Autumn's POV
I've never hated anyone more in my life than I do Niccolo. I don't understand what he could possibly gain from trying to control my life. From trying to own me.

He's intentionally trying to make my life miserable- he has made my life miserable. Even my parents weren't this unbearable.

The smile he had on his face while I was leaving the club was enough to make me want to bash that smug, pretty face in with a baseball bat.

Finally having had enough, I decided to speak to Marcellius about it the next morning. We chose to meet up at his wife's Cafe where he ordered a cup of coffee, and I a cinnamon roll.

It's not necessarily the best breakfast choice, but I was dealing with a terrible hangover and ended up arriving late.

Marcellius gripped his mug, bringing it up to his lips and taking a sip, before setting the mug back down and sighing. "Apologies, Autumn. I know how difficult Nic can be."

He doesn't seem surprised by the fact his brother is doing cocaine at their nightclub. But he did seemed surprised by the fact that it had been with Sin.

"So you'll speak to him?"

He pauses for a moment, then says, "I can't guarantee my speaking to him will change anything." He releases another sigh. "But, I will try."

"Thank you so much Mr. Fierri." He just nods. I ready myself to leave, but stop when I remember I still haven't heard from Jess. "Oh, one more thing." He quirks a brow, waiting for my question.

"Has something happened to Jess? I haven't heard from her, and I'm starting to get worried."

"Jess no longer works for me."

"What? Why?" I question.

He's about to speak, but is interrupted by Mia who stops at our table with a pot of freshly brewed coffee in her hand. "Hi Autumn. How's everything?" She gives me a warm smile and I return the gesture, even though my mind is elsewhere.

She looks beautiful as ever with her pregnancy glow, but I can't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. "Fine, thank you. She pours her husband another cup of coffee.

"Grazie tesoro(darling)," Marcellius says, resulting in a blush from Mia. I don't know much about either of them, but from what I've witnessed they really love each other. They're so cute.

Another customer tugs her away, and I turn my attention back to Marcellius. "Can you tell me why she left? Or give me her number so I can get in contact with her? I want to make sure she's okay."

He shakes his head. His facial expression is emotionless, unreadable. I can't tell what he's thinking, but I can tell he's holding something back.

"Apolgies, but that's not possible." His tone is calm, but it's hard not to miss the warning in his eyes. Whatever happened to Jess isn't meant to be brought to light. "Please just drop it. It's safer that way."

Safer?

What does he mean by that? Maybe I should be worried. I stare at Marcellius, a plethora of possible, terrifying scenarios raiding my head. Which brings me to my next question.

"There's articles about you being apart of..." I bring my voice down to a whisper, not sure if this is some kind of forbidden secret. "The Mafia," I say lowly, scanning my surroundings to make sure no one heard me.

Marcellius chuckles, which makes me suddenly feel stupid. I don't know whether it has to do with the fact that I'm whispering, or the fact that I probably shouldn't have been so quick to believe Google. Either way he's staring at me with a raised brow.

"You don't have to whisper Autumn. Everyone knows." He gives me a subtle smile that makes me blush. Damn, he's so fine. "Well, apparently everyone but you." I blink at him, shocked.

Who knew Mr. Fierri had a sense of humor?

Heat warms my cheeks as I awkwardly take a bite out of my Cinnamon roll. He continues. "I'm sure you've heard stories." Actually, I haven't. That article was the first time I ever heard about them being in the Mafia.

I find it so strange. Although, it makes sense, I just can't seem to wrap my head around Luciano and Cesare hurting someone. Now Niccolo I can. Marcellius... maybe. He does give off Alpha energy. But the twins? No way.

I don't even think before another question pops in my head and I'm voicing my concerns. "Could Jess have possibly been involved in the Mafia?"

Marcellius' smile fades, the glare he's shooting me sending a chill scurrying down my spine. Oh shit. I hope I didn't piss him off. The last thing I want to do is upset the boss.

"Autumn," he warns. "Your questions will get you in trouble."

"I know but-"

He raises a hand and I clamp my mouth shut, severing the cord of words that almost spill out of my mouth. I'm suddenly cold, and it has nothing to do with the temperature. Goosebumps invade my skin and I start to wonder the worse.

Oh my God. What if they killed her?

Would they kill her?

I don't know what to think right now. I know nothing of Jess, or the men I'm working for. When I applied for this job I never thought I'd be entering the world of the Italian Mafia.

I'm slightly disappointed in myself for not having been more aware. Or been able to put two and two together faster. I should've done my research, because now I'm stuck wondering if they might have executed someone who knew something they shouldn't have.

Its clear Marcellius won't be telling me anything. I'd probably have to result to torture if I was ever going to get the information I needed out of him. But then again, he looks the type who doesn't break easy.

Pressing the Mafia boss further will only result in me possibly being given the same fate Jess received.

Which means this is a dead end.

Literally.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Fierri."

Giving me a single head nod, he shifts his focus onto the coffee before him. I reach for my wallet in my pocket, but he shakes his head. "No need. I've already paid."

I don't know when he did that, but I was grateful. Even a simple pastry has become too expensive for me. I probably should've just ordered a glass of water. Thanking him, I shove the last piece of the not-so-breakfast food item into my mouth and make my way towards the exit.

****

When I arrived at work, I found Sky giving one of my former clients a lap dance. Rolling my eyes at her weak attempt at twerking, I start towards the back to get changed.

Once I reached the back, I opened my locker to find a black leather two piece hanging up in my locker with a post it note stuck to it. The yellow note read:

Wear me.

There's no signature or any way to tell me who the note belongs to. I'm going to just assume my bosses had something to do with it.

This is the first time I've been requested, or rather ordered to wear a certain outfit. I wonder if any of the other girls received one as well.

Quickly slipping into the elastic garment, I stepped in front of the vanity mirror to examine myself.

My pupils grew in size, my mouth gaped open in shock at the thin attire. It barely covered anything. It was regular bra and panties, only the part that it's suppose to cover is completely exposed.

There's black tape shaped in an X over each of my nipples, and the panties are crotchless. Crotchless! I looked like if a WWE wrestler and an adult entertainer had a child.

My cheeks grew hot and I couldn't tear my gaze away from the lewd piece of clothing. There was no stockings or garter. Just a red blindfold. I felt so... out in the open... so... vulnerable.

I stared down at the blindfold in my hands, wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into. Because truthfully, I have no clue.

Returning back to the main floor, I feel the way heads snap in my direction. Some are staring with wide eyes and gaped mouths similar to my reaction when I saw it, and others are seemingly captivated.

I sense Sky's brown eyes burning a hole into my back. Normally, I'd walk proudly with my head held high, but right now- I wasn't feeling like a bad bitch. Right now I felt like I'd just been casted into the worse adult film of my life.

I'm walking around aimlessly as if I'm waiting for a group of men to appear and pass me around like a blunt.

I stop in my tracks when I hear someone call my name. Looking over at a young man dressed in a black tee shirt and dark jeans, he motions with his hand to follow him.

He's not nearly as attractive as the Fierri brothers, but he's also not difficult to look at.

Uncertain and quite obviously hesitant, he runs a hand through his champagne colored hair and gives me a friendly smile. His warm brown eyes stare back at me, waiting for me to just suddenly trust him.

That won't happen. I don't trust easy.

"Where are you taking me?" I question with a clenched fist on my hip.

"To the second floor, the VIP section."

Italian. Of course.

I want to question him further, but at the same time I've been dying to see what's on the second floor. I'm far too curious about the mysteries of the second floor to pass up the opportunity. So, instead of bombarding the poor man with an interrogation I decide to take a risk and follow him.

He leads me onto the elevator. Maintaining a polite amount of distance between us, he presses the button leading up to the second floor.

Classical music plays in the background, both excitement and fear shredding through my body. I don't know what to expect. Dead bodies? More Fierri brothers? Or maybe even a bunch of Italian men discussing Mafia plans?

I sneak a peek at the man standing on the opposite end of the elevator. He hasn't spoken, or even looked my way the entire time. I smile at the way his head subtly bobs to the music.

He's the first man here who hasn't checked me out, especially when I'm currently dressed like this. He's either playing for the other team, or he's afraid of what will happen if he does allow his gaze to skim my half naked body.

I feel like my heart has stopped beating, the anticipation only intensifying when I hear the sound of the elevator filling my ears. Ding!

The doors open. He waits for me to exit before stepping off himself. Walking in front of me, I take in my surroundings. The Fierri's sure love the color black.

There' isn't an ounce of furniture or accent that isn't coated black. From the booths down to the vase and roses sitting prettily on each table. I spot where the Fierri brothers usually sit when they arrive, or have a guest.

Passing by a dark skin bartender with locs serving drinks to a VIP member, I proceed down a dimly lit corridor.

There are doors on the left and right of me. I wonder what's behind each door? I almost take a peek in one of the rooms, but am interrupted by the man coming to a halt in front of me.

"You are to go inside and wait for instructions," his Italian accent booms in my ear.

"Instructions by who?" Even though he so clearly heard me, he chooses to ignore me. He simply continues down the hall before disappearing around the corner.

Shifting my attention back to the door, I reluctantly place my hand on the door knob. Promptly swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn the knob, push the door open and step inside.

Shutting the door behind me, my eyes dart around the dark room. My eyes begin to adjust to the sight before me.

Black walls, a single lamp light, and a black leather couch. That's it. That's all that occupies this college dorm like room.

I'm contemplating leaving. My heart rate is abnormal and fear is starting to overpower the excitement bubbling inside me. The rooms feels air conditioned, so I don't feel like I'm in a cramped Janitors closet. It also helps to me cool down.

It isn't until I hear the door open and close behind me that my body begins to burn. A waft of cologne clogs my senses, the familiar feeling of a hot body standing close behind me.

A body is suddenly pressed up against my backside, the heat radiating off their body making me feel like I'm standing next to a fireplace.

A warm breath on my neck causes the hair follicles to stand. I don't know if I should be frightened by the stranger behind me, but for some strange reason I'm not. Not even in the slightest.

Something black, shiny, and cool skates over my stomach. A gun. I make note of the warm olive skin tone and veins bracketing their hands. His hands.

It's without a doubt,

Niccolo Fierri.