Captured by a Mafia Boss

Chapter 3: Take the Night Off

JULIAN'S POV

I felt like I could finally breathe a bit after the chaos had ebbed and Daniel was taken back home to rest. The feeling of chaos was a constant in my life. Even if I got 'vacations', it never felt like a d*mn vacation. I didn't get to f*cking relax where I landed. It was always business where I had to keep a certain aura about myself, which got really f*cking exhausting. But right now, that wasn't my f*cking concern, I had a girl waiting for me in my office who was practically scared sh*tless by what had happened. And now, I had to clean up the d*mn mess.

I grabbed a bottle of Champagne on the way to my office in the empty club, finding Vivian sitting on the burgundy, crushed velvet, couch in the room. She was fiddling with the lace hem of her lingerie when I entered. Her gaze was locked on her fingers, watching them play with the delicate material. It was easy for me to spot she was nervous by the way she moved and the atmosphere around her. I had seen plenty of men act the same way around me when I had interrogated them. It's a wonder how tough men beg for mercy and change their f*cking tune when you're threatening to take what matters most to them.

I sat down beside her and uncorked the Champagne, causing her to jump and peer up at me with a confused expression. I figured it would be easier if I got her to unwind a bit. Lord knew I needed a drink after tonight. I poured her a glass and held it out towards her, waiting for her to take it from me. I wouldn't blame her to be cautious about it, she didn't know me. For all she knew, I could have poisoned it. Not that I would do that to her, I wasn't the type of a**hole who did that to women in a club. There was a reason I had a lot of my guys watching in the club besides the fact they were doing jobs for me.

She held up her hand to refuse it, “I'm not supposed to be drinking on the job."

“Who told you that?" I balanced the glasses between my fingers as I poured myself one.

“It's my own rule," she shrugged her shoulders and kept her gaze on her lap.

I nodded and stood up, setting the glasses of Champagne along with the bottle onto my desk. I wouldn't pressure her to break one of her morals or work ethics. I wasn't brought up to disrespect someone. If she didn't drink during work, then she didn't. End of f*cking discussion. However just because she didn't indulge in spirits, didn't mean she didn't need to stay hydrated. I grabbed a pitcher of ice water and a clean glass, pouring her some.

I grabbed one of the Champagne-filled glasses on the way back to her. The couch dipped beneath me, shifting her slightly, as I sat down. I held the glass of water out towards her and spoke in an authoritative tone, “Drink, please."

No bone in her body f*cking hesitated as she took the glass and nervously brought it to her red lips, almost thankful that I had given her something to do.

I took a long sip of my Champagne and watched her tap the side of her glass with her nails. The slight movements of her lips and the way she raked her teeth along the bottom one told me she was gathering the courage to ask me something.

I rolled up my sleeves and watched her gaze flick to my snake tattoo that was revealed when my dress shirt slid up my forearm. Her green eyes focused on the location of the time, and I figured she was wondering what it meant. The way her lips pressed in a thin line before she brought the water up to them again made me realize she'd saved that in her memory for later. Seen it a million times before in my line of work. A simple twitch, shift, or gesture meant something that they weren't saying. You had to become familiar with bodily movements if you wanted to survive or weed out a f*cking informant. My father taught me that sh*t early on.

Although, I can say that I never f*cking thought I'd be standing in his d*mn shoes running his Organization as if it were my own. Which, my mom was still trying to figure that sh*t out. Between her constantly nagging me when I was going to bring a good girl home and not some 'cheap wh*re', as she liked to f*cking say, and asking me to stop working during my father's funeral, like I could just stop running a d*mn business, was annoying as all h*ll. F*cking h*ll, it was like it was just yesterday that she was crying beside me in a pew at our Catholic church and worrying over me ended up dead like my d*mn father.

“Look what happened to your father. You want to have your feet further into that grave with him?" Her words echoed in my head, as I remembered her on the day of his funeral.

“May I speak?" Her voice was suddenly so small compared to earlier, pulling me from my thoughts. Sh*t, I had gotten distracted by my d*mn family. I looked her over and something about her calmed me, but where had my f*cking bratty girl gone?

“You may," I set the glass on my thigh, grasping the top of it with my fingertips, and rested my head on my fist.

She tapped her glass once again, drumming her nails along the smooth surface. She chewed on her bottom lip and parted them to speak, “Is it typical for shootings to happen here?"

I softly smiled and sighed; I couldn't f*cking lie to her. “In my line of work, it's kill or be killed. Either you show your worth or you're useless."

I watched the way she pulled back from me in surprise at my words. I let my smile fade from my lips and downed the rest of the d*mn Champagne from my glass. I set my empty glass on the floor beside my dress shoe, before leaning back against the couch and placing my arm along the back of it.

I set my jaw and sized her up, letting my gaze ghost up and down her body before staring at her and letting a thick aura build between us. “Why did you want this job in the first place when there are so many other strip clubs out there? Not to mention other various jobs in other career fields."

“It's the closest to my studio apartment. I go to college with a lot of the girls in here. It's temporary, or rather was planned to be. Now, I'm unsure if I'll ever be able to quit," she sighed and mumbled the last bit, rubbing the back of her neck.

I could tell she was uneasy talking to me, and I relaxed a bit to let the thick atmosphere taper off into nothing. I watched her shoulders slowly lower, and I warmly smiled, there we go.

Her gaze flashed up to mine finally and I watched the rose gold tag on her collar swing. God, that collar would haunt me the moment she was out of my sight. I watched her run her fingers along her half-drunk glass of water, causing the condensation to drip down the sides onto her bare thighs.

Goosebumps graced her skin and her muscles twitched, causing her to press her thighs together. The corner of my lips curled up in an amused expression, “I see." I looked her over and decided that she had had enough for one night, “You've had a long night. How about you head home and rest. You'll have a fresh start tomorrow night." I smiled for her and watched her nod.

“Thank you," she smiled and stood up, setting the cup down, still barely drunk, and left my office. If I had my say she would have finished that before leaving my presence.

There was one thing I knew for sure; she was going to be the death of me. I knew then that letting her go was going to be the hardest thing I had to do today, but I wouldn't do that until after I made sure she was okay. I'd keep tabs on her for the next few shifts because I needed to know more about her. The way she worked and moved would tell me more.

***

I spent the next few days watching the new girl work the floor. Every movement, every sway of her hips, every word from her lips, and the way she played with that d*mn collar drove me wild. Her gaze kept flickering over to me, capturing me and drawing me in like a siren at sea. I could tell that our little conversation had made her more curious about me. Every brush of her fingertips on my glass when she would set it down in front of me, every subtle movement of her giving me sass while doing so. She was bratty, yet obedient, just begging to be punished and provoking me to make a move like a calculated pawn on a chess board.