When The Orphan Meets The Mafia Lord

Emilio's POV

I need to leave right now. I had just gotten an important call from one of my men while I was in the bathroom. Turns out the Russians had intercepted one of my trucks containing cocaine and I needed to handle the matter swiftly.

I had wanted to leave before Layla woke up, couldn't bear to look into those sad brown eyes, that I was sure was staring at me in fright.

After what I had done last night to her, I was fairly certain that she would start to behave. I didn't want a repeat of what happened last time, because if she were to run away again and I caught her, I wasn't so sure that I would be as lenient as I had been.

I didn't feel any remorse for letting her sleep on the ground or almost choking her to death. She had to learn who was in charge and since she insists on pushing my buttons, then I had no problem teaching her the hard way.

I will not tolerate people whose sole goal is to defy me.

That's how I was raised. My father had toughened me up from an early age. Whenever I slipped up, he would make sure to punish me in a way that I would never forget so that I never make the same mistake twice.

He was a hard man, never shown me love. I guess that's why I am the way that I am today. He wasn't grown in a home with love, so he made sure I wasn't either.

Love makes you weak son and your enemies will use that weakness against us. I can't really remember my mother, because she died when I was ten at the hands of one of my dad's enemy. She was the only person my dad showed love to.

When she died it was like a part of him had also died. I had to grow up without a mother, with a rock for a father. He was very good at hiding his emotions, never letting anyone see pass his tough exterior.

He groomed me to be the man I am today, never to show mercy or remorse.

I still don't understand how a warehouse full of highly trained men let one woman slip through their fingers. I was impressed by Layla, but I won't let her know that. She had survival instincts and in this world you needed it most.

It was my men's egos that were bruised more than anything when they had to inform me that Layla had managed to get away. She was a spitfire. I have never met a woman quite like her before, which made her very intriguing.

However, she was still annoying. Her stubbornness and will to disobey me annoyed me beyond bonds.

It was a good thing that she was easy on the eyes, with curves in all the right places, full perky breasts that my hands were itching to squeeze and a nice round butt begging to be spanked.

I had only decided to take her back to my room where I could keep an eye on her. Some of my men were insisting that I hand her over to them so that they could have their way with her, but I couldn't.

There was a nagging voice in the back of my mine that was telling me to keep her for myself. She looked so innocent and pure that I couldn't just hand her over to them so that they could corrupt and break her.

She was better off with me, but I wasn't just going to go soft on her either. No, no, no. I was going to break and bend her to my will.

...

Upon my arrival at one of my warehouse where the cocaine was to be transported, I was met with a few nervous men waiting for me. I loved it when they shook in fear from just looking at me. It gave me satisfaction to know that they feared me, which means that they know better than to double cross me.

"What happened?" I demanded as I stared at the men before me.

"We were ambushed by the Russians, they were waiting for us. They took the truck and killed the driver. Some of our men were wounded, but they'll live. We were able to apprehend one of their men. We have him in the interrogation room waiting for you" one of them replied in fear.

A sadistic smile graced my face as I thought about how I was going to torture the Russian. No one steals from me and gets away with it. Walking over to the interrogation room, I couldn't help my excitement knowing that there was a living breathing punching bag waiting to feel my wrath.

Luca was walking beside me with a smug smile on his face. I know that he enjoyed these interrogations as much as I do.

I love hearing the screams of my victims as they begged and pleaded for their lives. The more they withheld the information the more I get to torture them until they finally spilled their guts.

They always talk. Traitors. They had no code of conduct. They would rather betray their boss than die. In our world we all know that people like them deserve to die and I am more than willing to put them out of their misery.

Stepping inside the room I could see the man tied to a chair with his head hanging low. I closed the door loudly on purpose so that I could see his reaction when he saw me.

The reaction did not disappoint. It was priceless how he cowered away, sinking into the chair with fear plastered on his face.

This is how I liked it. If they don't fear you, then they won't respect you. Clearly his boss doesn't care about the peace treaty that he and my father had made years ago.

They had just broken the treaty, so this means war.

"Who sent you?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. I was just testing his loyalty.

He started cussing me out in Russian as if he thought that I couldn't understand a work he was saying. Boy how wrong he was. My father had made sure that I learnt at least 10 different languages and Russian was one of them

"Come on don't be like that" I said mocking him with a hurt expression on my face.

His eyes widened when he realized that I had understood what he had been saying. He had been calling me a 'son of bitch' for the past minute.

"I'm going to ask you one last time. Who sent you?" I spoke with so much venom in my voice, he cracked almost immediately.

"Boris" he whispered in defeat

See what I mean?

Well that was easy, I thought to myself. Although I had already known it was him.

"Boris Dmitriev. And what might Boris want with my drugs?" I demanded.

He clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head repeatedly. How fun. He was making this hard on himself. If he cooperates, then he'd just get a bullet in the head. But now he might get several bullets, among other forms of torture until he tells me what I want to know.

Why do they always make it hard on themselves? It's not like they don't know that they're going to die. I guess it's a good thing I'm wearing all black today.

Shrugging off my leather jacket I sighed as I went over to the wall on the right side of the room and pushed a button. Within a few seconds the metal on the wall slid away revealing my weapons for torture.

I sigh as I tried to find the perfect torture weapon for this situation. This was always the hardest part. I mean there were so many different weapons to choose from, it was frustrating. Plus they were all my favorite, because they all brought pain to my victims.

Sighing I chose a simple dagger. Simple, but effective.

Walking over to the chair the Russian was bounded to; I stabbed him in the thigh. He cried out in pain with tears streaming down his face. Clearly he had a very low pain tolerance, which will make him-.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you what you need to know" he rushed out in pain.

Well that was easy. I didn't even get to put another dagger in his other thigh, I thought with disappointment.

Luca was leaning against the door laughing. He could tell that I was sad the torture was over. Giving him the middle finger, which only made him laugh more, I turn around back to my hostage.

I raised an eyebrow signaling him to start talking now.

"He only said that you stole from him and that he wanted you to feel how it feels when something important is taken from you. That's all he said, he never elaborated on what you actually stole" he said breathing hard.

I stole from him. That didn't make any sense, unless one of my men stole something from him.

I had gotten the answer, which didn't make any sense to me. Nodding to Luca, signaling that I was done with the Russian I walked out the room. Just as I made it outside I heard a gunshot go off.

Luca walked out shortly afterwards brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. I shook my head as I saw his smirking face.

We both enjoyed killing people. I know we seem twisted and all, but again our father raised us this way. We both had our first kill at the age of twelve.

Since there was nothing else left at the warehouse to do, we decided to head back to the mansion, where we will start planning an attack on Boris.

Surely he must have known that I would respond. And if it is a war that he wants, then a war he shall have.

...

Stepping inside the mansion I was taken aback by the sight in front of me. Layla was straddling Enzo's waist. What the hell was going on?

I leave for a few hours and she is already whoring around. Well if she wants to be a whore, then that is exactly how she will be treated. How could I have been so wrong about her?

Blinded by anger, I dragged her to my room. I never thought she would have given into me so easily.

But she did. She had allowed me to pleasure her. I was going to fuck her, but I stopped. I don't know why, but I stopped.

Now I'm here sitting in my office sexually frustrated. I knew just who to call to fix this problem.

I ordered one of my men to fetch Taylor, one of my booty calls, knowing that she'll be more than eager to get me off.

"What can I do for you?" she purred seductively.

Swaying her hips a bit too much she walked over to me in a skimpy dress, barely covering anything.

Looking at her now after getting a taste of Layla, I wasn't the least bit turned on by her any more. But I needed this boner to go away and I refused to do it myself when there were women here for exactly that purpose.

Pushing my chair back a little, she came to a stop in front of me before she dropped to her knees and started unbuckling my belt.

Let the fun begin.