Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 21

Ezra's POV:

The crisp rustle of the bills as she laid them on my desk was a small, satisfying sound in the otherwise silent office. She was efficient, at least. Did what she was told. Most of the time. I finally looked up, my gaze sweeping over her, noting the lingering tension in her shoulders, the guarded look in her eyes. She met my gaze briefly, a flicker of something unreadable before she quickly lowered her head.

"The usual?" I asked, the question more a statement of fact than an actual inquiry. The numbers tallied. She was bringing in decent money.

"Yes," she managed, her voice barely a whisper, still carrying that undercurrent of defiance that both irritated and… intrigued me.

I leaned back in my chair, the worn leather creaking softly beneath me, steepling my fingers as I considered her. "Tomorrow night, you'll be working the VIP room."

Her reaction was immediate, a subtle stiffening of her spine, a flicker of fear that I almost enjoyed seeing. The memory of her bolting from the stage still rankled. That couldn't happen again.

"But... Devlin said I'd be on stage again." Her voice held a hint of protest, a fragile hope that I was about to crush.

A cold smile, one that didn't reach my eyes, touched my lips. "Devlin follows my orders, Davina. And my orders are that tomorrow night, you'll be in the VIP room. A special client has requested your… undivided attention." I said with a smile splattered all over my face.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, I could practically see the frantic beat in the pulse point at her throat. "What does that mean?" The question was barely a breath, laced with a fear that was almost palpable.

My gaze hardened, the pretense of polite indifference vanishing. "It means you will entertain him. You will cater to his every whim. You will ensure he has a memorable night. He's paying a considerable sum for your... time."

"Even if," I confirmed, my voice cold and devoid of any emotion. It was business. Pure and simple. "Your value to me is directly tied to your ability to please my clientele. The more satisfied they are, the faster that debt disappears. Do you understand?"

Her silence was her answer, a defeated resignation in her wide, terrified eyes. Good. She was finally starting to grasp the reality of her situation.

I watched her for a long, tense moment, her distress a stark contrast to the usual bravado she tried to project. Then, with a dismissive wave of my hand, the conversation over, I said, "You're dismissed."

She turned and practically fled my office, the unspoken command echoing in the sudden silence, the weight of her impending fate, a fate she was fighting tooth and nail against, a subtle pressure I enjoyed exerting. The money she had earned was a start, but it was a long road. Little did she know that her generous client was none other than her own boss. Myself. I am still owed a lap dance and to have a taste of her. Tomorrow night would be a significant step on that road. A step she wouldn't be taking willingly, which, in a twisted way, made it all the more… interesting.