Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

”I’m not isolating. I’m just....” Isabella looked at her reflection again. ”I’m just trying to move on.”

Enzo was quiet for a moment.

Then: ”If you need anything, if you need someone to talk to, someone to help....I’m here. Okay? Despite everything with Dimitri, despite the family politics, I’m here.”

Something in Isabella’s chest cracked.

When was the last time someone had offered help without wanting something in return?

When was the last time someone had actually cared about her wellbeing instead of her usefulness?

”Thank you,” she whispered. ”That means more than you know.”

”I mean it. Call me if you need anything.”

”I will.”

She wouldn’t. But it was nice to pretend.

They said goodbye.

Isabella set down her phone, looked at herself in the mirror one more time.

Enzo thought she was isolating.

He had no idea she was doing the opposite, desperately seeking connection, attention, touch from anyone who would give it to her.

He had no idea she’d become the kind of woman who begged strangers to fuck her.

He had no idea how far she’d fallen.

Isabella turned away from the mirror, walked into the bathroom.

She needed a bath. Needed to wash away the shame of her conversation with Enzo. Needed to prepare herself for what was coming.

The water was hot....almost too hot....and Isabella sank into it with a sigh.

She had maybe two hours before he might show up.

If he showed up at all.

Isabella closed her eyes, let the water soothe her aching muscles, and tried not to think about how different her life had become.

Three months ago, she’d been Dimitri Valentino’s fiancée. Poised to become one of the most powerful women in the organization. Respected. Feared. Important.

Now?

Now she was alone in her apartment, waiting for a man whose name she didn’t know to decide if she was worth his time.

God, when had she become this person?

Isabella stayed in the bath until the water went cold.

Then she got out, dried off, and began the process of making herself beautiful for someone who would probably treat her like garbage.

But at least when he was inside her, when he was making her scream...

At least for those few hours, she could forget.

Forget Dimitri. Forget her rejection. Forget how pathetic she’d become.

And that forgetting was worth any amount of shame.

Isabella finished her makeup, checked her lingerie, spritzed expensive perfume on her wrists and throat.

Then she went to the living room, poured herself a glass of wine, and waited.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Isabella was starting to think he wouldn’t come when there was a knock at her door.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

She set down her wine glass, moved to the door, checked the peephole.

A man stood there....tall, dark-haired, face partially shadowed by the hallway lighting.

Him.

Isabella’s hands shook as she reached for the doorknob.

This was it.

Another night of using someone who looked like Dimitri to forget the man she couldn’t have.

Another night of hating herself while desperately needing the temporary relief only rough sex could provide.

Another night of falling apart.

Isabella took a breath, pasted on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and opened the door.

The man stepped through her doorway, and Isabella’s breath caught.

He looked like Dimitri.

God, in the dim lighting of her apartment, with his face partially shadowed, he could have been Dimitri.

Same height. Same broad shoulders. Same predatory grace as he moved toward her.

”You kept me waiting,” Isabella said, trying for confidence but hearing the desperation in her own voice.

”I told you I’d come when I felt like it.” His voice was cold. Hard. ”Close the door.”

Isabella obeyed, her hands shaking slightly.

He was here. He’d actually come.

And from the look in his eyes...dark, hungry, dangerous, she was going to get exactly what she’d been begging for.

The man circled her slowly, his gaze traveling over her body in the black lace lingerie.

”You got dressed up for me,” he observed. ”How sweet.”

”I wanted to...I thought you’d like...”

”Turn around.”

Isabella turned, felt his eyes on her back, her ass, her legs.

”You’re so desperate to please,” he said, and there was cruelty in his voice. ”So desperate for attention that you’ll put on a show for a man whose name you don’t even know. Do you have any self-respect left, Isabella?”

The words should have hurt.

Should have made her angry.

But instead, they made her wet.

Because he was right. She had no self-respect anymore. Just desperate, aching need.

”No,” she whispered. ”I don’t.”

”Good. That makes this easier.”

He grabbed her hair....sudden, rough, and yanked her head back.

Isabella gasped, her back arching, her throat exposed.

”Tonight you’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” he said against her ear. ”No questions. No hesitation. You’re going to be a good little whore and take everything I give you. Understand?”

”Yes....”

”Yes what?”

”Yes....” Isabella faltered. She didn’t know his name. ”Yes, sir.”

”Better.” He released her hair, spun her around to face him. ”On your knees.”

Isabella dropped immediately, the hardwood floor cold against her knees.

He unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact.

”You’re going to suck my cock,” he said conversationally. ”And while you do, you’re going to remember that you’re doing this because Dimitri Valentino doesn’t want you. Because you’re so broken that you’ll put a stranger’s cock in your mouth just to feel wanted for a few hours.”

Isabella felt tears prick behind her eyes but didn’t protest.

Just opened her mouth when he freed himself....thick, long, already hard.

He pushed inside without warning, without gentleness, hitting the back of her throat immediately.

Isabella gagged, tried to pull back, but his hand fisted in her hair and held her in place.

”Take it,” he commanded. ”All of it.”

She tried. Breathed through her nose. Relaxed her throat. Let him use her mouth like it was nothing more than a hole for his pleasure.