Kidnapped by the Mafia (The New York Mafia Daddies #1)

1. Emily

1

EMILY

“ S it the fuck down and shut the fuck up.”

I do as I’m told, my shoulders sagging. I know what’s about to happen but that doesn’t make this any easier.

Vince’s office is as grim as the rest of the call center, blinds drawn tight and the stench of sweat clinging to everything.

“You know why you’re in here?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

My stomach churns with anger and fear as I think of the bills piling up at home. “I’m sorry, Vince,” I say, the words bitter. I hate this job. Collecting debts from people who can’t afford to pay. “I’ll try harder.”

“No, you fucking won’t,” he continues, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. “You think you can be employed a week and not collect a penny?” His chuckle is dark, humorless. “You’re done here. Get out.”

He pulls an envelope from his desk drawer. “Greg gets your pay check. He knows how to get money from these scumbags, unlike you.”

He whistles and Greg appears in the doorway, a gleeful grin stretching across his rat-like face.

“Yes, boss?” he says.

“Here’s some bonus pay for the week,” Vince says with a smirk. “Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Vince glares at me. “Are you still here? Fuck off.”

I stand slowly, my legs heavy with the weight of defeat, and head for the door. In the last six months, I’ve lost three jobs. Now it’s four. I’m beginning to think I might be cursed.

The door clicks shut behind me. I can hear the two of them laughing as I walk away.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzz louder than ever, mocking me as I head past my cubicle, not bothering to gather my things.

What’s the point? There’s nothing there worth keeping. I step out of the office into the corridor. My mind is spinning, replaying the last half hour over and over.

Fired for trying to have a conscience in a place that seems to thrive on crushing people under its heel. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it’s like trying to stop a ship from sinking with a bucket.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and Mia’s name flashes on the screen. For a split second, I consider not answering. But I can’t do that to her. She’s the only person in this city who gives a damn whether I come home at night.

I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I manage to say, trying to sound normal, like my world hasn’t just crumbled at my feet.

“Em, I thought you were at work.” Mia’s voice is tight, and I can hear the panic in it, the kind that comes when you’re desperately trying to hold it together but failing. “I was going to leave a message. Can you talk?”

“I’m on my way home,” I say, starting to walk again. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and when Mia speaks again, her voice cracks. “We’ve been robbed.”

For a moment, I don’t understand. Robbed? Us? Our apartment is a dump; what could anyone possibly want from us?

“What do you mean, robbed?” I ask, though I’m already picturing it: our door kicked in, the little we have thrown around like garbage, someone’s dirty hands rifling through our things.

“They took the TV,” Mia says, her words coming out in a rush now. “And… and your mom’s necklace, Em. It’s gone. I’m sorry.”

My heart stops. The TV I can live without, but the necklace… I stop walking, my hand clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white. “No, no, that can’t be right. Maybe you missed it. Maybe it’s somewhere else, in the kitchen or?—”

“I looked everywhere, Em,” Mia cuts in, her voice small and defeated. “I’m so sorry.”

It feels like someone’s punched me in the gut. The necklace was the only thing I had left of my mom, the last piece of her I could hold onto.

It’s stupid, I know—just a piece of cheap jewelry—but it was my reminder that I wasn’t completely alone in this world. I had a mother once. Never had a father. He fucked off long before I was born, but at least I had a mother.

Now it’s gone. Just like my job. Just like her. Like everything I touch.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. The words stick in my throat, trapped under the weight of grief and anger and the sheer exhaustion that’s threatening to swallow me whole.

“Em, are you still there?” Mia’s voice is thick with worry.

“Yeah,” I croak out. “I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, and I can hear the tears in her voice. “I should have been home. I should have?—”

“It’s not your fault,” I interrupt, though I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself. “It’s not your fault we can only afford a shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood, Mia.”

There’s a long silence between us, the kind that happens when there’s nothing left to say. Finally, Mia speaks again, her voice soft and hesitant. “How come you’re coming home anyway?”

Home. I almost laugh at the word. Our dingy apartment is barely more than a box with peeling wallpaper and creaky floors, but it’s all we have. Or had, anyway. Now it’s just a place where something else has been taken from me.

“Fired,” I say finally.

“Again? I’ll get the ice cream out to defrost.”

“That’s my gal.”

I hang up before she can say anything else, shoving the phone back into my pocket. My feet feel like lead, but I can’t seem to find the energy to head in the direction of the elevator.

The thought of going back to that apartment, to the empty space where my necklace used to be, feels like more than I can handle right now.

My mind is somewhere else—lost in the past, in the memory of my mom’s smile, the way she used to tuck that necklace under my shirt like it was her most precious secret. I can almost feel the cool metal against my skin, the weight of it so familiar it’s like a part of me.

I stopped wearing it years ago, afraid someone would snatch it from me in the street. But now it’s gone anyway, ripped away like everything else.

I keep walking, my feet carrying me through the building without any real direction. It’s only when I stop and look around that I realize I don’t know where I am.

The hallways all look the same, lined with anonymous doors and cold, sterile lighting. I’ve never been in this part of the building before, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of panic. But it fades as quickly as it came.

What does it matter if I’m lost? What does anything matter anymore? I’ll reach an elevator sooner or later.

I keep moving, not because I know where I’m going, but because I can’t seem to stop. Each step echoes off the walls, the sound hollow and lonely.

It feels like I’m the only person left in the world, wandering through this maze of endless corridors, searching for something I know I’ll never find.

I turn another corner and push open a door, the cold light washing over me in waves, and suddenly, the hallway opens up into a completely different space.

The gray, monotonous walls give way to rich, dark wood paneling, and the sterile overhead lights are replaced by the soft, golden glow of expensive lamps. I blink, trying to make sense of it.

Laughter and the murmur of voices reach my ears, and I realize I’m not alone in here. The sound is coming from a set of double doors slightly ajar at the end of the hallway. The polished brass handles gleam invitingly, and before I know it, I’m pushing the door open and stepping inside into a whole new world.