Contracted to the Mafia Don

Chapter 1

Elora

Nothing.

I'd torn through every drawer, checked under the bed, emptied every shoebox. Still no sign of the necklace my grandmother left me.

"Brenda!" I stood in the hallway and yelled. "Have you seen my jade necklace?"

"No." Brenda raised her coffee cup and took a slow sip.

Impossible. I'd locked it in the box myself. Had someone broken in?

I bit down hard and pulled out my phone.

"Hey, Officer Daniel! Good afternoon! Listen, my jade necklace—"

Before I could finish, Brenda lunged forward and ripped the phone from my hand. It hit the floor hard. The screen shattered into a spiderweb.

"What the hell are you doing? Calling the cops over something this trivial? What will the neighbors think? Do the Vances mean nothing to you?"

Brenda glared at me like I was her worst enemy.

"So you know where it is, don't you?"

Brenda pressed her lips together tight. Her eyes slid away.

I held out my hand. "Give it back. Grandmother left that to me."

"I didn't take your damn necklace!" Brenda's eyes went dark. "Don't make things up."

"You took it," I said flatly. "Give it back."

Brenda stared me down. After a long moment, she finally caved.

"Eleanor needs it for the charity gala. That necklace goes perfectly with her dress. Besides—" She straightened up, looking me up and down. "Something that delicate would just make your neck look thicker."

Eleanor. Of course.

"I'm going to her!" I swallowed the bitterness and turned to leave. Brenda grabbed me hard.

"What's wrong with lending it to your sister? Don't be so selfish."

"Selfish?" I almost laughed. "Brenda, taking something without asking is called stealing."

"Watch your mouth!" Her face flushed red. "I'm your mother! Don't talk to me like that!"

"Am I wrong? How many things have you 'borrowed' from me for her over the years? Has she ever returned a single one?"

"I knew it! I knew it!" Brenda started shrieking. "You ungrateful little bitch! That necklace should've been Eleanor's! You're the one who tricked that old woman!"

"That old hag never had her head on straight. No wonder she raised something as selfish as you."

"Don't you dare talk about Grandmother like that!" I shouted back, gripping her shoulders hard. Just then, Richard walked in from outside. I looked at him—if he'd just defend Grandmother! Even one word!

My father looked away. He picked up his gardening tools and headed silently upstairs. What was I expecting?

For as long as I could remember, when Eleanor took my birthday presents, he told me to share.

When she ruined my graduation dress, he said Eleanor didn't mean it.

When she wrecked my car's bumper, he told me not to make a big deal out of it.

Now she'd taken the last thing Grandmother left me, Brenda had insulted Grandmother's memory, and still all he could do was stay silent.

"See?" Brenda looked triumphant. "Even your father thinks you're being unreasonable."

I had no energy left to argue. I turned and headed out.

"Stop! Where are you going? Did you finish Eleanor's perfume? She doesn't like those cheap drugstore scents..."

I slammed the door hard behind me.

The moment I stepped outside, my eyes started burning. I put on my sunglasses and blamed it on the overly bright sunshine.

I pulled out my phone and opened the message Ethan sent last night.

—See you tomorrow night. Don't be late.

Today was his birthday. We'd planned to celebrate together.

I stared at those words. Suddenly I didn't want to wait until evening. At least there was one person who'd smile when he saw me. At least I still had Ethan.

I took a cab to Madison Avenue and got out in front of L'Arte del Taglio. The moment I walked in, the clerk Paul recognized me immediately.

"Miss Vance, perfect timing." He pulled a deep blue leather box from under the counter. "Just came back this morning."

He put on white gloves and opened the lid.

Black onyx set in a silver square mount, the edges engraved with delicate vine patterns.

The back had Ethan's initials. To buy it, I'd spent four straight months working overtime at Serenity Essence—mixing aromatherapy blends during the day, doing sleep therapy sessions at night, and taking on two private scent parties.

Paul handed me the cufflinks. "Beautiful engraving. Not many people bother with details like this."

"I hope he likes them."

Paul smiled. "Whoever gets this better know how lucky he is."

I paid the balance. Paul rewrapped them in dark gray paper and tied it with a narrow silver ribbon. After leaving the shop, I made a detour to pick up the trendy chocolate cake Ethan had been wanting.

When I opened the apartment door, the living room was empty.

"Ethan?"

No response. Two wine glasses sat on the dining table. One had a pale pink lipstick mark on the rim.

A short laugh came from the bedroom, followed by the bed frame bumping lightly against the wall. Logic told me to stop, but my legs were already moving toward the bedroom.

The door wasn't fully closed. Through the gap, I saw a pair of heeled sandals I knew all too well, then two bodies tangled together on the bed.

Ethan was shirtless. Eleanor sat on his lap, her blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders.

They kissed hungrily. One of Ethan's hands pressed against the small of her back, the other groping her chest. Eleanor moaned and tilted her head back, her voice sweet and sticky.

"Seriously, Ethan. Who do you like more? Me or Elora?"

Ethan snorted. "Do you really need to ask?"

"I want to hear you say it."

"You, of course, baby."

"Liar. I don't believe you."

Eleanor giggled and pushed Ethan playfully. He pulled her closer and kept kissing her breasts. Eleanor pressed his head down, dissatisfaction in her voice.

"Then tell me. What do you like about me?"

"You know."

Eleanor wasn't satisfied. Her hips dropped hard onto Ethan's crotch. He gasped.

"Say it."

"You little devil!" Ethan slapped her ass hard. "Oh! Baby, don't touch there! You're so much better than Elora. She's nowhere near as hot as you! I've been sick of her for ages. She's so boring, and all that fat, always messing around with her cheap aromatherapy crap. It's embarrassing."

Eleanor laughed and rolled her hips again. Ethan's movements got rougher. Eleanor cried out.

I couldn't watch anymore. I shoved the door open. They both turned to look at me.

"Elora?" Ethan frowned. "You should've called first."

"Sorry, I didn't know catching cheaters required an appointment."

Eleanor pressed closer into Ethan's arms and lifted her chin.

"Elora, don't say it like that. Ethan never married you. He can be with whoever he wants, right?"

"When did this start?"

Ethan stood up from the bed and grabbed his pants. "There's no point discussing this now."

"You're right. There's no point." I bit down hard. "But you owe me an explanation."

"I gave you chances." Ethan spread his hands, shrugging carelessly.

"But you always wore those baggy dresses, never came to my friends' parties.

When people asked about your job, I had to explain you weren't some street vendor selling cheap candles.

The only reason I stayed with you was because you had money to spend on me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered."

His words cut like knives, stabbing me full of holes. Ethan knew everything about me. He'd said he loved how I smelled. Said once we were stable, he'd support my dreams. Turned out those words, like his loyalty, were cheap knockoffs.

I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. Ethan froze, then his expression turned dark.

"Elora! Don't be ungrateful!"

"We're done!"

Eleanor laughed softly beside him. Her gaze slid from my chest to my waist. "Elora, you should've faced reality sooner. With a body like that, men might sleep with you, but they'd never marry you. Get it?"

"Bitch!"

I forced out a breath and slammed the door.

I walked out of the apartment. My legs didn't start shaking until the elevator doors closed.

The mirrored walls showed my reflection.

Hair disheveled, face pale, the oversized dress still unable to hide my too-full chest and hips.

I pressed my chest inward hard, pounding my hips until it started hurting.

Then I crouched down, curled up in the corner, and sobbed quietly.

Why? Why did I have to have this body?

When I was thirteen, my body developed faster than other girls my age.

That's when my mother's gaze started to change—first repeated scrutiny, then slowly growing disgust. So I chose baggy, shapeless clothes to hide my figure.

I even bought bras a size too small on purpose, letting the fabric squeeze my chest tight, living in suffocating oppression for years.

Eleanor, who used to follow me everywhere and told me everything, changed too. She avoided me deliberately, refused to be seen with me anywhere.

The cruelty at school never stopped. Boys always pointed and whispered.

Cruel names followed me everywhere—"fatty," "slut.

" Someone would shove me toward an overweight boy, everyone laughing and yelling "pig belongs with pig," and without fail, he'd push me away violently, furious, telling me to stay away from him.

Now, seeing that undisguised disgust in Ethan's eyes, sharp pain clenched my heart instantly.

What did I do wrong? Why did it have to be me who suffered all this?

I wandered the streets aimlessly. I don't know how long I walked.

Thunder cracked overhead. Rain poured down suddenly.

That's when I realized I'd wandered into a completely unfamiliar area.

Cold wind whipped rain at me. My scarf blew away.

I chased it, running into a narrow, cramped passage.

The moment I grabbed it, I saw a heavy metal door.

No sign on it, just a dark red mark embedded in the center.

I pushed. The door opened.