Trapped With the CEO

In the dimly lit, damp basement beneath the streets of Tokyo's Shinjuku district, the air reeked of blood, sweat and fear.

Marcus, a ruthless and cunning loan shark and underground mafia Lord, stood tall, his eyes gleaming with contempt.

"Do you know what happens to debtors like you?" Marcus's voice dripped with malice as his grip tightened around a man’s neck. "They never live to tell their story. Well, maybe they do... in hell. To others like them."

The man's eyes bulged, his face purpling as he struggled to breathe. "P-please... just a little more time... I'll pay, I swear—"

Marcus's expression remained impassive, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. With a swift, brutal motion, he delivered a fatal blow, the man's skull shattering beneath his hands. Blood splattered across the concrete floor, a gruesome testament to Marcus's ruthless efficiency.

He didn’t flinch but calmly walked out, his boots echoing on the hard floor, and entered his office. Settling into the leather chair behind his desk, he poured himself a glass of scotch, his eyes glued to the video footage on the screen. His men were beating the life out of the debtors, one of them—a young man—pleading desperately, claiming his mother was dying. But Roberto's face remained cold, unbothered, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Increase the interest rate on his loan,” he instructed his assistant, his voice devoid of emotion. “And make sure he knows what happens to those who can’t pay.”

A chill of satisfaction crossed Marcus's face as the screams of the debtors filled the room. 

“Bring Alexa here,” he added, his tone casual, almost bored. 

The assistant scurried out of the office.

Marcus's gambling house was a carefully crafted trap—a haven for those desperate to win big, only to fall deeper into addiction. He encouraged gamblers to reinvest their winnings, luring them into financial ruin. But the real money came from his usurious loans—loans that, if unpaid, came with deadly consequences. Their lives became his payment.

He's also a ruthless mafia Lord who controls a vast and lucrative empire of illicit goods, including high-stakes narcotics and deadly firearms, using his cunning, wealth, and influence to maintain his grip on the criminal underworld.

Moments later, the assistant returned, ushering in a young woman, Alexa. She clutched the hem of her dress anxiously, her wide eyes reflecting terror as she stepped into the room.

“My little ugly duckling,” Roberto sneered, his voice oozing malice. “Still not used to this, huh?” He grasped her wrist, yanking her toward him. His fingers grazed her body like a predator toying with prey. 

Alexa knew better than to resist. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and tears welled up in her eyes. She stood still, her breath shallow, enduring his touch with a combination of fear and resignation.

“What more does he want from me?” she wondered silently, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. “He’s already had his way with me earlier.” 

She had been trapped in this nightmare for twelve long years, ever since her father, Dante, had callously sold her to Marcus, abandoning her to a life of torment. The scars on her body were visible, but it was the emotional wounds that cut deepest.

“Don’t be scared, little puppet,” Marcus sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’m in a good mood today, so no extracurricular activities.” He chuckled, the sound hollow and cruel. But his mood quickly soured, and his grip on her ear tightened. 

“You better answer me when I speak to you, wench!” He growled, his face twisted in contempt. “I have a job for you, and if you do it well, you might just see a glimpse of my ‘kind side.’”

Alexa lowered her head, not daring to meet his eyes. The fear of incurring his wrath paralyzed her, and she hiccupped, silently cursing her miserable existence.

“You’ll be going undercover as a maid at the Salvatore's villa,” Marcus continued, his tone flat and emotionless. “I’ve already submitted your application—lucky for you, you were selected. Your job is simple. Retrieve a golden watch from the villa and bring it back to me. That’s your main priority.” 

He gestured to the large projector in the corner, and the image of a glittering golden watch appeared on the screen.

“This is what it looks like. Bring it back to me, and you’ll have done your job.”

He handed her a sleek communication device. “Keep me updated on your progress. Your work begins tomorrow.”

Alexa’s heart sank as reality crashed over her. Salvatore's villa? A place notorious for its heavy security, near-impossible to breach. She was being forced to choose between two evils: follow Marcus's orders or risk death by defying him.

“The slightest mistake from you will cost your life,” Marcus warned, his voice growing dangerously low as he pinned her to the wall. “Get the damn watch within a week and return here. You belong to me, and don't you forget it.”

Terror seized Alexa's chest as she nodded, gasping for breath. Marcus released her and stormed out of the room, leaving her trembling in the silence of his cruel command.

Salvatore Villa, Julian's study.

Julian sat behind his desk, lost in thought as he held the golden watch in his hands. The delicate engraving glimmered under the soft light, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his chest. His fingers brushed over the cold surface, and he couldn't help but feel the weight of its history—the weight of his legacy.

When people spoke of Julian Salvatore, they spoke of power, influence, and control. His reputation was built on the blood, sweat, and sacrifices of others, and his empire spanned continents. Men feared him, not just for his ability to destroy, but because of the calm, unwavering strength he exuded. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room; his presence alone made others bend to his will.

At 6'3", with jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline, Julian was not only a force to be reckoned with in business but also in every room he entered. His features were striking, sharp, and intimidating—so beautiful it almost made you forget the ruthlessness beneath. The tailored suits he wore weren’t just fashion statements; they were armor, a reflection of his carefully constructed empire.

"I’ll protect you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as memories flooded his mind.

He was ten years old, hiding in the garden during a game of hide-and-seek with his parents. Laughter echoed through the villa until the sharp crack of gunfire shattered the serenity.

His father had found him, thrusting a small golden box into his trembling hands. “Keep this safe, Julian. Never let it go,” he’d said before pushing him to safety. Moments later, his parents were gunned down before his eyes, their bodies crumpling onto the blood-soaked lawn.

The watch was the last thing his father had entrusted to him—a symbol of their love and the life they had lost. Now, it was a symbol of something even more powerful—Julian's unyielding resolve to protect what was his. And nothing, not even the world’s most dangerous players, would stop him from securing that legacy.