with anger. “I don’t care about the connection.”

I step closer to her again. “You do, or you wouldn’t have returned my kiss.”

“We come from different worlds,” she argues.

“That doesn’t change a fucking thing, Samantha,” I snap.

She darts off the desk, and jabbing her finger at my chest, she hisses, “It changes everything. Your world is dangerous and filled with crime. You’ll get me killed.”

“I won’t.” I grab hold of her hand and yank her against me. “I’ll protect you with my last breath. I’ve proven I can keep you safe.”

Her eyebrows draw together as some of her anger fizzles away. “You’re one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra.”

“Which means no one will touch a hair on your head.” I place my hands on either side of her neck and lean down until there’s only an inch between us. “I’ll burn New York City to the ground for you. Every ounce of power I possess will belong to you. There’s nowhere safer on this planet than by my side.”

Her eyes begin to shine with unshed tears. “You deceived me.”

My voice is soft as I promise, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”