The Mafia King’s Doll

Franco

Walking toward the main section of Paradiso, my thoughts are filled with Miss Blakely.

The woman actually impressed me today.

From the moment I got to the office until we left, she worked so fast I struggled to keep up. It became a fucking competition, and the pace was relentless.

A smile threatens to tug at the corner of my mouth because today Miss Blakely was the kind of PA I’ve been looking for since I started the company.

Entering the main room, my eyes drift over the members who are enjoying drinks. I notice a new man talking to a blonde, and as I keep walking, her face starts to come into view.

When I have a direct view of her, my feet come to a halt, and my lips part with shock.

What the fuck?

I watch as my PA smiles awkwardly at her partner.

What the hell is she doing here?

It takes a lot to shock me, but seeing my PA at Paradiso has stunned me senseless.

This is the last place I expected to see Miss Blakely.

Suddenly, her eyes meet mine and every muscle in my body freezes. It’s okay. She won’t recognize you.

Instead of just glancing at me, Miss Blakely tilts her head and continues to stare.

Turning around, I stalk to the security room and take up position in front of the security monitors for the main floor.

“Zoom in on Samantha Blakely,” I order.

A moment later I have a closeup view of my PA and the man she’s been paired with.

“Bring me her file,” I order to no one specific.

Miss Blakely looks beautiful in the little black dress she’s wearing, and when she smiles at her partner, a frown forms on my forehead.

Is she into kinky sex?

The image of Miss Blakely being fucked by the two men Mrs. Gilbert loves so much flits through my mind, and I feel a little nauseous.

“Here’s the file, sir,” Brian says.

I take the folder, and opening it, my eyes dart over Miss Blakely’s personal information. When I get to the section highlighting her choice of partner and preferences, my frown darkens.

It says she only wants to have a conversation with a man. There’s no mention of anything sexual or taboo.

Why would she pay such an exorbitant membership fee just to talk to men? Surely the woman has men throwing themselves at her feet?

My gaze returns to the monitor, and I watch as she sips her drink while glancing at the other members. Her partner looks awkward as fuck.

Nothing exciting happens, and they hardly talk to each other.

I check the folder again and see she’s paired with Doyle Gleason.

“Give me Mr. Gleason’s file,” I demand as my eyes return to the monitor.

The awkward pair are talking, but the conversation doesn’t last long before they’re watching the other members once more.

When Brian hands me Mr. Gleason’s file, I check what he wants from a partner. Seeing he’s open to conversations but would essentially like to find a sexual partner, I ask, “Who paired Mr. Gleason with Miss Blakely?”

“I did,” Brian answers. “They’re both new and open to having conversations.”

“He’s not her type,” I mutter.

“Miss Blakely was clear that she didn’t care what the man looked like.”

Really? Why though?

“Still. The man is fifteen years older than her. Next time, pair her with someone younger.”

“Yes, sir.”

I drop the files on the nearest desk, and walking out of the security room, I head to my office so I can get some work done.

My thoughts keep returning to my PA, who has managed to impress and shock me all in one day. I can’t fathom why someone like her would pay to have a conversation with a man.

Sitting at my desk, I stare at nothing in particular as I try to make sense of the enigma that’s my PA.

It can’t be because she’s lonely. The woman could walk into any bar or club, and she’ll have men clamoring to buy her a drink.

Not once has she given me the impression she’s shy. Picking up my phone, I dial the extension for Brian. “Yes, sir?”

“In the future, let me know when Miss Blakely makes an appointment and what her requests are.”

“Will do, sir.”

Ending the call, I force my attention back to my work and try to forget about my PA sitting in the main room of my club.

I emailed everything I need Miss Blakely to do first thing this morning because I won’t be in the office today.

Which is a good thing. I’m still processing the fact that she’s a member at Paradiso, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why such a beautiful woman would have a problem talking to men.

I mean, she’s fine giving me attitude all day long.

After I laid into her the other day, she came back swinging. Not once has she burst into tears like many of my previous assistants.

The woman is one hell of an enigma, and it’s piqued my curiosity. Pulling up to the truck yard, I see Renzo leaning against the hood of his

SUV.

Milo stops the G-Wagon, and when I get out, Renzo mutters playfully, “Is this the time to get here? I’ve been waiting for over ten minutes.”

I place my hand on the hood of the SUV, and feeling how hot the engine is, I mutter, “Bullshit. But kudos to you for managing to be on time for once.”

Renzo is known for being late, and usually, I’m the one who’s kept waiting.

Grinning at my friend, I ask, “Did you wet the bed?”

He lets out a chuckle. “No, my sister and her kids are in town. The little shits scream at the top of their lungs from morning to evening, so I had to escape the torture.”

“How is Valeria?” I ask as we walk toward the entrance of the warehouse.

“She’s good. Pregnant again.” He shakes his head. “She says it’s up to her to keep the family name going, seeing as I won’t even consider getting married.”

“Well, it takes a load off your shoulders.”NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Renzo and I have been best friends since middle school, and we’re more like brothers than best friends.

I take in the shipment of arms Renzo brought in and let out a low whistle. “Christ. We’re going to be here the whole day.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before he says, “This shipment is important. Nothing can go wrong.”

We watch as the men pack the weapons into hollowed-out airconditioning units.

“We’ll get the trucks across the border,” I assure him. Walking over to the weapons, I pick up an Uzi and inspect it. “Good quality, right?” Renzo asks.

“Yeah. There’ll always be a market for this submachine gun.”

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I put the weapon down on the pile and answer the call.

“Vitale speaking.”

“It’s Samantha, sir. Mr. Franks would like to make an appointment with you for Monday morning. I just wanted to check if it’s okay with you to schedule the meeting for eight o’clock.”

“That’s fine,” I mutter before hanging up.

Renzo raises an eyebrow at me, then asks, “What’s the longest you’ve managed to keep a PA? Two months?”

I glare at my friend. “It’s not my fault they’re all incompetent.”

“Right.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his gaze to where the men are hard at work. “You go through assistants like I go through toilet paper. Maybe you should try saying please and thank you once in a while.”

I let out a sigh and shake my head. “Miss Blakely has an uncanny way of annoying the living hell out of me.”

Renzo’s eyebrow pops up. “Yeah? You sure it’s not the other way around?”

“Fuck off.”

A burst of laughter escapes him. “At least this one is easy on the eyes.” I don’t say anything about his comment and just grunt.

My phone vibrates again, and checking it, I see it’s a message from Brian. I open it and read that Miss Blakely has requested another meeting. This time, she wants to be alone in a room with a man, but no touching is allowed.

Interesting.