Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"Who are you?" I raised an eyebrow at the man lurking behind me with a clipboard in his shaky hands. His position wasn't exactly clear to me but I knew he was one of the people I had brought overseas from the auction in France.

"Uh—" he stopped short and looked around, tapping his fingers on the clipboard like it was a nervous tic. "I was told that you would give me a name."

"Who do I look like, your birth mother?" Ignoring the fact that I should have met my new employees properly days ago instead of obsessing over Marco and Lina, there was a meeting I had to get to and no time for this interaction. "What was your name before you were trafficked?"

"Dominico." The man blinked at me flatly. "Are you going to give me a new name?"

"I can't do that for taxing purposes. Pass me that gun, would you?" The matte black metal contraption was sitting on the table closer to Connor's side of the office because the idiot had left it there as if owning firearms wasn't illegal in England.

Dominico looked at the gun, then back at me, almost to ask me if I was sure about that.

"There's not a person in this club who wouldn't shoot you dead if something happened to me. Pass me the gun." He reached for it without so much as a grunt, and passed it back to me. "Thanks. How old are you?"

"Thirty." He responded with as much enthusiasm as a crusty sock.

"You're thirty years old and still being passed around in the trafficking circles?" It had to be because he looked so young. "How long have you been there?"

"Fifteen years."

Oh shit, my bad. To be fair he looked good for his ordeal.

"Why are you lurking around behind me, then?"

"I'm supposed to be your assistant…? Isn't lurking behind you my job?" He looked confused, as I'm sure anyone would be if they were getting their first taste of the real world after fifteen years.

"Yes, technically." I stared at him with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher what my next course of action would be. This guy was all types of depressed, I could tell that much just by looking at him. He probably thought he'd never escape the rings. "Alright, come on, take me to where the others are."

Dominico silently agreed and turned to lead me towards the stairs. Hearing his name made me wonder what country he was from. Something about him looked transcontinental but I could very well be absolutely wrong and end up misidentifying him.

"You have a very annoying habit of disappearing when the most important things are about to happen." Moira shoved a piece of paper at my c.h.e.s.t. "I'm leaving for a spa appointment. Don't call me."

I rolled my eyes and looked down at the list, which was actually a list of names. Everyone who had been brought over from France was on the list. Looking up into the room, many men and women were standing there, fully clothed and nervously looking at the guards that lined the walls.

Obviously Connor or Moira went overboard and hired the whole damn defense faculty of the country.

"Okay, I'm sure you are all wondering why you are here." I began with my signature Isabella accent. Like hell if these people knew who I really was. "My name is Isabella and I am the manager of this Club Cinque. From now on all of your duties will be assigned by me, if you have any novelties you report to me, and please, I cannot stress this enough, do not run away or I shall be forced to kill you."

Not a sound went around the room beside the usual crappy air conditioning unit that I had to replace soon.

"Your employment is not permanent, of course. Each of you will be offered a contract that you can negotiate before signing, which will stipulate that you will be completely free of your duties upon the end of the period specified. You will be offered protection and a new identity, both of which are optional, and you will be returned to your families, hometown, or wherever you wish to go."

This grabbed their attention a bit, and I could visibly see a few of them straightening up and paying more attention.

"You were bought to be employees, not slaves. Upon the signing of the contract you will be implanted with a chip to alert us of your location at all times. The removal of this chip is also negotiable. Once you are integrated as an employee under Katarina Montenegro, late owner of this club, you will be granted to live your life as normal, even to contact your family and visit different places in other countries freely using your vacation time, as you would with a normal job. You will not be restricted, but you will be expected to return as this city will be your home until the end of your contract."

A few murmurs from the small crowd now went around the room.

"Once again I must reiterate, if you run, we will kill you." With that said, I began to look through the list. "Your names will remain the same and I shall have someone call you one by one to my office and show you tte contract. As I've said the contract is negotiable and you will be able to shorten the amount of time you are contracted depending on which job you pick and how you do it. Any questions?"

My eyes scanned the room to see a few hesitant faces. They wanted to raise their hand or voice their question, but were probably scared of my reaction if they did so.

"You." I picked a random woman from the crowd. "What is your question?"

"Will we be paid?"

"Yes. This is a job. Next?" I scanned the room again. "Speak up freely, nobody is going to harm you."

"Where will we live?" Dominico himself asked this.

"You can continue living in the townhouse where you have resided until now. As time goes on and you gather more money, you will be able to acquire different living arrangements by your own account. Any other necessities such as clothes, hygienic products and such will be provided for you by us until you are able to purchase them yourselves."

"How will we report to you?" Someone else asked.

"Schedule an appointment with me through Dominico, he is my assistant now. Your salary statements will be provided every fifteen days as that will be your pay days. You will be payed collectively in cash until you are able to gather enough to start a bank account or any form of electronic holding. Anything else?"

"Are we really free?"

I was expecting the question at some point but actually hearing it almost moved me to tears. "Mistress Katarina did not believe in slavery. You are free." My watch beeped, reminding me that I had somewhere to be and that this wasn't the time to get emotional, so I turned to leave the room. "All of you stay here and I will have someone come inside and orient you on your next steps. I hope to see you all on your first day."

Being that my last words had been an epic end to an epic speech, I was so high on my epicness that I hadn't noticed the nervous man following me around until after putting on my coat. We blinked at each other quietly for a moment.

"Can I help you?"

"Umm… I'm supposed to go with you."

"Since when?" I snapped impatiently, already over having to delay my trip to the meeting for this little conversation.

"Well, I'm your new assistant, right?"

My stomach prickled with irritation, even though his question was perfectly valid because I really hadn't explained what his duties would consist of. Dominico had to go through a training first, and then I would be able to tag him along with me everywhere.

"Yes but you're not coming with me yet. Go to the second floor and wait in my office, I'll have someone go up there to train you. Don't touch anything."

The man nodded once and immediately turned to head back toward my office. He kind of reminded me of a labradoodle in a way I couldn't really explain. His personality reminded me of the canine more than his looks did, but I had to keep in mind that he had just spent fifteen years being trafficked, so surely his mental state wasn't okay.

I grimaced at myself for being inconsiderate and shook my head, making a mental note to also touch up the roots of my dye job sometime during the week. My disguise was very high maintenance

"Alright, let's get going," I called out to Henri, who had been inconspicuously waiting for me in the lounge area, running a white gloved finger over a black marble surface. He had insisted on sticking around me for the meeting and/or until Marco got the hell out of England. "Oh, before we leave." I shifted course slightly. "Saint, my new assistant is waiting in my office, please tell Moira to send someone and give him proper training."

"Got it, boss." The petite woman hired by Moira saluted me and got on the phone immediately, presumably to do what I'd asked her to do. Satisfied that everything was running smoothly, I tapped my ID card on the reader beside the reception podium and clicked in my employee number to log into the system that I had clocked out of the building.

Upon the remodeling of the place, I had insisted that every employee have an ID card that they needed to scan every time they entered or left the building, mostly for security purposes. There was a card reader hidden behind a rubber plant beside the reception podium and another one in the back entrance for the dancers so they wouldn't have to walk in the front door if they didn't want to.

I was also working on installing a membership card reader that came as an extension of the security system we had just finished integrating, which would be for our regular customers who signed up for the program.

All in all, I wanted to ensure that my club would be safe. Nobody walked in or out without being logged, and the security cameras hidden above the doors would capture anyone who wasn't registered.

"Henri," I called to the silent man walking beside me towards the sleek black SUV I was proud to call the car I rarely drove.

"Yes, miss?"

"Do you know where The Loft is?"