The Betrayal: Mafia Vows Four Read online

  THE BETRAYAL

  Mafia Vows Book IV

  SR JONES

  Copyright SR Jones, 2019

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or used without the written permission of the publisher.

  All events depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to places and persons is coincidental.

  Copyright Skye Jones writing as SR Jones 2019.

  Thanks go to my amazing editors, Ansley Blackstock and Silla Webb, and to Silla for all she does!

  Also thanks to the Addicted to Alpha’s girls! And big thanks in particular to:

  Jessica Fraser, Kathi Soniat, Patricia-I Severson, Stephanie Ditmore, and Ana Rita Clemente. You girls are the best! I know I will have forgotten someone, so huge apologies to anyone I missed out.

  Thanks to Betti for the sprints!! You helped me get this done!

  Thanks to Obeithion Design for the absolutely gorgeous cover!

  This book is dedicated to Boo, my gorgeous Golden Retriever who has kept me sane during some hard months recently.

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE PART TWO.

  MORE BOOKS BY SR JONES

  MEET SR JONES

  CHAPTER ONE

  Star

  I must have done something very wrong to be living in this purgatory.

  I was a sinner before I left my people, and maybe that’s why I am being punished now. I have done things in the dark of night, which are strictly forbidden.

  I was told so many times this would be my moment of glory. I was finally given as an Offering so I could serve my community. I told myself I would do it, no matter how scared I might be. The auction came, and I held my head up high, but nothing is how it should be.

  There is no serving for me to do. I’m trapped in limbo with people who scare me half to death.

  Nothing is as I was promised.

  I’ve dreaded, and anticipated, this time of my life in equal measure. I’ve been terrified of what it would mean for me when I was finally sold to a man who would use me for his pleasure. I accepted it as my fate, though, wanted it even, in some ways, because of the honor it brings for my family. My brother hasn’t had the easiest time in our community. He’s small, has bad eyesight, and can be slow to learn. Since I was picked as an Offering, Mom tells me he's had a much easier ride from the other children. His sister was picked for the highest honor bestowed by our community. It elevated us all.

  When I saw my master for the first time, a few weeks ago on the night of the auction, I was so happy. I felt as if the gods had answered my secret, selfish prayers.

  He is a handsome man, the one who bought me, very much so, and surrounded by beautiful people.

  I also sensed from that very first night that he was kind. But then it all fell apart. So quickly it went wrong. He didn’t want me … and still doesn’t. I wonder … did he look into my eyes that first night and see the sins I’ve committed?

  Possibly. Then I made it all worse. I panicked when he tried to take my collar off in the car after he bought me. He shushed me, told me he wanted me, but that he needed to take his time. I believed him, wanted to believe him, needed his words to be true.

  Since then, though, he hasn’t been near me. He might say he wants me, but he hasn’t shown me he does, not at all.

  I think it’s a lie.

  He took me to a house on Corfu after the auction, and then brought me here, to Athens and this huge house, in the city, and yet he avoids me.

  Now, I’m in limbo, so torn and confused it physically hurts. My stomach aches with the stress. This is a great sin, my master rejecting me like this.

  The women keep trying to talk to me, and I am even more terrified by their words. Their soft voices whisper heretical things like rescue and freedom. Their words take me back to a time before, a time in my commune.

  I had been around twelve, maybe thirteen, and in training with the Sisters as an Offering. My peaceful existence was interrupted by the arrival amongst us of Penelope, a young Offering who returned after serving her time. Penelope, or Penny as she demanded we call her, was rude, abrasive, and scary. I tried to avoid her. I was a good girl, and I didn’t want to make waves.

  I’d woken one night with a start to find a warm hand over my mouth. The fear was visceral … I can still feel it now when I think about it.

  “Be quiet, or you’ll wake the whole compound.” Penelope had hissed at me. I’d been relieved it was her, for a moment, then the fear had set in. Penny was … bad.

  We had many rules, and I tried to obey them all. Leader Zeus set the rules, and he picked who and what we worshiped. He told us he had distilled the best bits from many centuries of religious thought. Other senior members of our commune, such as Father Agi, spent many hours buried in books, so the flock gained only the purest spiritual insight.

  “If you scream, I’ll tell them I found you drinking alcohol in here.”

  It was enough of a threat to keep me quiet.

  “I’m leaving, but for some reason, I feel I should help you. God knows why. But, here’s the thing—you’re going to get the shock of your life in a few years. You won’t know what’s hit you when you find yourself outside these walls and sold off. I’m here to help. I brought you these.” She had waved two books at me.

  “These books might help. One is a manual … about the things you’ll be expected to do with your master; about sex basically.”

  Her words shocked me. I knew about sex because I was taught the basics but Offerings only got practical training once they turned eighteen.

  “The other is a book about sex too, but it’s fiction. Read them both. They’ll help. You need to know how to give yourself pleasure, Star. You don’t, and you’re going to go into this like a lamb to the slaughter. If you know how to give yourself pleasure, you can do so before your master uses you. It will make it … easier. Okay?”

  I never said a word, too shocked to speak.

  “It’s not all fucking roses like they keep telling us here. It’s not. What I went through was awful. Years of it, Star. No choice, no ability to say no. It’s horrific. Take my advice. Learn what you can to ease things for yourself at first, but then try to escape, okay?”

  “You mustn’t speak this way, Penny.” I had been genuinely horrified at her words. What if a sister had come along? I would have been in so much trouble. “It’s an honor to be an Offering.”

  “No, it’s not.” She had grabbed my hand. “You’re … they’ve spent years and years telling you stuff so you don’t know any different, but it is not an honor; it’s not okay. What they do here is very wrong.”

  She leaned in and brushed a kiss over my cheek, and it had shocked me to my core, this momentary act of connection, of kindness. “I had a dream that you were the one to end this. I dreamt it, Star. Learn all you can about sex and how to manipulate your master. Learn how to make sure it doesn’t hurt you too much. This will help you survive the first few weeks, but always look for a way to escape, okay? Then go to the authorities. I’ve got to go now.” Her tone had been so final, and sad too, so very, very sad.

/>   “Go where?” I had asked, but there had been no reply. She was gone. Disappeared as if she’d never been there in the first place.

  At the time nothing could have made me believe in Penny’s prophecy, that I would be the one to bring the whole community down. But I did commit sin with those books she left me. I hid them in my mattress and read them eagerly over and over again. I brought them with me, hiding them amongst my meager possessions in the one bag I took with me to the auction.

  Now these new women are whispering similar things to Penny. Asking me to commit the ultimate betrayal. I fear it is because of my sins. They want me to sin more. To tell them about my people, desert my teachings, but I can’t do that. What about my family? What would happen to them? My brother is too vulnerable to be out here in this big, cold world.

  Justina talked to me and told me how Andrius, the scary Russian who lives in the house on Corfu, saved her, and he’s going to do the same for me. I don’t need saving, though.

  No one forced me to be an Offering. I went into this willingly, damn it.

  Now? Now I want to run away because these people are asking far too many questions about my commune. I tell them that I’m not allowed to talk about it, and still they ask. After my time here, I will return home, a heroine to my community. I will become a Sister, an exalted role, and these horrible people are going to mess it all up for me.

  I see the way they all look at me. With pity. The women especially. I don’t need pity. They can go to hades.

  Most of the time, I sit in my room, and I read. I love Charles Dickens. The way he describes everything with so much detail transports me to a different place and time. I can almost feel the soggy British air on my skin and smell the poverty he portrays.

  When I venture out of my room, it is to eat or take some exercise. There are places in the garden you cannot see from the house, and I go to these places often to sit and read, or simply lie and soak up the sun. I go there to pray too. At night, I sit in my room and hear the opening and closing of doors and footsteps as people move all around the house.

  It’s a strange set-up. So many people in this house, and then even more men in the house beyond. I avoid that side of the property. They are cold men who carry weapons.

  Within the house, I mostly speak to Stella, but she doesn’t get it. She’s in love. She isn’t a slave as I first thought the night when I met her, but instead is the girlfriend of the handsome one, Alesso. A man with a face Eros would have been proud of.

  Then there’s Maya and Damen. I don’t know them as well. Damen is a scary man to behold, huge, with dark eyes that see right into your soul and a sharp jaw. Maya is glamorous and confident. The sort of woman I see in the programs they call soap operas.

  Then there is Markos. He’s handsome too, maybe not as obviously so as Alesso, but Markos has something Alesso does not. Depth.

  Markos is spiritual. I know he is. I see it in his eyes. I sense it when he’s spinning his beads, and I feel it when I am near him.

  He’s spiritual, and he needs to realize that taking me would not be a sin, but the pinnacle of all I’ve been trained for. If he took me then he might be persuaded not to go and tear up my community. If he took me, I could beg him to keep me for a year or so and then send me home. It would be a shamefully short time, but I would still become a Sister.

  Markos could help me. If I got him on my side, and got him to like me, he could help me. I could please him too, if only he’d let me try. I have been taught many things: how to flatter a man, to flirt, to give a sensual massage. I get an odd little flutter in my belly as I think about giving Brother Aristo an intimate massage as part of my training. I could do the same for Markos. It hadn’t been horrible, Brother Aristo is handsome, not old and wrinkly like Brother Apollo. I had found it quite … erotic. I think I’d find it even more so with Markos. If only he’d let me be what I was made to be.

  Instead, I am nothing. I am bare. No collar on my neck. And I am lost. No place to truly call home.

  It’s why I am beginning to think my only recourse is to escape this place and warn my people.

  My stomach rumbles, and I realize I’m hungry. The men have all gone out, or so I heard Maya say, and the women are out by the pool if the noises coming from outside are anything to go by. It means I can have the kitchen to myself.

  I creep out of my room, checking there is no one around, and tiptoe down the corridor toward the stairs. I pause, though, and stare at the door to Markos’ room. I know it is wrong, but I make my way there and knock softly, just in case he didn’t go out. When I get no reply, I turn the handle, half expecting it to be locked. It isn’t.

  Heart pounding, I open the door and enter the room.

  It’s basic. Almost puritan. Like the rooms at the training center at the commune. We have split living arrangements. The Sisters and Brothers live at the main center, along with any Offerings being trained. The rest of our community live in family dwellings spread around the land. The family dwellings are bright inside, full of colorful artifacts and gifts to the gods. The center is sparse and quiet. A place for learning and reflection.

  I miss it. Miss the peace and solitude. I miss Brother Aristo and his hugs and warm arms, and Sister Athena and her kind smile. Here, I get no affection from anyone.

  They say an Offering is only there to serve, but Sister Athena herself fell in love with her master, and she is exalted in our community, so it cannot be such a bad thing to desire one’s master the way I desire Markos. Can it?

  I wander over to his dresser and let my fingers trail over his things. There isn’t much. One bottle of aftershave, some change in a bowl, a spare set of those prayer beads he uses so much, and a book.

  I spray a touch of the aftershave on my wrist and sniff. It smells like him, and it gives me a warm, heated feeling in my stomach. He’s got strong arms. Big arms, and I bet they’d be even nicer wrapped around me in a hug than Brother Aristo’s were.

  Markos is leanly muscular. He looks like an athlete, like the Olympians of old, I imagine. He’s got really nice hands. It’s an odd thing to notice, but I have noticed. Maybe because he swings his beads around a lot, and so it draws one’s attention to his hands, but they are beautiful. Strong and veined, with long graceful fingers. They are tanned, and his fingers have a few callouses on the inside. I imagine them touching me. Would they feel rough against my skin?

  Dragging myself out of my strange thoughts, I meander around the room.

  By the bed is a glass of water. The bed is neat, made well. I go to it, and not knowing what possesses me, I pick up the pillow and inhale. It smells of him. Of Markos. Not of his aftershave but him.

  Some deep well of loneliness hits me hard. I am totally alone. I am deserted by the man who should be looking after me.

  The man who should be my new master.

  The man with muddy eyes that can change color from brown to deepest, darkest green/blue depending on the light. The man who has dark hair, and sharp features, but with a mouth that softens them and eyes that say so much.

  The one called Alesso is more classically handsome for sure, but he’s dead inside. I see it in his eyes. They look warm and friendly at first glance, but it’s a façade. Look again and you see the emptiness of his soul. The only time he holds any life is when he looks at Stella. The rest of the time he’s … not there.

  Markos is present and feels deeply, but I think he’s in pain. I don’t know why I think this, except that he’s closed off, remote. And truthfully? He reminds me of the Brothers back home with his quiet ways and his prayers. Although he prays to one god and we pray to many.

  I lie on the bed, knowing it is wrong, and smush my face into his pillow smelling him on it, wondering if he had taken me as his if I’d have been sleeping in here with him, or would I have been given my own room?

  Would he want me to do the thing I did to Brother Aristo? The massage? To stroke him all over, and caress him until he came, spurting for me the way the Brother did? I get the
familiar ache between my legs at the thought. The ache I get when I read the books I shouldn’t read, and when I watch Markos sneakily from under my lashes.

  It seems I wouldn’t mind Master Markos taking me at all. Of course, in my mind he is gentle, and he kisses me the way the man kissed the woman in the book, the one about sex with the drawings.

  Knowing I shouldn’t do it. Not here, on his bed, I slip my hands between my legs, and my fingers begin to stroke.

  I’m worried there’s something really wrong with me, that I’m a sinner with no hope of redemption because I’m almost addicted to doing this terrible sin these days. Only the other day, I did it in the garden.

  This is worse, though. Here in my master’s private space.

  A small moan escapes me and then a deeper noise, a cross between a groan and a cough.

  I freeze.

  The deeper noise did not come from me.

  “What the fuck?”

  The harsh words have me whipping my head around to see Markos and the huge, scary one, Damen, standing in the doorway.

  Damen clears his throat, shakes his head, looks from me to Markos, and says, “Jesus. Good luck, friend.”

  Then he walks off.

  Markos stares at me, and his muddy eyes are dark as the night. I don’t know if from anger or something else entirely.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Markos

  This is the second time in a matter of days I’ve found Star playing with herself. This time, though, she’s doing it in my room.

  It was strange enough when I saw her doing it in our garden, and I slipped away, disturbed but also turned on. This though is another level, and I don’t know what I’m feeling.

  So many things.

  There’s arousal for sure. I want nothing more than to pull her dress up and give her the relief she so clearly needs, with my tongue.

  I’m angry too. How dare she come in here and violate my space this way? I’m very private. Has she been looking through my things?

  Most of all, though, I’m concerned and confused. Yep, very confused. What the fuck is this? What was she thinking?