Laila's pov
The leather chair creaked as I sank into it, my wrists still raw from the cuffs Adrian had slapped on earlier — a reminder that I belonged to him now. Not just on paper, but in every sense that mattered.
Adrian stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the city's neon glow. The mafia boss, the kingpin, the man who owned everything — including me.
"You're here because you signed," he said, voice low and cold. "Your brother's freedom depends on your obedience. No more mistakes."
I clenched my jaw, bitterness twisting inside me. "Obedience. Like a puppet on a string."
He turned, eyes sharp, calculating. "You forget who holds the scissors."
There was a silence — thick, charged — before he walked over, handing me a file. The weight of it was heavier than the cuffs.
"This is your first assignment."
I flipped it open, eyes scanning names, locations, orders. Tasks that dragged me deeper into his world — dangerous meetings, discreet threats, transactions that smelled of blood and betrayal.
"You'll do exactly as I say. No questions."
A laugh, bitter and hollow, escaped me. "And if I refuse?"
Adrian's eyes darkened, shadowed by a menace I couldn't ignore. "Then your brother dies. And so do any illusions you have of control."
I swallowed hard, feeling the walls close in. This wasn't just business — it was a prison with no bars but ironclad contracts and blood debts.
"Why me?" I whispered, fighting tears I refused to shed. "Why drag me into this?"
He stepped closer, voice almost a whisper. "Because you're the only one I trust not to betray me. And because you're mine."
The word hit me like a punch.
I was trapped, owned, bound to a man whose world was ruthless and unforgiving.
Yet beneath the cold mafia facade, a flicker of something real — or dangerously close — glimmered in his eyes.
The game was far from over.
And I was the key player.