VOWS OF THE RUTHLESS MAFIA BOSS

DIANA

Just like Princess Anneliese in Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper, it is my duty to obey my parents' order. But unlike her, I don't have a Julian to help me escape this cruel destiny.

'You must marry him, Diana! No buts! It's final!'

My father's words echo in my mind, bouncing back like a curse. What the h*ll did I do to deserve this punishment? If this were a crime, it would be a capital sentence.

I leaned back against the couch, dragging my hands down my face in frustration. I needed to forget this miserable day.

I dialed my best friend's number.

"What now?" Heather greeted with an annoyed tone. I knew she was rolling her eyes.

"As usual, got another problem here, Athe. Let's hang out tonight."

I heard her soft chuckle.

'Whatever it is, there's only one solution, Diana. I'll buy men for you.'

I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.

"You know, they only s*ck n*pples and l*bias, not the problem itself, Athe. So, no thanks. Keep that to yourself."

Her maniacal laughter rang in my ear, probably echoing in her room.

"You know I'm just kidding, Diana. But seriously, I know your problem. And I'll tell you this—just accept it. Ruther Yanno is a prize that every woman wants. You're a lucky gambler in this game."

"Whatever you say, Heather." Then, I ended the call.

There was no doubt—Ruther Yanno Wrevco was perfect in every aspect. Wealth? Check. Social status? Impeccable. Intelligence? Off the charts. And that magnetic aura that could make any woman's underwear snap right off? He had it all.

But the problem was... I didn't want him. He's dangerous and who knows what's his at agenda of this plan? Because of business? I don't think that's it. I know, there's a deep reason behind it. One thing, I'm still at my 20s. I wanted to live my life. I wanted to chase my dream—to become a world-renowned runway model.

So why the hell was I being forced into this?

Frustrated, I stormed into my mother's office.

"Mom, why does dad want me to marry someone I don't love?" My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn't care.

She looked up from her desk, her expression calm as she reached for my hand, caressing it softly.

You belong to him, Dianne," she said. "Let love connect you."

My chest tightened. This is b*llshit.

I yanked my hand away. "Do you even know what love means? You only think of your own. Fame? Wealth? Marriage as business transaction?" I challenged.

She smiled bitterly, her gaze shifting back to her computer.

"Get out, now, dear. You won't like what your father will do if you disobey him."

I scoffed. "And you think I'm scared? Dream on, mom."

"DIANA!!!"

Her voice followed me as I slammed the door behind me.

Our family was a mess. No one here was sane.

Their principles, their beliefs, their twisted desires—everything was about power, wealth, and fame. 

I FEEL LIKE A SNAIL coming out of its shell for the first time. Hanging out at a bar always makes me feel like it's my first time socializing—as if I've been isolating myself for too long.

"You're really dazzling tonight, Diana!". Heather remarked, her voice dripping with admiration. Her words reflected exactly how I looked tonight—different, unusual, not me.

I was wearing a nude strapless bodycon dress that hugged my curves, stopping mid-thigh. I paired it with maroon stilettos—an odd yet striking combination. My hair was pulled into a messy bun, complemented by sultry night makeup and deep burgundy matte lipstick.

"You really don't want any man? You know, for foreplay?" Heather added with a teasing grin.

I turned my head, scanning the room, and almost gagged at the lewdness surrounding me. Couples—no, strangers—were pressed against walls, sprawled over chairs and tables, tangled in a feverish mess. Some were already half-naked. Well, it was normal here. These people were regulars. Hustlers. Pleasure seekers.

"When will you let someone break your hymen? Are you saving it like some rare artifact?" Heather teased again, nudging me playfully.

I smirked. "Of course, it's precious. Exclusive product for an exclusive customer."

I took a sip of my margarita, the sting burning down my throat.

"You say that now, but trust me—it's healthy. Like a drug, Dianne. Addictive. Anyway, you'll soon becoming a wife."

I gave her a fake smile, but my attention quickly shifted. Heather was already making out with some guy, straddling his lap, grinding against his firm thighs.

Pathetic.

Not once in my life had I ever done anything so reckless. Public displays of affection were excessive—there should be a damn public advisory against this level of shamelessness.

Seven shots later—Margarita, Whiskey, Martini—I was tipsy.

The heat spread through my body, my balance slipping.

I needed to wash my face.

I stumbled toward the women's restroom, gripping the sink as I stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my lips slightly parted.

My body felt strange.

I felt hot.

My vision blurred slightly as I splashed cold water onto my face, but it did nothing to cool the heat spreading through my body.

The alcohol had taken its toll—I was tipsy, maybe even drunk, but not enough to lose control. Not yet.

I stepped out of the restroom, the pulsing bass of the music vibrating through my chest. The dance floor was packed—bodies swayed under the dim neon lights, lost in their own rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something else—desire.

Then, I felt it.

A presence.

Strong. Overpowering.