~GEMMA~
I grab the old, battered suitcase. I quickly pack the essentials, a few worn photographs of Marcus and Chloe before the debt. I cannot pack memories. I leave behind everything that screams Gemma Russell, the girl who had hope.
I stand in the middle of the room looking at the life I have just traded.
The clock on the bed table screams 6:00 AM. I leave the house, closing the door to my old life, after a long stare at the sleeping Chloe who is clutching the envelope I gave to her.
Tears slips from my eyes and I wipe it off.
It's better I go to Leonardo than for him to come here.
I walk a bit away from the house and stand by the side of road, waiting for Leonardo.
He should know I am out of the house since he's always watching me.
I am clean, dressed in plain black leggings and a heavy cotton sweater. I look nothing like Ria, but I feel far more exposed.
I don't have to wait for long when his car stops in front of me. The car horn blares once, long and demanding. It is precisely 7:00 AM.
I snatch the suitcase.
Now, it is time to meet the man who owned my silence and my rhythm.
I slide the digital tablet into my lap, ready to be The Personal Stripper. The cold, dark journey to the Romanos' estate had begun
I see the driver and a giant bodyguard come down from the car, a hulking shadow of a man in a dark suit. He opens the rear door for me.
I don't say a word as I climb into the car and close my eyes tight as more tears roll down my cheeks.
I'll definitely miss Chloe.
*****
The ride is long, silent, and heavily escorted. I keep staring out the windows. The two men who pick me up are massive, quiet, and treat me like a biohazard to be delivered to a fortress.
The car slows down before a gate, not just a gate but a giant metal gate.
It is guarded not by men I could outrun, but by layers of thermal imaging and biometric scanners.
The gates part with a low, hydraulic sigh, swallowing the sedan whole.
Soon we arrive at his mansion which is sprawled in a 20 acres estate, just on the outskirts of the city. The mansion is built in 6000 square yards. A big driveway with a fancy water fountain in the middle in which two dolphins are spitting water from their mouths.
The building is like a castle. Security is seamless, invisible, terrifying.
The husky bodyguard opens my door.
"Welcome to Leonardo's Estate." the man on the left says, his voice a low, formal baritone devoid of warmth. He does not look at my face.
I am escorted inside. The massive doors open, and I step from the cold morning air into suffocating wealth.
The foyer is breathtaking. The ceilings soar three stories high, crowned by a massive, tiered crystal chandelier that doesn't just hang, it commands the space.
The floor is polished in black and white marbles. The architecture is explicitly designed to make anyone entering feel insignificant.
To my left, a winding staircase of white, unblemished Italian marble spirals upwards, its banister a delicate, swirling piece of dark metalwork.
"Your luggage is being taken directly to your suite," a staff member announces.
A woman waits, standing with an air of frigid professionalism.
She is beautiful, terrifyingly poised, mid-twenties, dressed in a flawless, structured suit.
Her blonde hair is pulled into a punishing knot, and her dark eyes are instantly hostile, dissecting me from the cheap cotton of my sweater to the fear in my stance.
This is Margarete Loretta. The PA. The woman who manages his legitimate empire and, I realize instantly, secretly loves the Leonardo.
Because there's no way she would be staring at me like I'm her sworn enemy when she's just meeting me for the first time if she doesn't love Leonardo.
"You must be the distraction," Margarete states, her voice a precise, clipped instrument, dripping with proprietary contempt. She ignores the security detail and focuses only on me.
"I will inform the staff to use the highest-grade detergent. We wouldn't want your particular… club aroma… lingering."
The insult is a sharp blow. I force myself to remain motionless, absorbing the attack.
"Margarete." Leonardo's voice cuts through the immense foyer.
He is suddenly there, descending the grand staircase, his posture radiating absolute authority.
"Gemma is not a guest. She is a vital component. She is off-limits. To everyone. Especially the help." His tone is casual, but the underlying threat is icy and absolute, directed squarely at his PA.
Margarete stiffens, her lips pressing into a tight, white line.
The jealousy in her eyes is palpable, a poison that flares when she realizes I am not just a one-night call, but a permanent problem who connects directly to her master.
"Perfectly understood, sir," she replies. "I will ensure her presence does not disrupt the corporate schedule. This way, Gemma. Follow me."
She moves with efficient, controlled fury. She leads me through endless hallways, a maze of cold art.
Every step confirms the fantasy I've entered is a suffocating reality.
We stop before a massive, dark oak door. Margarete turns.
"This is your room," she announces. "It connects directly to the Don's private suite."
The Don??
Leonardo Romano is really in the Mafia??
Damn! Things just got complicated.
The rumours are true after all. Then the rumours that he behaves like a mad man sometimes must be true too.
Damnit! How the hell do I survive here?
And did she just say my room connects directly to his??
My breath catches. The implication is immediate, no escape, no privacy.
"You will not leave this room unless escorted. You will not use the phone. You will not speak to the staff. You are invisible." She steps closer, lowering her voice to a deadly, possessive whisper. "I have managed his world for five years. I am his equal. You are a temporary, physical tool. He uses you when his pathetic weakness surfaces. Remember this...any attempt to exploit this position will be met with consequences. Consequences, Gemma, that will ruin you and your little sister's future."
"Do not mistake the Don's need for you with any form of affection or power," she says further.
She points to an adjacent dressing room. "Shower. Clean that filth off your body. Rest. At 5 PM, put on the silk provided. The Don requires his first private performance tonight. You report to the Principal's private quarters at 6:00 PM precisely for your first session. Your food will be brought to you."
She slams the connecting door shut. I walk to the connecting door that leads to Leonardo's suite.
I walk into the room.
"Oh my!" I whisper
I walk toward the bed and sit down. The bed is so huge.The room is larger than my entire previous apartment.
I look around the room and find two closed doors. I tentatively approach and open the first door.
I gasp when I see a walk-in closet full with women's clothes, shoes, sandals, lingeries and even underwear neatly stacked on a shelf.
"Wow! This is so beautiful." I whisper in surprise.
I have never worn such beautiful clothes before. I always wear cast off clothes.
I walk towards the bathroom. It is like a shrine of excess, marble, mirrors, and soft lighting.
I strip off my worn leggings and cotton sweater, the clothes feeling like a costume.
My skin is clammy, bruised by fear and the memory of Leonardo's possessive gaze.
The shower is a cascade of hot, pressurized water. I scrub my body and soon, I'm done bathing.
I wrap myself in a vast, plush towel, the fabric softer than any garment I've ever owned.
I walk back into the closet and put on a cloth. I eat my food brought to me and lay on the bed waiting to be called upon. And it's finally time.