Mafia's Obsession - The CEO's Contracted Songbird

LIANAThe cart rattled when one of its wheels hit a crack in the sidewalk, and I winced even though nothing inside broke. Old habit. Everything of value we owned fit into that cart—sheet music wrapped in plastic, Remi’s spare sweater, his violin case strapped tight with bungee cords like a promise I was afraid to make.The McDonald’s giant yellow M glowed ahead of me, all fluorescent warmth and cheap yummy goodness. I was desperate for some hot food and scale breaking calories. Something solid I could bring back for our dinner, before my shift started. But first things first - I needed to get in there.I stopped short when I saw him. He stood near the curb, tall and still in a way that made the chaos of Manhattan bend around him instead of collide. Dark suit, sharp lines, no effort wasted. He had a phone plastered to his ear, head cocked a bit to the side.Trustworthy, my mind supplied stupidly.He owned the space. I wouldn’t make the mistake to call him safe. Just… solid. Li

ADRIANOI looked through the glass front of the McDonalds at the street urchin whose cart I was currently guarding like a museum treasure. Her back was to me but now I had the chance to properly check her out. A dull grey threadbare cardigan hung over a bulky cable knit sweater and faded jeans. Everything looked a few sizes too big and drowned her small frame so they had to be donations and hand me downs. Continuing my thorough perusal, I grimaced. Was that a hole in the scruffy beatup Converses that should have been thrown away a few years ago?I was still trying to figure out that weird buzz that had coursed through me at her touch, not to mention my visceral reaction everytime she said Sir. What the fuck was that about???I looked again and saw she was unzipping a moonbag strapped to her waist and took out a few crumpled dollars and some change and placed them on the counter. She looked at the amount on the register and proceeded counting. She shook her head and the sk

LIANAI was breathless by the time I had jogged the four blocks to Mischief. The main entrance was really classy, with black glass and a golden mask and the Club name emblazoned on the doors. Everything about it screamed money, catering to the wealthiest players in both legal and not so legal business. Flushed, panting, I went around and nodded in greeting to the burly black suited security at the rear staff entrance. They nodded back and open the doors, allowing me entrance. I quickly made my way to my change room, thankful ours was not the shared open one for the regular show girls and was basically a small private room adjacent to the one for big name guest artists. I placed my bag and stuff in the locker and donned the black sparkly form fitting full length evening gown and trademark mask. Three inch killer black stilletos and long fingerless lace gloves completed the ensemble. I slicked my long hair back into a strict ballerina bun, with only a few wisps softening i

Adriano The melancholy strains of Bach swelled in the room. My eyes were drawn back to the slender woman bent over the keys of the piano as if she were trying to meld with it. Something about her was familiar. Her petite frame, the delicate hands. A memory that teased but remained unsolved like a missing puzzle piece. She drew attention without trying, but was so immersed in the music, eyes closed, slender fingers flying over the keys that she was completely unaware of the effect she had on a room full of men who were used to buying everything they wanted. “Who’s the new pianist?” Mason asked, already leaning back to get a better view. “Jesus. She’s something.” “She’s sweet,” Dev said. “I talked to Rory earlier. New girl. Apparently normally does duo sets during the week for the private room only. Had to go solo today due to the regular cancelling” “Private, huh?” Luca grinned. “Did Rory line me up a birthday perk? I see a black mask though” I didn’t smile even though

LianaAdriano ushered me towards a low-slung Ferrari, opening the door for me. Any other day I would have drooled over the powerful car but today my mind was already elsewhere.The interior was quiet, insulated from Manhattan’s noise, smelling faintly of leather and something clean and expensive.He reversed out of the reserved parking and asked me for an address to type into the car navigation system.I mumbled something back through my chattering teeth.His jaw clenched but he just nodded and pulled out into the quiet street.The city slid past the windows in a blur of light and shadow as the car pulled away from Mischief. I huddled into the seat, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.My mind was all over the place.I didn't know if it was shock setting in from the attack or the stress of Remi not picking up my call.Maybe both.But the tremors increased and suddenly I could feel every ache and pain.“You played beautifully tonight,” Adriano said, not looking at me