Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

Papa’s a monster.

I knew he was bad—but this is evil. Pure, disgusting evil.

But what can I do about it, stuck in this place?

I’m nothing and nobody. I clean cum-stained sheets to earn my keep.

Even still, I’ll do anything to save the lives of those poor abused girls, to save them from dead Tianna’s fate.

Chapter 24

Siena

My back aches from bending over toilets and beds and bathtubs.

Scrub, flush, scrub. Sweat rolls down my spine. The sharp, chemical stink of cleaning products permanently lodges in my nose. I’m slightly heady from the stench and thinking about opening a window, but there are no windows nearby.

Mira’s taking clients so I’m all alone. It’s late afternoon the day after Enzo’s visit. Nine days into my hell. Nine days of torture. Nine days of crying myself to sleep.

I keep thinking about Enzo’s haunted eyes. I keep seeing the pain in him, and thinking back to all the other times he looked like that over the years. Enzo’s been dealing with Papa’s crimes for much longer than I realized, and it’s slowly breaking him. I’m still angry about the way he reacted to my transgressions with Tianna, but at least I understand the immense pressure he’s under and his constant fear of our papa.

What am I going to do? How can I help my brother and all these girls when I can’t even help myself?

Maxim’s there on the edge of my memory and my hands clench so tightly I think my fingers might break.

The front door bangs open. I jump up, yelp in surprise, and look around. I frown and step out of the bathroom as Ora storms over. She looks a little panicked and her face is flushed red. I’ve barely spoken to her since I came back, and I get a terrible feeling the second I meet her eyes.

She’s afraid of something bad.

I strip off my rubber gloves. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mira.” Ora’s breathing hard. Trying to find the words. “She’s in trouble.”

“Client?”

Ora just shakes her head. “You gotta come.”

“Take me.” I grab my mop. I don’t know what a mop’s going to do, but hey, it’s better than nothing. I run after Ora as we head down the back steps and to one of the ground-floor rooms in the back corner of the building.

It’s quiet. That’s the first thing I notice. If a client’s attacking Mira, shouldn’t there be noise? And the bouncers have been on top of that lately. Ben and Renato are still lewd, lazy pieces of shit, but at least they don’t let the girls get pummeled to death before finally stepping in.

So where the hell are they?

“She’s in there.” Ora points at the door. Her eyes are wild.

“Mira doesn’t work the ground floor,” I say, confused. I look around, but nobody’s nearby. It’s dead quiet and the parking lot is strangely empty. These are peak hours. Where are all the clients?

“What do you want me to say? Mira’s in there and she needs you.” Ora’s pale and she steps away from me. She points again.

But Mira likes to work up top. Most girls get to choose their room. It’s a small luxury and gives them the illusion of control. Mira likes the top because she can stand outside between clients and look out over the city. I don’t know what she’s seeing, but she stares at the houses and cars and people and businesses and she smiles to herself like she’s happy to be alive.

Something’s wrong. I feel it deep in my guts. But if Mira’s in trouble, I can’t stay out here and do nothing. I step forward, toward the door, and my skin prickles. Everything says I should turn and run away. This doesn’t make sense.

But Mira.

I have to go inside. Even if there’s a tiny chance that someone’s hurting her, I’d hate myself forever if I turned and walked away.

I grab the doorknob and open it. Ora runs away as I step into the room.

“Mira?”

It’s quiet. The lights are off. I smell something sharp, and realize it’s disinfectant. I cleaned this room an hour ago and it hasn’t been used since. If Mira’s working in here, shouldn’t it smell like sex and cigarettes? Like latex and lube?

“Mira? Are you in here?” I step forward—

Hands grab me.

I scream and flail. My mop hits someone. He curses, and a hand clamps over my mouth. Another hand rips the mop away and my hands are shoved behind my back roughly. Pain lances up my shoulder and I groan. More cursing and whispering. I recognize that voice—it’s Renato. The door slams shut and locks, and I’m dragged kicking and trying to scream until I’m thrown onto the bed.

The lights flip on.

Zita stands in front of the dresser. Ben and Renato glare at me. Renato’s rubbing his face where I cracked him with the shaft of the mop. He tosses it aside and it lands with a clatter against the dresser at the far side of the room. Zita’s lips are pulled back in a horrible twisted smile.