The Contract: A Mafia Vows Prequel

by SR Jones

  I think I might be.

  I cover my mouth with my hand and try to breathe through my nose as terror invades every cell in my body.

  Someone squats down and puts their face level with the fallen man’s. I recognize the new face. It’s one of my uncle’s bodyguards, the big one … Damen.

  “Tell us right the fuck now who set you up to this, or kiss your sorry existence goodbye.” Damen shakes the man as he growls in his ear.

  There’s a chuckle, and I recognize my uncle’s laugh.

  “I’d do as he says. This one isn’t like Alesso. He doesn’t give the benefit of the doubt, and to be honest, I have a hard time controlling him. So either tell us what we need to know, or he’ll end you.”

  “I swear, Stamatis,” the man on the ground babbles. “I would tell you if I knew. Come on, who wants to die? Of course, I would tell you, but I honestly don’t know. I got the instructions via text from a burner phone that some kid dropped at my house. All I know is they’re out to get you.”

  “And you helped them.” My uncle’s voice is deceptively calm. “You turned against me after all I’ve done for you and yours, and you sold me down the river. If I didn’t have friends within law enforcement, the stunt you pulled could have put me behind bars and made my competitors very happy. So, you tell me, should I let you live?”

  The man starts to cry, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Stamatis, I beg of you. I’ll do anything you ask! Please don’t kill me, for Odette and the children’s sake.”

  “Tell you what.” My uncle squats down too, and I can see his face, just from my angle on the floor. “Because I am loyal, unlike you, I will look after them when you’re gone. They won’t suffer for your sins. Odette is a beautiful woman, and in time she’ll find another man to warm her bed, but until then, they will have money and protection from me. Luckily for you, my friend, I’m a benevolent god when it comes to those of my flock who stray. You must, of course, pay for your sins, but I won’t expect the same of your family.”

  He stands, and his knees creak and click as he does. “Do it,” he orders.

  Damen doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the man’s neck in his huge arms and twists.

  I look away, but I can still hear the breath wheezing out of the dying man, so I cover my ears, tears falling down my face, until it’s over.

  I can’t catch my breath, and I am so fucking scared they’ll hear me wheezing and gulping.

  “Piece of shit,” Damen says, and his voice is cold as ice.

  “Sometimes, Damen, I swear, you scare me.” My uncle chuckles as their footsteps head away from the wall.

  When I hear the basement door slam, I count to one hundred and flee my hiding place and go find Stella. My heart is pounding, and my legs are weak and shaky. I tell her I’ve been sick and need to go home.

  She clearly believes me, and who wouldn’t. I’m trembling, probably pale as death, and if I don’t get out of my uncle’s house, I’ll pass out, I know it.

  In future, I’ll avoid visiting Uncle’s house.

  I’ll never forget what Damen did. If even my uncle struggles to control him, he’s not safe to be around. He’s one scary man, and I never want to find myself alone with him.

  Damen will haunt my nightmares now.

  The next few days pass in aching boredom.

  It’s late afternoon, and my parents are both out. I’m bored, frustrated, and horny. So damn horny. I don’t think it’s wise to make a young woman of my age be celibate. The hormones circulating in me could probably power the lights for the whole nation. Scientists could give up their search for a method of nuclear fusion and simply fuel the world on the hormones of young women made to be celibate.

  When I get like this, only one thing takes it away. My dangerous game.

  I tell myself no, I can’t do it. Not again. There’s only so many chances before I get caught. It’s Russian Roulette I’m playing, and I’ve already fired most of the chambers in the gun. One of these days, my father will come home early and walk in on me, and then I’ll be dead. Figuratively from the shame, and literally, most likely, from the beating I’ll get. Daddy likes to hit me; not particularly hard, but I know this would lead to something much worse than I’ve received from him so far.

  The itch under my skin is almost unbearable, though. I want to march into that guardroom and sit on Alesso’s knee, make him so hard he slides his big dick into me. I bet it is big. Although, Damen’s is probably bigger if the general size of the two men is anything to go by. For a moment I get an odd little thrill as I think of Damen and his big dick, but I push it to one side. He’s not the one I’m interested in. Alesso is.

  Fuck it. I’m going to give him a show. I swear to myself this will be the very last time. I think I’m a little bit addicted to this, and that in and of itself tells me I need to stop. One last show, a goodbye of sorts. Then I’m done.

  I think I’ll hit the indoor pool today.

  Smiling to myself, I pull on my gold swimsuit. With its deep v at my cleavage and high cut legs, it’s sexy as hell. Then I cover it with a huge fluffy robe and push my feet into furry slippers. Padding down the hallway, holding onto a towel, my nerves build. I don’t get why I keep doing this, but it’s like a fix for me. The anxiety at first, then the heady excitement mixed with heart-pounding terror as I put on the show itself, followed by the calm after the storm.

  I think it’s the calm after the storm I’m actually chasing. The post high come-down, where for once I can relax and not stress and worry about notes taped to our door or my husband to be.

  I get to the pool and take off my robe, shooting a cheeky glance to the camera and what I know is Alesso behind it, watching this.

  Then I slither into the pool and swim up to the float in the center of the pool. I climb onto it, with as much grace as I can muster, which isn’t easy. Once I’m on it, I close my eyes for a bit and let my fingers trail in the water.

  Is he watching? I try to see if I can feel his eyes on me, but can’t, and I smile at my own stupidity. My fingers are still trailing in the water as my arms hang off either side of the float. I bring my hands up out of the water and to my breasts where I trail them over the firm flesh, before squeezing my tits and rubbing my thumbs over my nipples.

  God, that feels good. It would feel better if Alesso were doing it. I squeeze my breasts until I know I’ve got an awesome amount of cleavage showing in my low-cut swimsuit, and I sigh at the throbbing ache between my legs.

  I play with my tits some more then move my hands down my body and skim over my tingling core. Today, I think I’ll give Alesso more of a show than he’s used to. Instead of playing with myself with my swimsuit in place, I pull it to one side and expose my shaved and wet slit to the cool air.

  I shiver and let out a little moan. He won’t hear it, we don’t have audio with the cameras, but hopefully he’ll see it and know what it is.

  Eyes fluttering closed, I start to strum myself, playing with my clit. I imagine Alesso, his dark head bent as he licks me there. Would he be gentle? Or is the nice, easygoing demeanor and handsome face nothing more than a front? He’s a killer, so he can’t be all that nice. Maybe he’ll be rough?

  Damen definitely would be rough. For a moment, the fantasy running through my mind changes to one of Damen over me, those dark eyes of his staring at me as if he sees into my very soul, right before he thrusts his massive cock deep inside me.

  My eyes shoot open and, for a moment, I’m disoriented. Why did I think of him?

  The float wobbles, and I have to hold on to keep my balance. The moment is over, and today Alesso won’t get to see me come. I keep my composure, barely, as I pull my swimsuit into place, tip myself off the float, and swim to the edge of the pool. I climb out, and without bothering to dry off, pull the robe around myself. Throwing a wink to the camera, as if I planned to cut this short all along, I saunter out of there.

  I’m shaken, though, and I know for a fact, I won’t be doing this anymore. It’s rui
ned for me. Whether because it’s starting to feel too dangerous, or because of the fact that since he gave me that burning hot look at the café, Damen seems to be infiltrating my brain more and more.

  Back in my room, I don’t even finish myself off. I’m in a strange mood where nothing feels right, not even my own skin. I want to crawl out of it and go for a walk as a different person, as someone who has a life and free will.

  I can’t, though, so I play these silly games.

  God, I wish I had something to do.

  The evening yawns ahead of me. Damen is due to watch me tonight, and he’s the last thing I want to think about after that strange moment in the pool.

  Mother and Daddy are at the opera. They asked if I wanted to go, but I can’t imagine anything worse than sitting through that screeching racket for hours on end on hard little seats. No thanks. I’m going to go to the small cinema room, with a huge tub of popcorn and watch Legally Blonde, maybe Legally Blonde Two as well. I love Reese Witherspoon. She’s so funny.

  My phone buzzes, and I look to see a text from Stella.

  Can you talk?

  I don’t bother to text back and instead Facetime her.

  “Have you seen the gossip columns today?” she asks without preamble.

  “No.”

  I rarely look at them. Despite being one of the wealthier young women in Athens, and a bit of a socialite, I’m not featured in the columns because Daddy is seen as being beyond the pale, and my uncle is too scary to report on. Aggatha Soulis, who lives three houses away in a much smaller residence than us, is always in the papers because she’s an actress, yet she has half our money and none of my extended family’s clout. Strange how the world works. The real power is never the one you see.

  “Don’t get upset,” Stella says, and this grabs my attention.

  “Why would I get upset?”

  “Yannis has been allegedly having an affair with Aggatha, your neighbor. There are pictures of them leaving a club, drunk, him all over her. They’re from a year or so ago.”

  It takes a moment for her words to sink in. Yannis, my husband-to-be, with my neighbor, who is at least forty!

  Ugh. Beyond my incredulity at the news, I find I’m not bothered.

  “I don’t care what he does,” I tell Stella truthfully.

  “It’s not that…” Her voice sounds shaky, unsure.

  What the hell? “Spit it out, Stella,” I demand.

  “She’s claiming he beat her, raped her, was abusive and, frankly, she thinks he’s insane. It has come to light because someone hacked her medical notes and found extensive treatment for fractures, cuts, bruising, and one for … for an anal tear.”

  Her words don’t sink in.

  What the fuck? Poor Aggatha. I don’t really know her, but she’s always been nice to me. Her face is sweet, and I always felt she had an innocent, almost childlike quality about her. What a bastard!

  Then my mind catches up with what this means for me. I’m marrying that bastard. In a few weeks.

  “Fuck.” I try not to panic, but the thought of having to share his bed now fills me with dread.

  Stella shakes her head. “You ought to show your mother, see if she’ll let you out of it. It’s not normal in this day and age, Maya, anyway. Who gets arranged marriaged in Greece anymore?”

  “Marriaged isn’t a word,” I reply with a huff. I don’t want a lecture on what to do right now, not when my panic is rising to epic levels. I need to think.

  “He’s not all that, is he?” Stella holds the gossip page up to the iPad screen she’s talking to me on. “How does he think he can get away with treating women like that?”

  Easily, probably. Many men still do get away with treating women like that.

  The picture on the page is of Yannis and Aggatha stumbling out of a nightclub. She looks as glamorous as ever. She’s naturally light haired with warm brown eyes, and still looks good despite her age and alleged love of booze and recreational drugs. Yannis doesn’t do as well in front of the cameras, and he appears tired as well as drunk.

  “Why the hell do you have to be a virgin when he must have screwed half of Greece by now? First time I’ve seen him in the gossip columns, though.” Stella shakes her head. “Bet his father goes demented when he sees this. Your families aren’t really in the business of wanting publicity, are you? You know you ought to fuck someone, then his father won’t want you to marry him,” she says.

  “Or,” I reply, “they still want me to marry him, and then Yannis punishes me for not being a virgin as promised. Shit.”

  “Babe, you’ve got to get out of this.” She grimaces as she talks.

  I have to laugh at the expression she pulls. Her family is so respectable it’s untrue. Her mother is a doctor and her father a lawyer. How we ended up friends I don’t know, but I’m so grateful we did.

  “How’s your love life?” I ask her, needing a distraction for a while.

  “Dead,” she says. “I think I’m too fussy. I like blonds for a start. You don’t get many of them here.”

  “I’ve told you so many times, get yourself to the islands in the summer. Tons of Australians and Brits and the like. You can take your pick of hot blond men.”

  “I don’t want a fling, though; I want more. And of course, I’m not so shallow as to rule out men with dark hair,” she says with a sigh. “But I can’t seem to meet someone I like. Someone who wants the things I do.”

  Stella wants to travel. She wants to explore the world. Already, she’s trekked to Everest base camp, and climbed Kilimanjaro, and she’s only twenty-one. I admire her, but it’s not for me. She got the raging shits in Nepal, and then on top of that got mild altitude sickness. Told me the beds she slept on were rock hard. And every day they were trekking for miles, feeling so unwell. I don’t get it myself. She says it’s beautiful there, but so is Greece, and here you don’t have to deal with all of that. Here we have sun, and sea, and, if you’re rich, the good life.

  “You’ll meet someone one day, on one of your treks or holidays,” I tell her.

  “I’ve got to go, babe, need a pee,” she says with a smile.

  “Okay, darling. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” She blows me a kiss.

  I sit back and stare at the wall.

  How the hell am I going to get out of this marriage?

  I can’t settle so I head out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen. I need comfort food, even though I’m supposed to be getting in shape for the wedding.

  Our housekeeper, Rita, is there, writing a shopping list. She is like an honorary grandmother to me. Which is good, because my grandparents on my father’s side are both dead, and on Mother’s side, they’re often in Germany these days, so I don’t see them regularly.

  I traipse to the fridge, open it, and take out a glass ramekin full of Tiramisu Rita made.

  “You should watch what you eat,” she mumbles.

  I shoot her an annoyed glance. “This ass doesn’t happen by accident, you know,” I sass her.

  Rita smiles. “No, true. But what’s cute and hot when you’re in your twenties just turns to fat and saggy when you hit forty. Mark my words.” She pinches her hips, grabbing a handful of flesh. “I know.”

  I sigh and sit opposite her, digging into her creamy confection. “Maybe I want to get fat so my husband-to-be doesn’t want me.”

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  I lean in and lower my voice. “He’s a freak, and I’m scared to marry him.”

  Rita pats my hand. “Don’t worry, child. I know there are rumors about him, but he won’t treat his wife the way he treats those other women. You’ll be someone he respects.”

  I don’t laugh at her as that would be cruel, but I think she’s very wrong on this score. I won’t be someone he respects, far from it. He might, at best, ignore me, or treat me like some possession he checks on every now and again. I’m sure if I get pregnant quickly, he’ll let me pop out two or three kids then leave me
well alone, while he gets his fun elsewhere. It’s pretty shitty that it’s the best I can hope for right now.

  I roll my eyes and sigh.

  I take a big mouthful of the Tiramisu and nearly choke on it when Damen comes into the kitchen from the house, not the garage, which is the direction he should be coming in if he has just arrived for his shift.

  He rides his motorcycle here most days when he works, and he’s not wearing his helmet, and his hair is not mussed the way it is when he first gets here.

  Oh Lord, no. Please no.

  “You finished for the night, Damen?” Rita asks.

  What? I don’t understand. He wasn’t meant to be working.

  “Yeah, Alesso is starting his shift; it’s worked out well for me swapping.”

  His dark eyes turn to me, pinning me to the spot.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I put the show on for the wrong guy.

  He seems about to head out, and I thank God he hasn’t said anything more. I’m dying of mortification, literally squirming where I sit. As soon as he’s gone, I’m going to run to my room and have the biggest freak out … ever.

  Damen nears the door but pivots.

  “Maya, can I have a word, please?” He’s all politeness, but I want to throw up.

  I slide off my stool and walk toward him, and halfway there I think I should’ve let him come to me. Instead, I’m walking to him like a naughty child. Rita bustles out of the room, closing the door behind her, and I want to scream for her to come back.

  Damen wastes no time in making me feel like crap. “As hot as that little show was, you ought to know, he’s not interested; got a girl back on the island.”

  I want the ground to open me up, or to die, right now, on the spot.

  Why did I do this?

  Why play such a risky and stupid game?

  Now Damen thinks I’m desperate, and I expect he and Alesso have had a good laugh about me.

  All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved and to be treated as if I’m worth something, and now Damen has made me feel the lowest of the low. And it’s all my own fault for doing such a fucked-up thing in the first place.