Bonds and Betrayal: Saved by the Mafia Brothers

As I slipped into my red bodycon dress, a feeling of unease crept over me. Another one of Luke's meetings. He called me his lucky charm, but I sensed there was more to it. Luke had this way of making me feel like I was essential, like his success depended on me. And maybe, in some strange way, it did.

But standing there, adjusting my dress and smoothing out imaginary creases, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to life than being someone's lucky charm. Wasn't there something more meaningful I could be doing? Something that didn't involve standing silently at Luke's side, smiling and nodding in all the right moments?

I pushed the thought aside. Tonight was about Luke. I would do what I always did—support him, even if it meant putting my own desires on hold again. With a last glance in the mirror, I took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

"Finally, there you are," Luke said, his voice carrying a hint of impatience as he looked me up and down. “You look stunning, as always.”

Despite my apprehension, I felt a rush of warmth at his compliment. There was something comforting about the way Luke looked at me sometimes, like I was the most important person in the room. And maybe, in his eyes, I was.

We made our way to the car, the cool night air brushing against my skin. I trailed behind him, a familiar disappointment gnawing at me. He hadn’t really noticed the effort I put into my appearance. It wasn’t about seeking his validation, but a simple compliment would have been nice—an acknowledgment that he saw me.

But there was nothing. No admiring glance, no appreciative word. It was as if he didn’t even notice. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was so caught up in his thoughts and ambitions that he couldn’t see beyond himself.

I pushed aside my hurt feelings as I followed Luke to the car. He climbed in without a second glance, not even bothering to open the door for me. A small gesture, but it still stung. Was it really so difficult for him to show a bit of chivalry?

I remembered his explanations. He’d told me countless times that his lack of compliments didn’t reflect his feelings for me. He just didn’t know how to express himself in that way. So, I’d learned to accept it, to let it slide and pretend it didn’t matter.

But that didn’t make it any easier. Three years together, and I couldn’t remember the last time he offered a genuine compliment. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a constant reminder of my own inadequacy in his eyes.

As I climbed into the car and closed the door, resentment built inside me. Was it too much to ask for a little appreciation, some recognition of my worth? Or was I destined to always play second fiddle to his ambitions?

I shook off the thoughts as we pulled onto the busy street. Tonight was about Luke. I would do what I always did—support him, even if it meant silencing my own feelings.

But as the miles passed, the unease in my stomach only grew. Was this really what I wanted? To spend my life with someone who couldn’t even muster a simple compliment?

We arrived at the destination, and Luke hurried off to his meeting, leaving me to navigate a room full of strangers. Loneliness crept in, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all my life had become—a constant struggle for validation from someone who hardly noticed me.

Then, just as I felt the weight of despair, I heard Luke’s voice, cutting through the crowd. He was smiling, beckoning me over with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. And for a moment, I felt something close to hope. Maybe there was more to our relationship than I realized. Maybe Luke’s inability to express himself wasn’t a sign of indifference but just his way of showing he cared.

I let myself believe it, at least for now.

As we entered the pulsating club, the bass thumped through the air, vibrating under my skin. This wasn’t my scene, but tonight was different. We were heading to the VIP section upstairs, a world apart from the chaos below, where the anticipation hung thick in the air, and the drinks seemed endless.

Navigating the crowd, we reached the stairs leading up to the exclusive area. The noise faded as we climbed, replaced by the low murmur of conversation. I felt a thrill as we moved toward a private booth, tucked away from prying eyes.

But when we stepped inside, the sight made my stomach turn. An older man with wrinkled hands was touching a young girl in a way that made my skin crawl. The scene was grotesque, like something out of a nightmare.

I instinctively tightened my grip on Luke's hand, silently begging him to leave this place with me. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me further into the room, surprising me.

My heart pounded as Luke cleared his throat. "Mr. Agabus, sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice polite but firm. "We can reschedule if now is not a good time."

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. Was he really going to engage with these people? These monsters who preyed on the vulnerable? I wanted to scream at him to leave, to run, but the words were stuck in my throat.

Mr. Agabus, the man whose hands had been all over his companion, looked up, his eyes cold and predatory. "Ah, Luke, my boy," he said, voice dripping with false charm. "No need to reschedule. We can discuss business while we enjoy the finer things in life, can’t we?"

My stomach twisted as I watched the exchange. Luke was deeper in this world than I had realized. He wasn’t just attending a meeting—he was aligning himself with these despicable people, compromising his integrity for a place at their table.

But Luke didn’t flinch. His expression was calm, controlled. "Of course, Mr. Agabus," he said evenly, not betraying any of the turmoil I felt. "Let’s discuss business."