"A billionaire’s son shoved me to the marble floor of a packed Manhattan restaurant, then stood over me while wealthy strangers watched in silence. He thought I was just a waitress he could humiliate without consequences, until the most feared man in the room pushed back his chair and stood up.

Living at the DeLuca estate was like existing inside a beautiful, terrifying gilded cage.

I was given a guest suite that was larger than my entire Queens apartment. The bed was massive, the linens were silk, and my wardrobe was mysteriously filled with expensive, tailored suits and elegant dresses in my exact size.

For the first three days, I rested my hip and explored the grounds. Everywhere I went, heavily armed men in dark suits watched me with quiet respect.

On the fourth night, Marco knocked on my door.

“The boss is ready for you, Ms. Martinez. It’s time to see the club.”

I changed into one of the new outfits—a sleek, dark emerald pantsuit that made me feel like armor—and rode into the city with Marco.

The Obsidian was hidden beneath a towering skyscraper in the financial district. It was exclusive, dark, and dripped with wealth. The walls were lined with velvet, the music pulsed with a heavy, intoxicating beat, and the clientele included politicians, celebrities, and mobsters making quiet deals in the shadows.

Victor was waiting for me in the VIP lounge overlooking the dance floor.

“Welcome to your new kingdom, Anna,” Victor said, handing me a crystal glass of champagne.

“It’s overwhelming,” I admitted, looking down at the packed crowd.

“You’ll manage,” he said confidently. “Your job is simple. Keep the waitstaff organized, ensure the VIPs are happy, and report anything unusual directly to me. Marco’s men will handle any security issues.”

For the next few weeks, I threw myself into the work. It was demanding, but I loved it. I sent enough money to my mother’s care facility to pay her off for the next six months. I felt powerful. I felt safe.

But the tension between Victor and me was growing into something undeniable.

Late one night, after the club closed, I found him in the empty lounge, rubbing his temples, looking exhausted.

I poured him a glass of whiskey and set it on the table.

“Long night?” I asked quietly.

Victor looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The cold, ruthless mafia boss vanished for a fraction of a second, revealing a man who was deeply, profoundly lonely.