Mafia's Love and Desire

“Let's play a game,” Rickey said, his eyes darted around Maya. Her veins throbbed on her forehead.

“I'm sure I don't need to remind you what'll happen if you don't get the job done.” Maya gritted her teeth, stepping back slightly, her eyes rolled as she lowered her chin, pulling it back toward her neck.

Rickey was a mob boss—one of the most feared in the city. Around him were gangsters and errand boys, all loyal members of his crew. The room reeked of gunpowder, whiskey, and sin, clinging to their skin like a second cloak.

“I'm counting on you, baby.” He smiled, lifting a glass of whiskey to his lips. Maya's lips tightened into a white slash as she clenched her jaw, muttering inaudible words. She took a deep breath and held it.

“If you had to kill one friend to save the others, who would you pick?” he asked, nodding toward the room where several women were held captive.

"You,” she answered without hesitation. Her skin bunched around her eyes. Neck corded, curling her toes and clutching to herself. But, it faded into a soft smile that slipped off her lips.

"You know why I like you?” Rickey said. “You're brave. Fearless. And that's what I need on my team.” He leaned forward, staring directly into her eyes. A lump rose in her throat. Her muscles stiffened—not from fear, but silent fury.

“Now listen. If you would rather not end up like them”—he gestured toward the girls. Then play your cards right. You're only there for tonight.

No mistakes!" He backed away. Raya let out a quiet, wincing gasp and forced a small smile.

“That's more like it. Don't let me down. Peter's going with you.” Her face tightened, lips pressed together in a slight grimace.

“Sh*t,” she muttered under her breath, turning away. Peter stepped forward, ready.

“Here.” Rickey tossed her a gown, making her flinch.

“Now go out there and look pretty while I take care of business.”

She ran a hand through her hair, fists clenched, fingernails biting into her palms. Her face scrunched, then relaxed as she tried to appear calm.

She walked out of the whiskey-and-gunpowder-scented room, one hand tucked beneath her skirt. Peter followed closely behind. They got into the car.

Maya sat in the back. Two other vehicles flanked them—front and rear. Escape was impossible. She glanced out the window. A mother fastened a colorful necklace around her daughter’s neck near a supermarket. Maya shut her eyes briefly, her shoulders slumped and posture limp.

A longing gaze at the street as people walked. Then a face that fell into her lap, sinking her back into her seat. The world closed in. What was she thinking? What was she really up to? No one would ever know.

Maya had grown up under the roof of a mafia don—her father—and a fashion entrepreneur—her mother—with two or three thriving businesses scattered across the city.

Everything changed after a brutal family feud. Her mother left. Her father remarried. And Maya? She was trapped. Loyalty was her only leverage against Rickey’s grip.

But like her mother, Maya was strong. Resilient. And she wouldn’t go down without a fight. A heavy sigh left her lips, but the intent remained; burning within her.

Slowly, she reached under her skirt and retrieved a golden pendant—her mother’s gift on her 16th birthday. She is twenty-five now. A whole decade without her family. Just days before her 18th birthday, everything collapsed.

The devil came knocking. Rickey didn’t rescue her. He claimed her and kept her hostage.

Now, as she clutched the pendant to her chest, longing burned within her. An ache so deep it became physical. She had to get out. Even if a more dangerous enemy lurked behind, she’d had to face it.

But one question echoed in her mind: Would she ever be reunited with her family again? She touched her temples and closed her eyes, her chest tightening. Curling into the seat, she stared at the pendant in her hand as it slipped to the floor.

“I need to do this… for my family,” she whispered through clenched teeth, brushing strands of fear off her face. As her eyes scanned the car for exits, she remembered—she wasn’t alone.

Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a penknife, gripping it tightly. Spit pooled at the corner of her mouth as tension built in her neck. Her hands flexed and inflexed around the blade. Shoulders tensed. Knuckles cracked.

The pounding in her ears grew louder. Her vision clouded. She wanted more. She wanted freedom. Even if it was a bloody risk. Just then, the car stopped. A guard opened the door.

“Sh*t,” she muttered again, slipping the knife back into her dress. She forced a tight smile and didn’t look at him.

“We're here. We wait outside while you and Maya go in,” the guard said. She turned her head away, her mouth pinched. They better not think I'm on their side.

“Lead the way,” she said coldly. Peter’s gaze followed her closely. The building loomed above them, casting a glow on her face.

“Quite tall, she muttered. "I bet I know who this billionaire tycoon is.” Her gaze shifted to Peter, who looked unfazed.

“Let's go in. Room 323. Upstairs,” he said. Her mouth curved into a smile, quickly fading.

“Sure. After you,” she replied, eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Don't try anything stupid. You're surrounded.” She smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

They climbed the stairs and reached Room 323. Just as Peter was about to knock, the door opened. A man stood there. Shed rack—a billionaire tied to the government. His green eyes pierced through them, his jaw sharp.

“I think I know you,” he said to Peter, curiosity lighting his face.

“He looks familiar,” Maya thought.

"Was it at the charity gala? Her eyes titled slightly thinking.

“Rickey’s boys, right?” Shedrack asked, narrowing his eyes. Maya coughed.

“No, Mr. Shedrack. He’s not.” Her voice was rough, prompting him to study her closely. She swallowed, then tried to calm herself.

“I mean, you might be mistaking him for someone else. He’s with me.” She let out again, this time flashing him a warm smile, but he looked away. He wasn't buying it.

"I'm just here to protect her. I'm not working for anyone." Peter finally spoke up. Maya pinched him with a stare that faltered almost immediately. Shedrack wasn’t convinced.

“Sweetheart, Shedrack said, turning to Maya. I think I’ve met you before.” Their stares intensified.

“I’m confused—Rickey is your boss, right?” Maya's lips twitched.

“We’ve met before,” she whispered in her mind, her voice hoarse.

“He saved me once at a gala… during a shooting scene.” Her mind flashing back as the memories flickered in. Shedrack's brows wrinkled. His arms folded. His lips flattened.

“Smoky rooms, fierce loyalty, secret-society vibes—that's what you two are giving right now.” Maya rubbed the back of her neck. Peter’s hands were sweaty. His pupils dilated. “Prostitution. Loan sharking. Fraud. You name it. Just do you know Rickey won’t let you go. He’ll use you until you break! And I fear you may never get free.”

“Enough! Rickey is not my boss! Maya snapped, then forced a soft smile.

“Actually, I’m here to see you.” Shedrack studied her. Maya squinted, faking calm.

“One second.” She said pressing her tummy as she bolted into a nearby room, covering her mouth as if about to throw up. Peter followed her inside.

“I’m fine, Peter. Just… stomach issues. Wait for me in the sitting room.” She pressed her hand to her stomach for the umpteenth time. Then—the click of a lock from the outside.

Peter rushed to the door—locked from outside. No use. He turned to the bathroom— Maya was gone through the toilet exit, only to bump into another room.

“You fall so easily Maya.” A voice said from behind, pointing a gun to her forehead.