Page 98 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
By closing time, the restaurant had emptied of customers, and most of the staff had gone home to lives that probably involved more than a lonely apartment and nightmares about alpha mafia bosses. I changed out of my work clothes in the cramped employee bathroom, pulling my hood up despite the warm evening. Megan’s warning about the alphas lingered in my mind as I prepared to leave.
“Hey, Hart.”
I turned to see Reynolds standing in the hallway. His usual scowl was replaced by something more calculating, as though assessing my value.
“Got a proposition for you,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “Some businessmen were impressed with your… presentation. Willing to pay good money for some private time.”
My stomach churned, another wave of nausea threatening to bring up the meager lunch I’d choked down hours ago. “I’m a dishwasher, not a prostitute. Though I appreciate the career advice. Really broadens my horizons.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Just a private party. All you gotta do is serve drinks, look pretty.” His gaze finally met mine, cold and assessing. “Pay’s five times what you make here in a week.”
The offer was tempting—God knows I needed the money—but I wasn’t naive enough to believe it was just about serving drinks. I hadn’t fallen that far yet, no matter how desperate my situation.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I said, edging toward the door. “I’m allergic to ‘private parties’ where omegas mysteriously disappear. Gives me hives. Very unattractive.”
Reynolds stepped closer, blocking my path. “Wasn’t really asking, Hart. These are important clients. You don’t want to lose your job here, do you?”
The threat was clear. Sleep with the alphas or get fired. My options were narrowing rapidly.
“Actually,” I said, straightening my spine and channeling every ounce of dignity I had left, “I quit. Keep your job and your ‘proposition.’ I hear the sex trafficking industry is always looking for new recruiters if the restaurant business doesn’t work out for you.”
I pushed past him before he could respond, heart pounding as I headed for the back exit. I’d worry about finding another job tomorrow. Right now, I just needed to get home safely, preferably without being sold to the highest bidder.
The alley behind the restaurant was dark, lit only by a single flickering security light that seemed to be having an existential crisis. I pulled my hood lower and started walking, trying to look confident despite the fear churning in my gut. The main street was just fifty yards away. If I could reach it, I’d be relatively safe in the crowd.
I was halfway there when I heard footsteps behind me. Multiple sets, moving quickly.
“Hey, omega! Hold up!”
I didn’t need to turn to recognize Brad’s voice, now accompanied by what sounded like at least two others. I walked faster, praying I could reach the street before they caught up.
No such luck. A hand grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face three men—Brad and two alphas in expensive suits that I recognized from the dining room earlier. They had that polished, predatory look of men who were used to taking what they wanted without consequences.
“There he is,” Brad said, grinning at the businessmen. “Told you he was pretty.”
“Let go of me,” I growled, trying to pull away. “I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it.” I didn’t, but they didn’t need to know that.
The taller alpha—salt-and-pepper hair, designer watch, predatory smile—stepped closer, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, delicious. Male omega is such a rare treat.”
“I’m not on the menu,” I snapped, fighting the instinctive urge to submit to the alpha pheromones now flooding the alley. “Back off before I scream loud enough to shatter your overpriced veneers.”
“Feisty,” the second alpha chuckled, younger but equally well dressed. “I like that. Makes it more fun when they finally submit.”
Brad’s grip on my arm tightened. “Reynolds said you’d be cooperative. Don’t make this difficult.”
I looked around desperately for a weapon, an escape route, anything. The street seemed impossibly distant now, the security light casting grotesque shadows that made the alley feel like a trap.
“I’ll scream,” I warned, though we both knew it was an empty threat. No one would come running to help an omega in this part of town.
“Go ahead,” the older alpha said, reaching out to stroke my cheek. I jerked away from his touch. “No one will hear you over the traffic.”
I was about to knee him in the groin, consequences be damned, when headlights suddenly illuminated the alley, a car turning in from the street. All four of us froze as the vehicle approached, its high beams blinding in the darkness.
The car stopped, engine still running, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the driver’s door opened, and a figure stepped out—tall, imposing, face hidden in shadow.
“Problem here, gentlemen?” The voice was deep, commanding.
Brad released my arm immediately, his alpha bravado crumbling in the face of this new arrival. “No problem. Just talking to my friend here.”
