Alfonso did not say another word to the crowd as he strode to the head of the long table, stepping with an effortless authority that made every hardened captain instinctively shift their posture.
He took his place in the massive, high-backed leather chair that sat like a throne at the end of the room.
Joanne, her cheeks burning with a suffocating humiliation under the collective weight of dozens of staring eyes, looked for any escape.
Keeping her arms crossed tightly over her chest to minimize the visibility of her translucent black nightgown, she began to walk down the length of the table, aiming for an empty chair near the very far end—as far away from the dangerous Mafia king as the room would allow.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Alfonso’s deep voice cut through the low clinking of glasses.
He didn’t even look up as he picked up his silver fork, but his icy gaze locked onto the burly frontline soldier currently seated directly to his right.
“Stand up,” Alfonso ordered flatly.
“Get the hell away from this chair and let my beautiful nurse sit exactly where she belongs.”
The soldier scrambled out of his seat without a second thought, bowing his head as he stepped aside.
Alfonso’s dark eyes snapped over to Joanne, a cold, dominant command hardening his jaw.
“Get over here and sit next to me, Joanne. In case I happen to want your medical nursing or your attention at any given second, you need to be in the right place where you can easily reach me. Move.”
Knowing the brutal consequences of disobeying him in front of his entire syndicate, Joanne forced her trembling legs to turn around.
She walked back up the long table, her feet cold against the polished floor, and quietly slid into the chair right beside his massive frame.
She kept her knees pressed tightly together, one hand constantly clutching the fabric at her cleavage to hide her breasts from the rest of the table.
On the massive, theater-sized projector screen dominating the far wall of the hall, an action movie was playing, the digital light casting flickering shadows over the luxury plates and expensive crystal bottles.
Yet, nobody in the room seemed to pay any attention to it.
The air remained strictly bound to the dark, cutthroat reality of the underworld.
Alfonso leaned back in his chair, his gaze raking over his captains as he addressed the table. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Regarding the ambush last night,” he began, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that commanded immediate silence.
“That fool Zuroth managed to get a lucky scratch on my ear. He’s a coward, and he already expected me to roll up to his gates with my entire artillery unit the second the sun went down. He thinks he knows my timeline.”
Alfonso paused, a slow, sinister smirk touching his lips as he poured a shot of dark liquor.
“But I am going to surprise that bastard. We aren’t going now. We will handle our regular daytime legal operations and logistics first, and then I will visit his manor later in the evening after work. I’ll only be taking a few men with me. Griffin, ensure the vehicles are prepped.”
“Already on it, Boss,” Griffin replied smoothly from across the table, cutting into a thick piece of steak.
Alfonso’s eyes then drifted down toward the lower end of the banquet table, where Bob and the other injured soldiers Dorea had stitched up hours ago were sitting, their shoulders and torsos bandaged but stable.
“You men look steady,” Alfonso noted, his expression unreadable.
“Take more time recuperating in the wing. I don’t need half-healed soldiers slowing down my operations.”
He flicked his gaze toward Dorea, who was sitting further down with her arms crossed, her expression still tight with lingering resentment.
“Dorea, you did a great job patching them up so quickly. Your payment will be wired by morning.”
While the rest of the family continued their dark discussions, talking about their usual brutal business, territorial borders, and weapons shipments, Joanne did everything in her power to completely dissociate from the conversation.
She kept herself busy, keeping her eyes glued to the giant screen as if the movie were the most fascinating thing in the world, desperate to ignore the intense, suffocating environment around her.
She focused on eating the food from her plate, but every time her portion dwindled, Alfonso’s hand would casually reach out, picking up silver tongs to add more roasted meats and rich delicacies directly to her pile.
Every single time he filled her plate, a fresh wave of jealous glances shot across the table from the beautiful female servants, their eyes glaring at the high-class treatment the new nurse was receiving.
Except for Sophie.
Surprisingly, the boss’ favorite toy didn’t look angry; she sat a few seats down, watching Joanne’s nervous, elegant movements with a quiet, strange look of genuine admiration.
Joanne ignored all of it. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
She ignored the heavy, caressing glances from the men and the toxic stares from the women, keeping her hand locked over her nightdress, praying for the breakfast to end.
Suddenly, the action movie on the big screen shifted tracking completely.
The scene cut abruptly from a high-speed car chase into a dimly lit, hyper-sensual bedroom.
On the massive display, a man and a woman slammed against a wall, their clothes tearing away as they dove into an incredibly aggressive, raw, and explicitly loud sex scene.
The audio system of the palace was so state-of-the-art that the sounds of their passion filled every corner of the banquet hall with a deafening clarity.
“Ah… Ahhh! Yes… God, fuck me harder, right there… Mmmph, ahnn!” the woman on the screen cried out, her loud, breathless moans echoing through the speakers as her back arched against the bedsheets.
The sudden noise was so loud and intensely graphic that the casual conversations around the dining table ground to an immediate halt.
Hardened soldiers, captains, and servants alike all slowly turned their heads around to watch the intense, writhing figures on the projector screen, an expectant, heavy tension instantly settling over the room.
Joanne felt her entire face burn with an unbearable wave of mortification.
The graphic sounds of the woman’s moaning mirrored the exact, feral sounds she had been forced to make beneath Alfonso hours ago, and the discomfort made her stomach twist into painful knots.
Unable to take the psychological pressure for another second, she placed her fork down, her thighs trembling as she prepared to push her chair back, stand up, and make a polite excuse to flee the scene and run back to her bedroom.
But before her knees could even straighten, Alfonso’s hand shot out beneath the edge of the table.
His palm clamped down onto her bare, bruised thigh, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh with a vice-like grip that instantly pinned her lower body flat against the seat, completely crushing any hope of escape.
He leaned close, his sharp jawline brushing against her burning cheek as his deep whisper vibrated directly into her ear, his final words delivering a chilling, dominant thrill:
“Where do you think you’re going, Joanne? Are you seriously trying to run away now when the movie is getting exciting?”