The Mafia Alpha Who Hates Me

"I–I'm feeling tipsy," a woman slurred, her voice echoing in the private room. It was clear she was drunk from the way her head tilted and her hand shook.

Beside her sat a middle-aged man in a black suit and glowing bald head. On his face sat a suspiciously wide smile like someone watching their favorite comedy show—except there was no comedy on display. Around his neck hung a dangling golden chain that seemed out of place with what he wore, and his hands were collectively designed with several golden rings. They caught the light of the chandelier with his every movement.

On another seat facing the couch was a young man, probably in mid-twenties. He was wearing a simple white shirt and black pants. Compared to the two people who were seemingly dressed to the nines, he appeared to be like an assistant.

But no, he wasn't an assistant. His name was Carlo, and he was a small-time manager at Blue Hill Entertainment, managing only a Z–list actress — Nora Ferraro.

And meanwhile, the middle-aged man — Director Mason — was quite a popular figure in the film industry.

Carlo raised his head from his phone, his gaze on the woman. "Drink some more, Nora."

Nora shook her head. She was already at her limit, and she'd lost consciousness if this continued. "I– Drinnnn no more."

Mason stared at the beauty beside him, and his eyes curved with smile. "Miss Nora seems really drunk. Why don't you go rest?"

Nora's eyes lit up like she had seen her savior. Her stomach was already hurting, and a rest was what she wanted right now. "Yes, yes, I need to rest."

Mason exchanged a look with Carlo, and the latter nodded, standing and turning to Nora. "I need to go to the restroom. Director Mason already booked a room for you. He will take you there."

Before Nora could even say a word, Carlo had slipped out.

An awkward silence descended.

Nora's tipsiness faded a little, and she became alert. After all, she was alone in the room with a man her manager had said could help her. However, they had no prior meeting—until now.

Mason placed down the cup of wine he had been pretending to drink—while letting the beauty drink several bottles. He stood up, stretching out his hand like a gentleman. "Miss Nora, I will take you to the room."

Nora hesitated.

Her mind was muddled, and her thought process was sluggish. She shook her head, trying to sound polite. "I don't want to trouble you, Director Mason."

Mason chuckled. "Oh no, not at all. It's my pleasure that a beauty like you would allow me to lead you to your room."

The hair on her slender neck rose at such an overly-familiar tone, and she subconsciously shook her head again. "No—"

But before she could even finish her sentence, the man abruptly grabbed her hand and yanked her up, leading her to knock against the table full of wine bottles.

She gave a yelp as he roughly dragged her and she collided with his chest. "What are you doing?!" she cried as he held her waist with a hand, his other hand groping her ass like she had given him permission.

But she never did.

And she never would.

The alcohol seemed to have cleared from her system, and she struggled violently. "Let me go!"

"Hahahaha, what a firm, nice ass you got there!"

His remark made her face burn red, and she stomped on his feet with her several-inch stilletos.

Mason cried out as his toes were stubbed painfully. The pain pierced straight to his heart, a painful groan escaping his lips.

His wandering hand left her waist and he pushed her away. She crashed against the table, the several bottles shattering into pieces and piercing her body.

If she had wore white instead of black, one could already imagine how gruesome she would look.

But Nora wasn't given the time to react before the man kicked her legs, sending her crumpling to the floor with a thud. Her elbow slammed into the broken glass, and a sharp pain shot up her arm. Blood smeared against the cold, tiled floor as she gasped, trying to pull herself up.

"You bitch!" Mason's voice roared above her, stripped of any trace of the gentlemanly mask he had worn earlier. His face was ferocious, like an enraged beast as he stomped forward like a rabid animal, pointing a finger at her. "You ungrateful son of a bitch! You think you can just come here, drink my wine and embarrass me like this?!"

She scrambled backward, her hands slipping against the blood and spilled liquor. "I—I didn’t mean to! Let me go!" Her voice shook, filled with panic.

But Mason couldn't even hear a single word. He was blinded with so much fury his body shook.

He was a reputable director who had slept with several beauties and was respected by many artists in the industry. Nora was the next on his list, but rather than being obedient like the others, she had turned around to hurt him instead.

If he didn't teach her a lesson she'd never forget, it would go against his code!

He raised his hand like he was about to strike her, and for one split second, Nora’s breath paused. Her entire life flashed before her within seconds, but most importantly, her little brother.

If anything happened to her — or this man hurt her face — how would she be able to survive in the industry ever again? How would she be able to repay the debts her parents owed and also save enough for his hospital bills?

And just as his hand came swinging down, she kicked him again without another thought. This time, she targeted his groin.

A sickening grunt escaped Mason as he stumbled back, landed on his knees with his hand clutching his jewels and wheezing like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. You—!"

But the girl didn't give him a chance to react, rather, she dashed toward the door, yanked it open and flung herself to the hallway. She heard Mason's roar of pain and fury as the heavy door swung shut behind her with a thud and the sound of the automatic lock clicking into place.

Mason gritted his teeth, eyes burning red as he struggled to take his phone and then dialed his security's number.

Voice twisted with rage, he bellowed. "Find her now and bring her before me!"