The Mafia Boss Slapped A Poor Girl At A Luxury Party—Then Her Next Move Left Him Frozen

By 10:00 AM, the penthouse on the fortieth floor smelled of stale tobacco and panic.

Paxton’s remaining capos—three men who had spent a decade enforcing his will across the city—were standing around his desk, shouting over one another.

"My guys are walking, Paxton!" Tony, the oldest capo, yelled, slamming his hand down. "The union stewards won't unlock the gates in Detroit! They say the payroll bounce was the final straw!"

"Offer them cash!" Paxton barked, his tie loose, his hair wild. "We have the emergency safe in the basement!"

"The safe is empty!" Marcus snapped, walking into the office with a crowbar in his hand. "I just came up from the basement. The lock was opened using your master key code at four this morning."

Paxton stood up so fast his leather chair flipped backward.

"My code?" Paxton whispered. "How could she have my code?"

"She wrote the security system, boss!" Marcus shouted, losing his composure for the first time. "She had every code! She had every key! We don't have cash, we don't have lawyers, and Delgado just got spotted entering the federal courthouse!"

Paxton looked around the room. The men who had feared him twelve hours ago were now looking at him with eyes full of calculation and disgust.

"Get out," Paxton whispered.

"What did you say?" Tony asked, stepping closer.

"I said get out!" Paxton roared, pulling a black semi-automatic pistol from his desk drawer and pointing it at them. "All of you! Get out of my building!"