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After the shitshow that was the meeting in my father's office, I needed a drink. I went to a bar and ordered my go-to drink, a whiskey neat. About three drinks in, I was trying to figure my way out of the marriage with Carla when a girl walked into the bar. Immediately, she drew my attention. Not only was she limping and moving slowly, but she had bruises, a busted lip, and two black eyes. Someone had beat this girl badly. With every step she took, you could see that she was stiff and struggling through the pain.
She had long, dark hair with layers of waves and curls. All of her features are tiny and her eyes are caramel brown. I’m mesmerized by her beauty. Her body was too thin and frail, but even with all of that, she was the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Who the fuck had hurt this girl? I sat and listened to the conversation she was having with the bartender and the manager, who both were sympathetic to her plight. She was desperate for work.
This girl was completely the opposite of women in the mafia world. They tended to be spoiled brats who wanted the money and power of being mafia wives and didn’t care how they got it. My mother being the exception. Valerie Martinelli was a good woman and never acted like other mafia wives. She wasn’t a gold-digging whore. Mom had always been loving and caring to my sister and me. Mom and Serena were extremely close, and I loved that they were. My little sister needed a good woman as a role model so that she didn’t turn into a viper like other mafia princesses that we knew.
Serena had turned out well so far. I loved my little sister, and I would protect her through any means necessary. I knew my father would as well. That she will be traded and sold off like cattle makes me wince. It’s how the mafia works.
We expect the women to be kept pure and virginal for their husbands while the men can go out and fuck their life away before and after marriage. Serena knows what will be expected of her, and when the time comes, either my father or I will arrange a marriage with a high-ranking member of our organization or a rival family.
As the girl finished up her conversation with the manager, she smiled and thanked them. Her smile made her busted lip break open and start seeping blood. These injuries were recent. They were not old. I couldn’t help being infatuated with this girl. She wasn’t asking for a handout or pity. She had been severely abused, and yet she was just asking for a chance to work and earn her way. Even beaten down by life, she was grateful when they offered her the job.
As the dark-haired woman left the bar, I knew I had to know more about her. I threw enough money on the bar to take care of my bill and leave a generous tip, and I followed behind her. I stayed far enough away that she didn’t notice me watching her. She moved slowly and agonizingly.
After entering a gas station and leaving with only a tiny snack-sized bag of potato chips, she headed back down a dark alley.
Why the hell is she only eating a bag of chips? She needs more food. She is already too thin. Now she’s going into a dark alley by herself? I really want to snatch her up and spank her ass red for putting herself in danger out here by herself.
She pulls a large duffle bag out from behind the dumpster and puts on a frayed, thin coat that has definitely seen better days. It’s not nearly warm enough. She goes to pull out a pill bottle but then thinks about it and puts it away. Her small body is using the duffle as a pillow and she’s lying on the frigid concrete.
She can’t be spending the night out here in the cold in a dark alley by herself, can she? What is she thinking?
Everly
As the morning sun streams down on me, I stretch my body. I am stiff as a board, and the soreness from my injuries is amplified. The cold pavement I slept on has made my aching body hurt even worse than before. I roll over and knock something over. As I look down, I see a sealed, brand-new bottle of water sitting beside me. I did not have a bottle of water when I went to sleep, so I’m dumbfounded how it ended up here. Not only that, beside it sits a bag from a local bakery and a coffee. When I feel the cup, the coffee is still really warm, hot even. As I open the bag, the smell of a fresh breakfast sandwich with bacon, egg, and cheese wafts into my nose.
What the hell? Who did this? Where did this come from? I know the old saying don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but how does anyone even know I’m back here? I know it can’t be my father because he wouldn’t waste money buying me a meal. I smell the food and coffee to see if I can smell anything wrong with it. I don’t think anyone would try to poison me other than Oliver and my father, but you never know.
My stomach lets out a loud growl, and I am through questioning where the food came from. I am starving and need sustenance. As I bite into the warm fluffy biscuit, it practically melts in my mouth. It’s the best breakfast that I’ve ever tasted. I am so glad no one is watching me eat because I’m shoving it in embarrassingly fast. The small bag contains packs of cream and sugar to add to the coffee. Once I get the coffee just how I like it, I decide I am going to savor it. I can’t remember the last time I had a great cup of coffee, and even when we had coffee, we hardly ever had the extra money for cream or sugar. Dad drinks his black, so he didn’t waste money on the cream and sugar just for me. I reach over and get my pain pills out of my duffle and swallow two down with some of the water.
I don’t know what’s going on, but it feels like the best Christmas morning of my life.
After I finish my meal, I pick up my bag and walk to a gas station nearby. Asking the attendant if I can use their bathroom isn’t ideal, but I need it. He looks at me as if I’m street scum but allows it. I cringe at what he must think of me.
Entering the bathroom, I remove the couple of toiletries that I brought with me and a clean change of clothes. I take a whore’s bath in the tiny sink, which is a challenge within itself, but I feel clean once I’m done. Paying special attention to the open wounds and scratches that I have, I clean them the best I can. The last thing I need is an infection right now. I can’t miss work tomorrow. My survival depends on it.
Still too sore to walk aimlessly around town, I return to my alley. I stuffed a couple of my favorite books into my bag. The covers are tattered and worn from reading them so many times, but it’s better than having nothing at all to do.
I spend the day trying to read and rest as much as I can. Knowing I need to heal so I can work on my feet all day tomorrow, I stay in the alley, trying to keep out of sight. I can’t let my dad find me now that I’ve finally gotten away. As bad as this situation is, I feel better being in a dark, cold alley in the middle of a strange place than returning to the bedroom where I was almost raped.
Gio
Watching the small woman enjoy the meal that I left for her was so gratifying. She moaned, obviously enjoying it, which made my dick jerk in my pants. I looked down at where my pants tented and literally had to adjust my cock so it wasn’t being strangled. I have never gotten this hard just from watching a woman eat.
I was especially glad to see that she took the pain medicine with the water that I had left her. She glanced around, looking for the culprit, but I knew she couldn’t see me where I was standing. I had been watching over her all night. I couldn’t fathom leaving her alone in this alley where someone could hurt her again.
Just the thought of someone hurting my girl makes me see red. My girl? Where the hell is that coming from? I don’t even know this woman. I feel very protective of her, and I don’t even know her name.
When she enters a gas station, she speaks to the clerk. He looks at her with disdain.That's strike number 1!It sends pulses of rage through me. How dare he look at her like that? My angel walks off toward the restroom with her bag in tow. The guy behind the counter watches her ass as she walks away.That’s strike two.
The clerk is a scrawny guy with a polo shirt on. It has the emblem of the station on the top left side. The other has a nametag that says manager. Daryl. I waltz up to the counter in my expensive suit.
“Morning, sir. I’m sorry about the present company. We get some homeless people in here. That one looks like she might be a working girl if you know what I mean. Cute and nice for a good hard fuck, but not the kind of girl that you wife up. Know what I mean.” He chuckles at himself.Strike three.
I reach over the counter and grab the dead man walking, by his fucking throat. “Hello, Daryl, is it? You can keep your fucking eyes off of my woman’s ass for a start. When that woman walks back out here, you do not fucking put your eyes on her. You do not give her dirty looks or act like she’s below you. She is an angel, and you will treat her as such. You will be polite. Do we understand one another?”
Daryl stutters as his eyes bulge out of his head. Probably because I’m choking him.
Stuttering, he answers me. “Ye… yes… yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that she was yours.”
