Sold to the Mafia Boss

House Rules.

(Maria)

My eyes jolted open the moment the bedroom door swung open. A doctor walked in along with Tommy. I moved to get out of bed but winced in pain. My fuc.king ankle, damn this bad luck of mine.

"Stop moving Maria, this is Dr. Parks. She's going to take a look at that ankle." Tommy said, but I just glared at him.

"You don't get to tell me what to do. I want to go home." I yelled. I wanted all of this to be some type of nightmare, but it wasn't.

"This is your home now, Maria, so stop with the attitude. Let the doctor look at your ankle." Tommy growled. Oh hell no! I'm not dealing with this. I picked up the bedside lamp and threw it at him. The lamp shattered against the wall, and pieces of it went everywhere. Tommy stood there unfazed, as if my actions didn't bother him. Instead, he walked over, leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I don't care how much shi.t you throw at me, but when I have guests brought here to help you, you will behave yourself. Try that again, and I promise you will regret it!"

Tommy stood up, and my eyes landed on the cut oozing blood. I did that, and he didn't seem fazed by it. The doctor walked over and began her assessment of my ankle. After about thirty minutes, she found that it was indeed sprained, and not broken, which I was thankful for, but I would have to keep weight off of it. She wrapped my ankle and wrote a prescription for the pain.

"How long will I need to use these?" I asked, pointing at the crutches.

"I'd say about two weeks, give or take. I'll be back then to take another look, and until then, try not to cause anymore...problems." The doctor finished, stood up and walked out the door. It was her nurse that gave me a disgusted look of disapproval that made me feel uncomfortable. I watched as the doctor left and Tommy stood at the door, watching me.

"Take a picture, it will last longer!" I muttered, and his lips curled up, as he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

"I meant that metaphorically, not literally." I yelled.

"Since this is your home now, why don't we get a few house rules laid out, shall we? Rule number one: you will not leave this house without a guard at your side. Rule number two: No one is allowed into my home without my permission. Rule number three: you will obey my rules, and if you don't, you will be punished how I see fit." Tommy said.

So he was going to treat me like a child, wasn't he? I'll find a way out of here.

"If you're thinking of escaping, good luck with that. You saw all my men when you arrived here. Not even Satan himself could leave on his own free will. You are free to explore everything around the villa and the grounds, everything except my office. I have already informed your boss of your injury and that you will be taking time off, for now."

Great two weeks of being locked up bored with nothing to do but listen to my own thoughts. I could catch up on all the homework I would miss, I would have to email my professors and ask them for the work. I continued to ignore Tommy, and watched him as he finally left me alone to my thoughts. Every day was complete boredom. Wake up, hop to the bathroom, shower, get dressed. Before I knew it, two weeks flew by so fast that I could hardly stand it. I never really saw Tommy, he was gone before I even got up. That was a relief. I got the 'all clear' from Dr. Parks and her snobby assistant. I wasn't sure what I did to the assistant, I stayed cleared from her as long as possible.

Graduation was two weeks away. I was able to leave the giant mansion, as long as I had two bodyguards with me. Classes were already weird enough, now I had to explain to everyone why I had the knuckleheads following me. I gave my two weeks at the coffee shop, but continued to work up to my last day. Elaine was happy that I would be staying at the diner, only for a couple of days a week. I already had a routine living at the big bad Mafia palace. I may not have been happy about it, but it was home for now.

My last class ended up flying by real fast. When the bell rang, I hurriedly left, leaving the bodyguards in the dust. I had the closing shift at the coffee shop. I would be able to finish up the last bit of make-up work I had since missing classes. I put on my apron and began to wring a rag between my hands, tearing my eyes up from the now-sparkling espresso machine with a sigh. I worked my ass off cleaning that. I have to plead with myself not to look at the clock hanging on the wall for the millionth time, but I do it anyway.

Dam.n it! It's half past six. Another two excruciating hours to go. My eyes scan lazily over the few customers sitting at the tables. I tap my fingers impatiently on the counter, musing over the ways I could close the café early. I could make up a lie that I smell a gas leak, act crazy so that everyone gets up and leaves, or I could just bide my time...patiently. I choose to bide my time. I need the money. On the plus side, I only have two weeks left, and then I'm going to figure out how to leave. Tommy can't keep me in his life forever.

I'm halfway through frothing a latte when... CRASH. A man comes flying through the glass door. Glass rains down on the floor, the few customers squeal and scream in terror as the man, bloodied and bruised, rises to his feet... It's Tommy, why the hell is he flying through a glass door? He looks straight at me, almost through me. His gaze is fierce and piercing. All I can think about is now I've got another mess to clean up. At this point, I was pissed and yelled, "The door is to your right, stupid!"

Tommy took a menacing step towards me. "Who are you calling stupid?"

"You. Damn, you must be even thicker than I imagined." I retorted.

Tommy reaches around his back, pulling a gun from the waistband of his slacks. He points it directly in my face, with a smug look on his lips. By now, all of my customers have run out screaming for their lives. I crossed my hands over my chest, and stared at him.

"It's just the two of us now," Tommy says, smirking. "Great math, well done. You want a cookie now?" I slapped back. His eyes flicker with rage, like a pitbull who's ready to attack. He tries to step towards me but staggers backwards, wincing. Whatever fight he was just in, has taken its toll.

"Help dress my wound." Tommy ordered, waving his gun at me. "Only if you ask me nicely," I said. His eyes widened at my response. "What did you say?" He asked. I sighed, imagining all the places and scenarios I'd rather be in right now. "Did your hearing get damaged too?" I asked sarcastically.

"No!" He yells. "Come on then, ask nicely." I repeat myself. Confusion and anger were written on his face. I propped my elbows on the coffee bar, watching him distinctly. "Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do." Tommy asked, still waving his gun. I rose up from my position, my weariness boiling into anger now. "Who do you think you are? If you don't want to bleed to death, then you need to ask me more nicely. If not, the door is right there," I said, pointing at the broken door that he caused. He stared at me, mouth open in shock. Gritting his teeth, he finally gave in.

"FINE! Will you please help me with my wounds?"

"There, that wasn't so hard now was it?" I said, pulling out the first aid kit from under the register. I reached out to pull off his jacket, but he flinched away. "What are you doing?" He asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Would you rather I called an ambulance?" I sneered, "I'm sure the police would be very interested in how-" Tommy stopped my sentence. "OK, fine. Just do it already." He says. I removed his jacket and assessed the damage. He's wearing a bloodied white v-neck underneath, which I pulled off as well. It's a lot to take in. His body is ripped! I mean the man has muscles and abs like no other, he's in great shape. His chest, arms, torso are all covered in tattoos. He could be carved out of stone if it weren't for the warmth that radiates off his skin.

I decided to make small talk, knowing it might piss him off. "Let me guess, I'd hate to see the other guy?" He grumbles, "you mean other guys." I rolled my eyes, pulled out a disinfectant wipe, and wiped a cut just above his brow.

"Fu.ck you! OW!!!" Tommy yelled. I decide to be rougher now that he's yelling profanity at me. I poured rubbing alcohol on more of his wounds. His actions tonight will surely raise hell with my boss tomorrow.