Working For A Mafia

(Ava’s POV)

It was 11:47 p.m at night.

I have spent another night alone. Another night of waiting for a man whose scent still lingered on the pillow but hadn’t touched me in thirty days.

Leon Vance — my husband who is both my sin and my salvation.

The silk sheets that I lay on were cold, and too smooth for a new couple. I pressed the remote, and the big TV came to life, gleaming with nude images. Sounds filled the air. Moans that weren’t mine.

I lay on the bed, watching p**n on my TV, with my thighs clenched really tight. Video after video of men fucking women, big cocks splitting them open. I rubbed my clit through my panties, imagining Leon's face as he pounded into me on our honeymoon.

I didn’t mean to watch it. Not really. It just… happened out of curiosity or punishment. I couldn’t tell. Maybe both. I was so horny that I couldn't bear it.

My chest rose and fell unevenly as the moans filled the room. My body ached really badly, not for the strangers on the screen, but for him. For the weight of his lethal hands. For that rough, commanding voice that could ruin me and make me whole in the same breath.

But he was gone. Another business trip for a whole month just as soon as the honeymoon was over.

I told myself that I’d be patient. That I was better than my past — the stripper girl who used to dance under red lights and f*ck around. The girl who stripped when men threw bills at her feet. I wasn’t that woman anymore.

I was Ava Sinclair Vance now, the wife of the city’s golden billionaire. The woman who swore loyalty and promised to be faithful as soon as I became his.

But loyalty felt heavier when no one was watching.

I ran my fingers through my hair and slowly to my boobs, the air filled with perfume and loneliness. My vibrator was useless at this point. I needed something real. My phone vibrated— a message from Bella, my best friend. “I’m still in Paris. Miss you, babe. Don’t go crazy while I’m gone.”

Too late.

I dropped the phone, laughing softly the moment I realized that I am going to do something nasty today. 

My gaze drifted to the mirror across the room. My reflection looked different under the warm light. I could almost see the stripper version of me that used to dance on a stage.

Maybe that was what I missed. Not just Leon’s touch… but my own fire.

Before I could even take a second-guess myself, I was already opening my closet. Dresses in shades of black and gold stared back at me. I reached for the one that used to make men forget their names and trigger their dicks.

“Just dance and have some fun,” I whispered to myself. “No fucking. Not even touching.”

Leon wouldn’t find out anyways.

---

The city was alive when I stepped out of the car. The club’s name glowed above me — Club Orion. I used to dance here years ago, before Leon fucked me and asked me to be his forever.

Now I was going back as a ghost visiting her own grave.

Inside, the air tasted just like liquor. I walked past the crowd, until I reached the VIP section — where the lights dimmed and money rained in the air.

No one recognised me except for the manager. The manager blinked twice the moment he saw my face.

“Ava Sinclair?”

“Just Ava tonight,” I said.

He didn’t ask anymore questions. He never did. After all, the asshole didn't even attend my wedding.

I walked to the stage, my heels clicking like confessions. My pulse beat faster than the music. As I wrapped my fingers around the cold pole, I felt that forgotten hunger inside me exhale.

The music started. My body remembered it all before my mind did. The sway, the rhythm, and the slow arch of my back. Eyes followed and men leaned forward, longing for my body.

But none of them caught my eyes. I wasn’t dancing for them anyways. I was dancing away the sexual ache that Leon wasn't there to heal.

And then — I saw him.

He sat in the far corner of the VIP lounge, shadows hiding half of his face. He was wearing a loose shirt and pants, and I could see the muscles of his chest. I hated the way my body reacted to him, and how my pussy grew wet.  

Two women sat by his side, one massaging his chest and the other massaging his cock in his pants. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at me.

The moment our eyes met, I forgot how to breathe. His gaze was heavy — not the kind that only undressed you, but the kind that eats you up. 

My fingers trembled around the pole. I turned away, trying to focus on the rhythm of the music, but my heart was already pounding on a different beat.

I told myself it was just a harmless curiosity but my body was starting to betray me. 

Before I knew it, I was walking toward him, heels clicking on marble like a countdown. He didn’t move or blink. 

The closer I got, the more my knees wanted to give in.

When I reached his table, I stopped. He leaned back, resting his arms on the sofa.

I should’ve turned back. But I didn’t.

Instead, I sat down right on his lap, my boobs facing him. I could feel his hard cock beneath my panties, and I couldn't help but want it inside me.

His body was really warm. The smell of leather, whiskey, and something darker clung to his skin. My hand moved on its own, tracing the hard lines of his chest through the open buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched barely but I caught it.

I hated the sound of my own heartbeat. It wasn’t supposed to race like this for anyone else but Leon.

Gosh!! What was I doing?

I told myself before leaving home that I’d just dance and not fuck around. But his body called to something wild inside me. It was something that I’d buried when I said I do to Leon.

He tilted his head, studying me like a secret that he already knew. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and goddamm thick like smoke curling around my ear.

“You dance like you’ve done this before.”

I swallowed hard. “Maybe I have.”

He smiled, very slow and wicked. “And maybe you still want to.”

That hit way too close. I stood up quickly, breaking the spell. My heart felt like it might jump out from my body.

“I should go,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

I turned, ready to leave and find whatever was left of my self-control. 

But before I could take a step, his hand caught mine. He was already on his feet. 

In one motion, he pulled me back, spinning me around until my back hit the wall beside the sofa. His body pressed close enough that I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt.

His hand came up and rested against my throat, almost choking me. He came at rough, holding me still.

The world shrank. All that existed was the heat arising between us.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered,

“And where did you think you’re going, bitch?”

Oh shit!! Soo much for being a changed person.

I wanted to speak up. I want to remind myself of Leon, of my vows, and of the life I was supposed to protect. But the words never came.

Because in that moment — under the dim light and under his control, I realized something terrifying.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to be faithful anymore.