OWNED by MAFIA DON NERO: She's his to destroy

~Amara.

"Make that ass clap, girl!!!"

Someone among the dim-lit crowd yelled obscenely, and I assuaged his request with a fake inviting grin, tensing the core of my heels to make the muscles of my ass cheeks clap against each other. Lusty whistles and yells of approval rose as they flung money my way. Some even dared to climb onto the stage to spank my buttocks while pretending to stick some notes into my bikini pants.

This was the norm around here, and I'd gotten used to it fairly quickly.

What choice do I have?

I tried to shut out my thoughts as the bass thundered through the club; sweat trailed down my body under the club's red, blue, and violet strobe lights. I melted into the rhythm of the music's sensual tempo, my hands gripping the chrome pole to lift my legs off the floor and spun.

I didn't like my job as a stripper. I had to strip and dance to satisfactorily feed the lustful eyes of every man who cared to stride into the bar. I didn't want to do it but my brother, Luca, was very sick. He was all I had in this world.

He had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and needed an urgent bone marrow transplant. The disease was hereditary. I had this as a child. Dad donated his marrow to me, which ruled out any possibility of me being able to donate a viable marrow to Luca.

I had to take a job as a stripper at a VIP club in Washington to pay for a marrow transplant and chemo while the hospital looked for a viable donor.

But it seemed the harder I worked, the faster his condition deteriorated.

"His condition is worsening by the minute. We've found a donor but he's asking for a hundred thousand dollars for his donation. We have to do that transplant now!!"

My heart had sunk to my stomach at the doctor's words.

"Wait please, doctor, can I meet the person and beg? I don't have that amount of money with me right now."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Amara, but you know our donors are protected by an anonymity clause unless they request otherwise. Have a good day."

The words of my brother's doctor earlier today rang in my ears non-stop.

I was reminded of a time when things weren't always like this. I had everything many people wished for. A loving family, I had a feared surname to my name. I had the perfect life.

Apparently.

They were all fake. My name wasn't even really mine, and my life was anything but peaceful.

Amara Skyes.

People assumed I had no problem because of my surname.

My foster father, Milo Skyes, was an aide to the second in command to Nico Salvador, one of the most feared Mafia Dons in Italy.

Milo was wealthy, so in retrospect, I should've paid off my brother's hospital bills by now.

If only it were that simple.

Isabella De Vittorio.

That was my real name before I turned twelve and my life changed forever.

My biological father's name was Matteo De Vittorio, the most feared Mafia Consigliere in Italy. He was second in command to Nico Salvador, the most feared Mafia Don at the time.

One night, our mansion was suddenly attacked by a rival gang.

Our house was razed to the ground after they had tortured my father while we watched. My mum had risked her life to break free to save me and Luca.

All I can remember of that night was that I ran and ran and ran with my brother in tow until my lungs gave out.

I woke up in a hospital. Using the techniques my father had taught from an early age to spy and gather intel, I heard hitmen were on the lookout for us.

I immediately dyed my fire-red hair to black with pigeon poop, then did the same for my brother, stole some clothes from the hospital's laundry room, and escaped with Luca.

I swore then never to have anything to do with the mafia.

I registered Luca and I under foster care with false identities. When I saw Milo Skyes, a western businessman, come to adopt us, I immediately agreed to go with him because he was a businessman and he was a westerner.

No way was he part of Italy's violent undercurrent.

That was how I became Amara Skyes.

I should have known he only adopted Luca and I because of the welfare check the government would pay into their accounts.

His family didn't like me. His wife and children made me and Luca see our ears in that house. We were starved to the point of immobility, beaten to stupor, and locked up in a basement infested with spiders more times than we saw the sunlight. Because of that, I developed arachnophobia while Luca developed a terrible phobia for the dark.

When Luca turned 16 and was diagnosed with ALL, I knew it was all up to me to save his life.

Milo and his family couldn't have cared less.

I was barely done with middle school when my parents were murdered, and I never saw the four walls of a high school and college, so that rules out white-collar jobs.

That was when I had no choice other than to strip for money. It was either that or be a prostitute for hire.

Then Nico Salvador had spotted me at a party Milo had beaten me into attending as a servant. Nico had taken an interest in me and began discussing marriage plans with Milo in exchange for being his second in command. I overheard their arrangements and immediately ran away from home with Luca.

We managed as much as possible in hiding, but they never came. I knew that if they wanted to find us, they would have, but we were worthless to them now. I had turned 20 and Luca was down with a deadly illness.

We were now dispensable.

Then I met Marco. It was love at first sight. I never thought I'd love any man as much as I loved him, and what's more? He was mine, and he made sure I knew it. He made me feel safe.

Even Luca felt at home with him, and so when he had told me of his dreams to start a technological company, I was on board.

I gave him what little money I had saved up and sent him overseas, knowing that once he made it big, he'd come for Luca and I, and then we'd truly kiss this drab life goodbye.

It has been a year since he left.

I was soon done with my set and the crowd roared in disappointment as the next girl took the stage. I grabbed my robe, heart pounding, when Liam, my boss, waved me over from the corner. His expression was unreadable beneath his beard.

“Amara,” he called, motioning me to the hallway. His lips suddenly split into a grin as he counted out a wad of cash for me. “Nice moves tonight.”

I clasped the money he gave me to my chest. "Thanks, and by the way, there's someone waiting for you."

My brows knitted together. A visitor? No one comes here for me. Not unless—

And then I saw him. My stomach did a flip.

Marco. My Marco. My heart stuttered so hard I forgot to breathe. He looked so out of place in this dim, smoky hallway—neat denims, kind eyes, that dimple I could drown in. He’s never been here before. I never wanted him to see this side of me.

“Marco,” I whispered like a prayer.

I tightened my black robe around me as I ran to him unconsciously. I clasped him so tight I was breathing for the both of us.

We soon parted. My eyes had teared up now.

"Hey, stranger," he teased and pecked me on the forehead. I held onto him, basking in his cologned warmth.

“What are you doing here?”

I murmured against his chest.

His lips curved into a nervous smile. “I needed to see you. I—there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. God, I've missed you.”

For a moment, I think my knees might give out. My heart raced. The question. It had to be—

He continued, “If you’re free tonight, come with me. To my parents’ house. I… I want to ask you properly.”

I nodded before he even finished. Tears sting my eyes. “Yes. I mean—of course.”

I didn't tell Liam that I was off for the night. I just rushed to the dressing room, threw on my faded jeans and worn sports jersey, and grabbed my phone.

He’s going to propose, I texted Luca as I slipped into Marco’s posh car.

His reply popped up a few seconds later.

Wait—propose? To YOU? I thought you two were just best friends?

I grinned.

What did he know? He was still a child.

Marco laughed softly beside me, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching to squeeze mine. “You look so happy.”

“How could I not be?” I teased. “You’re finally taking me to meet your parents. Took you long enough.”

He chuckled, the corner of his eyes crinkled. “You’ll love them. They already know all about you.”

“-being a stripper?"

"No, being you."

He assured me quietly, and I relaxed.

He stopped at my one-room apartment so I could pack for a weekend stay at his parents’. The walls were cracked, the ceiling fan wheezed like it needed saving too. Luca’s empty bed stared at me. The nurses had called earlier; his treatment bill was overdue again. I looked at the pile of cash in my bag. It wouldn’t last a week.

But tonight… maybe tonight should change everything.

I packed what little I owned—two dresses, a toothbrush, and a pair of heels that had seen better days.

The rest of the drive felt like a dream. Streetlights blurred past us like streaks of stardust, and my heart kept whispering this is it. For once, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—life is giving me back something beautiful.

When we pulled up to the mansion gates, my jaw dropped. It’s huge. Elegant. Marco had really made it big.

His parents greeted me so warmly I felt like crying. His father took my bag, his mother hugged me like she'd known me since forever, and a girl—his sister, I think—offered me a warm smile.

For the first time since my parents died, I felt… home.

Marco’s father started to take my bag upstairs, but Marco stopped him, a strange urgency in his voice.

“Wait, Dad,” he said, turning back to me. “I can’t wait anymore.”

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. He smiled, took both my trembling hands, and I felt tears already dropping.

He’s doing it. He’s finally doing it.

“Amara Skyes,” he began breathlessly, “will you—”

I can’t breathe. My chest is full of light, of hope, of love.

“—be my best man for my wedding?”