Mafia's Contract Wife: A Crazy Chemistry

Sarah’s POV

I should’ve stayed home.

That thought echoed in my mind like a desperate prayer as I stood in the middle of the chaos…music pounding, lights flashing, bodies pressed too close. I hated clubs. Always had. But tonight wasn’t about me. Tonight was about him.

John Hills… my boyfriend, who is the birthday boy and the man I thought I’d spend forever with.

I stood near the edge of the crowd, watching him laugh in the middle of his circle — all blinding white teeth and smooth charm, soaking in the attention like a god among worshippers. He looked happy. And for a brief second, that made the noise worth it.

But only for a second, until something pulled at me like a chill beneath the heat. It was that gut feeling that something was off. Then, my eyes scanned the room and landed on her.

Eloha. My stepsister and rival in silence.

She stood stiffly in the corner, arms crossed, eyes narrowed into something darker than usual. She wasn’t glaring at John or even looking at me. She was just… watching, perhaps waiting.

Then, our eyes met for a split second before she looked away, instantly, a knot formed in my stomach.

I should’ve walked up to her. Asked what was wrong. But Eloha wasn’t the type to accept kindness. Especially not from me. Every time I tried, she recoiled like I was poison and tonight wouldn’t be different either, so I stayed where I was.

“Let the birthday boy dance with his girlfriend!” someone shouted, dragging me back to the present as a spotlight swung toward us, which made my heart stuttered.

With that, the crowd began to chant. “Dance! Dance! Dance!”

I swallowed my nerves and forced a smile, walking into the circle. John pulled me into his arms with practiced ease, his hands warm and familiar. We swayed, people cheered, and for a moment I pretended the tension in my chest wasn’t real.

“Happy birthday, John!” the crowd roared as the MC raised his mic, so I clapped and laughed along — until something cold crashed into my dress.

A wine. it was red, sticky and all over me.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” the girl gasped. “I didn’t mean to…”

I took one look at her panicked face and sighed. “It’s okay,” I said, forcing a calm reaction. “I’ll just clean up.”

Soon, the club’s energy faded behind me as I pushed through the crowd, having my dress clung to my skin, I muttered under my breath, eyes darting around. “Where the hell was the restroom?”

Then, blinding lights and screeching tires clouded my sight as a car swerved, missing me by inches.

“Are you out of your mind?!” I screamed, my pulse racing like a war drum.

As the door slammed open and a tall man stepped out — sharply dressed, radiating arrogance like it was stitched into his skin.

His eyes were like oil slicks — dark, unreadable, and cold enough to make my breath hitch.

“Who the fuck are you to yell at me like that?” he snapped. “Do you even know who I am?”

I crossed my arms, trembling but defiant. “I don’t care if you’re the damn Pope. You almost hit me. Apologize like a decent human being.”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked as he replied. "You’ll regret those words."

Hearing this, I scoffed nonchalantly, rolling my eyes over and snapped. “Crazy and mannerless people like you, are the reason I hate clubs.”

And with that, I walked off, not waiting to hear another word from the entitled asshole.

****

After what felt like forever, I finally found the restroom. So I cleaned myself up, but the run-in with that stranger lingered like smoke in my lungs. There was something about him — something that made my skin crawl and my heart stutter at the same time.

Not long after, I made my way back just in time for the toast. John caught my eye and raised his glass. I smiled back, though my chest felt hollow.

The bartender leaned over. “Drink for the toast?”

I hesitated. Alcohol and I don’t mix. But one drink. What harm could it do? I said to myself as I accepted the drink from the bartender and glup it down my throat.

Fifteen minutes later… My chest began to burn as my skin felt too tight. The room swam around me like a slow hurricane, at that point, I knew something was wrong.

My mouth turned dry, my vision blurred and my legs… they barely obeyed me. I tried to move toward the restroom again — but stumbled. Then, a voice called. “Ma’am?” Looking up, I realized It was the bartender. “You don’t look well.” He said. “There’s a private restroom upstairs. Come, I’ll help you.”

Though my instincts whispered no, but my body was shutting down. So I nodded.

The guest room upstairs was cool, clean, and quiet. A bed sat in the center, too large for comfort.

“Where… where’s the restroom?” I asked weakly.

“There.” He gestured vaguely, and not long, I collapsed onto the bed, my body on fire, and my breath turned shallow. “I’m… so hot…”

“I’ll get one of your friends to come take you home,” he said, and vanished. But I was too far gone to care.

"I’m… so hot," I whispered yet again, but, this time, I began tugging at my dress.

And then… I felt a hand caressing my thighs and a warm lips meeting mine as my dress began slipping off and the heat, pressure and weight was more than I could handle.

I couldn’t stop it not even if I try to and processing it, felt like a hefty luggage as that immediate seconds turned into the most passionate moment of my life.

However, somewhere in the room...unnoticed… a small red light blinked. It was recording.

*****

The Next Morning

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The heavy knock jarred me awake, gasping. My limbs were tangled with someone else’s, so does my body ached. I looked down and froze. I was naked and next to me… him… The arrogant man from the parking lot.

Immediately, my stomach dropped.

“What are you doing here?” I rasped, but he didn’t answer. He just ran a hand through his hair and threw the blanket off, storming to the door.

“Vincenzo!” someone shouted as it opened. “Bro, what the hell?! You’re just waking up after all that?!”

Vincenzo. That was his name?

He squinted, while rubbing his temples tiredly, and blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about, Jackson?"

The other man — lean, sharp-eyed — waved a phone in his face. “You trended all night. A sex tape. Nude shots. It’s everywhere, man!”

My blood turned to ice.

“What?!” Vincenzo barked, grabbing the phone.

“I tried to pull it down,” the guy said. “But it was already reposted across a hundred pages. It’s out there.”

"Fuck!" Vincenzo cursed violently.

No. No. No. I murmured to quietly as I sat frozen, cold and shaking as my soul left my body. “W-who was the girl?” I asked, as my voice trembled.

Then, the man peeked into the room and locked eyes with me as he spoke in form of a question. “Oh... you’re the girl.” Swiftly, he returned his gaze to Vincenzo. “This is where it happened, isn’t it?”

Hearing this, my heart collapsed in my chest as tears stung my eyes, because my life, as I knew it, was over.

Almost immediately, a sound erupted from somewhere in the room, jolting me. A sound I knew all too well–my own ringtone.

Scrambling toward the purse that lay on the ground due to last night's incidents, I took out my phone, my breath stuck in my throat once I saw the caller.

That one name played across the screen as the phone continued to ring, making my stomach churn.

It was none other than my father.