Saved by the Mafia (BOOK 1)

Introduction

-CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT-

Author's note: The story contains certain parts that mention abuse. The first few chapters are the most explicit. I promise that the rest of the story isn't as dark. The reason I wrote so much of it in the first few chapters is to give a background so you can understand Amber and her future actions a little bit better. If you want to skip the details it's fine. Amber will tell her story in the future. I apologize in advance if it offends anyone. Please give the story a chance and don't base your opinion on the first few chapters. Thank you. :)

Amber Beaumont

Somehow she knew. She knew that whatever she had lived before this moment was nothing compared to what would happen from then on. He was evil and she had seen him angered many times, however this time he didn't look like a heartless man. No, he looked like the devil himself.

She was watching everything, not by choice but rather because he wanted her to. She had to witness her mother be dragged by her hair and once she was thrown into the room he began to hit her in whichever way he could think of. Blow after blow she was forced to watch her mother's torture. She would never forget those horrible screams of agony that resounded through the room, everything else had faded and it was all she could hear. After that excuse of a man had decided it was enough he once again pulled her across the floor until she was facing her. The sight of her mother's face after such a gruesome beating pained her in a way she had never felt before. Finally, it was the fatal gunshot that managed to shatter her heart completely and it was never to be whole again.

I wake up in a cold sweat. Yet another memory that comes to haunt me in my sleep, not even then am I safe. I stand up and try my best to calm myself. This is one of my most traumatizing and recurring nightmares. I don't want to cry again, it makes me feel weak but as always I fail to keep my composure and I feel the first tear fall. Before I know it I'm on the floor letting it all out in quiet sobs. I stay there, hugging my legs allowing myself to mourn my losses. Eventually, my eyes start to droop and not much longer after that I feel the darkness engulf me...

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"Get up!" I feel a kick land on my ribs. Before I can even manage to open my eyes I feel myself being lifted by my hair with some of them being ripped out of my scalp in the process.

"I said get up!" Once I get on my feet I lower my gaze. Every day I am tortured for a different reason. Today I know what's coming, it's always the same routine. He will either beat me for not looking at him when he speaks or it will be because I have been crying. Either way, I'm going to be unfairly punished. My face turns harshly and I feel my cheek heat up after receiving a hard slap across my face.

"What have I told you? Look at me when I'm speaking you worthless bitch!" He grabs me and forces me to face him.

"Have you been crying? You really are stupid, aren't you? I tell you not to cry and you still do it. You can't expect me to stop punishing you when you keep pulling this kind of shit!" He punches my stomach and forces the air out of my lungs.

"You want to cry? I'll give you a real reason to cry." He throws me and I find myself on the floor once more as he begins to beat me. Over and over. All I can do is place my arms in front of me in a useless attempt to protect myself from his wrath. I start to feel dizzy and thankfully he notices just in time before I actually pass out. He limits himself to an extent because he isn't planning on ever killing me. That isn't what he likes. No, he simply enjoys torturing me and making me go through everything I can manage to take. The worst beatings are like this, he does enough to just barely leave me breathing.

"Maybe this will teach you to stop disobeying me. Although, I hope not. I do enjoy spending quality father-daughter time with you." He starts to leave the room, but he turns around one last time staring at me with those cold and empty eyes I've come to fear.

"Oh, and don't forget you have to work tonight."

Alessandro Santos

Another successful job. I smile to myself as I look around at everyone celebrating at one of our clubs. This is basically our daily routine. We do our job, we do it right and then we bask in the glory. We wouldn't be one of the biggest, strongest and most feared mafias if we accepted failure. No, that is never an option.

"Hey handsome, why are you so serious? I'm sure I could help cheer you up."  I'm brought out of my musings as I feel a weight on my lap. Before even moving my gaze, I know it's another cheap whore looking to get lucky with me. When I finally look up at her she winks at me with her poorly caked on makeup and obviously fake eyelashes. She's still undeniably attractive but I've stopped caring for these type of women. It's a never ending cycle of drinking and releasing my sexual needs with the first female who offers herself. It's all become so monotonous to me. Most people would kill to have the empire that I have. I have power, power that others could only dream of. With the literal snap of my fingers I can have anything I want. My life is filled by nothing more than power and money. Even with all of it I feel empty because I could have anything except a normal life. I know that being the boss means I can't afford to be weak, but I have always wondered what it feels like to truly live. I would never admit it but I don't like having to be this heartless man I'm forced to portray. I want to be able to show weakness, to be able to say that I'm tired, to cry whenever I feel helpless, to laugh at whatever I please and most of all to be vulnerable, to be able to love, to know what it is to find that special person and feel like I can't live without them. I've never known what love is and if I ever did it's been far too long for me to actually rememeber it. Sadly, I know I will continue to long for happiness until my death. In order to feel alive, I have to actually allow myself to feel anything and that is something I cannot do, for feelings lead to weakness. In my position weakness is unacceptable, I wouldn't just put myself at risk, I would jeopardize everything. My men are my family, they give everything for me and in return I have to guarantee their safety. How can I be their leader if I'm weak?

"Come on big guy. Snap out of it. Let's go have some fun and make you forget whatever has you stressed out." She has her hand on my chest over my shirt, running it up and down. I feel my lip automatically curl into a scowl. I hate to be interrupted. 

"Get off." I refrain from yelling at her because I know she's just trying to do her job and because I don't feel like causing a scene. I glare at her and she looks back with a surprised face but she composes herself quickly and seems ready to continue trying to seduce me. Before she can though, I push her off of me and stand.  I usually would have listened to her but lately I've found myself doing these kinds of things less and less. I stopped finding satisfaction in it. Now, it's only for when I am extremely needy of it. Tonight, I'm not feeling this kind of shit. I turn around ignoring her and walk up to Nicholas, my second in command. Who also happens to be my best friend and one of my two brothers. We grew up together, trained together, learned together, and suffered together. We aren't related by blood but our bond goes way beyond that.

"I'm leaving. Remember to not overdo it. You know we always need to be ready and alert." He lifts his gaze from the glass in his hands to look at me.

"Yes, boss. I know. Have I ever failed you? Trust me, I never forget my responsibilities." He gives me a sideways smirk to which I return a sharp nod. I say my goodbyes before making my way to the car. I get in and I drive off toward my house. As I drive along the empty road my mind wanders back to my existencial crisis. I think of how alone I am and how I'm on my way to a large, cold and empty mansion with no company other than my housekeeper's. I wish it could someday feel like a home, not just a building with no real significance to me. I grunt and mutter to myself because it's stupid to want something I will never have. I know I'll always have to go back to that lonely place and by hoping for more I'm only torturing myself. I'll always be damned to be Alessandro Santos, the ruthless mafia leader.

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Author's note

Hello, I'm Mo the author of this story. This is my first time writing anything for someone other than myself. I apologize in advance if my writing abilities aren't the best.

I hope you enjoy my story. Thank you for giving it a chance!