Mafia Daddy's Captivating Good Girl

*Layla*

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. It took me a moment to realize that the loud banging wasn't part of a dream but was coming from my apartment door. I glanced at the clock: 10:37 PM. Fear crept up my spine as I slipped out of bed, my feet silent on the worn carpet.

I had barely taken a step when the door burst open, the lock splintering under the force. Two large men strode into my bedroom, their expressions grim and determined.

"Layla Jennings?" the taller one barked.

Icy fear made me tremble as I nodded, my voice frozen in my throat.

"You're coming with us."

They grabbed me, their hands rough on my arms, and dragged me out of the apartment. I struggled, panic rising in my chest, but they were too strong. They hustled me into a waiting car, the leather seats cold against my bare legs.

As we sped through the night, I tried to make sense of what was happening. But I couldn't. It was like I'd stepped into a nightmare.

We arrived at a high-rise, the men practically carrying me into an elevator. When the doors opened, we stepped into a penthouse that oozed wealth and power. But my eyes were drawn to the man behind the desk. Marco Vasquez. My mother's boyfriend.

Even though Marco Vasquez was a handsome man with dark, expressive eyes, I never liked or trusted him. Everything about him exuded sinister danger. 

I had observed on more than one occasion how his smooth, cultured voice and magnetic charisma easily drew people to him, including my mother, even as they must have sensed the ruthless and cunning nature lurking beneath his charming exterior.

"Layla Jennings," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Thank you for joining us."

"Where's my mother?" I asked, my voice shaking.

As if on cue, the door burst open. Two more men dragged my mother in. Her face was bruised, her lip split. I felt sick.

In the dim light of Marco's office, my mother looked like a shadow of herself. Her once vibrant auburn hair was now dull and lifeless, pulled back into a haphazard bun that did little to hide the dark circles under her eyes. 

Her face, which had always been so expressive and full of life, was now gaunt and pale, with a haunted look that spoke of the horrors she must have endured before I was brought in.

"Layla!" she cried, struggling against her captors. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Marco silenced her with a look. "Your mother thought she could steal from me," he said, his tone conversational. "She thought she could take what was mine without consequence."

He stood and circled the desk, coming to stand in front of me. I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"I'm a businessman, Layla," he continued. "I don't like it when people try to cheat me."

"Please," my mother begged. "Leave Layla out of this. She has nothing to do with it."

Marco's eyes cut to her, cold and hard. "On the contrary, Layla is very much a part of this now. She's going to help me recoup what you've cost me."

He turned back to me, his smile sharp. "You see, I need information. Information about Dante DeLuca and his operations. And you're going to get that information for me."

I shook my head. "I don't know Dante DeLuca. I don't know anything about his operations."

"But you know his daughter, Sophia," Marco pointed out. 

“We went to the same college, but I don’t know her.”

"You're going to get to know her. You're going to infiltrate her world. And you're going to report back to me with information."

"And if I don't?" I whispered.

His smile widened. "Then your mother will pay the price."

My mother sobbed, her body sagging. I felt despair wash over me. I was trapped.

"I'll do it," I finally said. "I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt my mother."

Satisfaction gleamed in Marco's eyes. "Anton will be your handler," he said, gesturing to one of the men. 

Anton was a striking figure, with blond hair cropped short and a presence that commanded attention. He stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular frame. His face was all sharp angles and hard lines, with high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. His eyes were a piercing blue, the color of a frozen lake, and just as cold.

"Anton will make sure you stay on task." And with that, he dismissed me. The last thing I heard as I was led away was my mother's cries.

I was taken to another room in the penthouse. A team of stylists awaited me, their faces impassive as they transformed me. When they were done, I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. My dark hair was swept up elegantly, my eyes accented with smoky shadow. The midnight blue dress they'd put me in hugged my curves like a second skin.

I looked like I belonged in the world I was about to enter. But inside, I felt hollow.

Anton appeared looking me over from head to toe, his expression cold and unreadable. "It's time." 

I followed him out to the car, my heart heavy. As we drove, I stared out the window, the city blurring past. I thought bitterly of my father and the mafia secrets he'd taken to his grave. Secrets that landed my mother with a man like Marco and must have somehow led me here.

The car pulled up to a glittering event space. The air was thick with the scent of wealth and privilege. Anton helped me out, his hand heavy on my back.

I walked into the ballroom, my eyes wide with wonder. I had never been to a charity event as grand as this. The room was filled with the city's elite, all dressed to the nines and dripping with jewels. I felt out of place in my simple dress, but I reminded myself that I was here for a reason.

I spotted Sophia across the room, looking annoyed and upset as she spoke with a group of people. 

The last time I'd even seen Sophia was on graduation day, when she had stumbled drunkenly across the stage, barely able to keep her balance. It was a far cry from the polished, professional woman who now stood before me. 

Back in college, Sophia had been the epitome of the rich, popular girl—always impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, jetting off on luxurious vacations that the rest of us could only dream of.

I, on the other hand, had barely been able to afford tuition, relying on the money my late father had set aside in his will. The designer clothes and exotic spring break trips were completely out of reach.

We had run in very different circles back then, Sophia always surrounded by her gaggle of wealthy friends and the ever-present paparazzi, eager to snap photos of the famous Dante DeLuca's party girl daughter. I doubted she even knew my name. But now, here we were, face to face in the glittering ballroom, and I needed her to remember me.

I took a deep breath and approached her, a smile on my face.

"Sophia, hi! It's Layla, from college. We had a few classes together, remember?" I said, hoping my voice sounded confident.

Sophia turned to me, her expression one of barely concealed irritation. "Oh, yes, Layla. I'm sorry, it's just been a frustrating night. Our guest speaker is apparently too drunk to even stand up straight, let alone give a coherent speech."

I nodded sympathetically. "I understand. That must be incredibly disappointing."

Sophia sighed, her eyes scanning the room. "It is. I don't know what we're going to do now."

I followed her gaze, my eyes landing on a face I recognized from. "Actually, I might have a solution. See that man over there? That's Dr. James Thompson. He's a renowned philanthropist and an incredible speaker. I've seen him at a few events before. Maybe we could ask him to fill in?"

Sophia's eyebrows raised, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Do you think he would do it?"

I smiled. "It's worth a shot. I can go talk to him, if you'd like."

Sophia nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Please do. And Layla? Thank you."

I made my way across the room, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn't used to rubbing elbows with such influential people, but I knew I had to play the part.

I had seen Dr. Thompson speak when I volunteered to help at last year's gala for the Children's Hope Foundation, a charity dedicated to providing education and healthcare to underprivileged kids. His passionate words about the importance of giving back had stayed with me.

I hoped he was as kind and generous as he seemed.

"Dr. Thompson?" I said, extending my hand. "I'm Layla Jennings. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."

Dr. Thompson smiled warmly, shaking my hand. "Of course, Ms. Jennings. What can I do for you?"

I explained the situation with the guest speaker, watching as Dr. Thompson's expression shifted from concern to determination.

"Say no more," he interrupted, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'd be honored to fill in."

As I led Dr. Thompson back to Sophia, I could feel Anton's eyes on me. He was always watching, always assessing. I knew I couldn't let my guard down, not even for a moment. My mother’s life–and maybe my own–depended on it.

Sophia's relief was palpable as I introduced her to Dr. Thompson. She thanked me profusely, her earlier annoyance forgotten.

As Dr. Thompson took the stage, Sophia turned to me, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Layla, I can't thank you enough. You really saved the night."

I smiled, shaking my head. "It was nothing. I'm just glad I could help."

Sophia sighed, her gaze drifting towards the stage. "You know, these charity events were my father's idea. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up tonight."

I felt a pang of disappointment. I had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Dante DeLuca, to start putting the pieces of my mission together. But I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on Sophia. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. It must be difficult, planning these events on your own."

Sophia shrugged, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "It is what it is. But I appreciate your help tonight, Layla. Truly."

I reached into my clutch for a paper and pen to write my number down. "If you ever need anything else, please don't hesitate to reach out. I'd be more than happy to help in any way I can."

Sophia took the card, a genuine smile on her face. "Thank you. I'll definitely keep that in mind."

When she walked away, I took a deep breath, not liking the idea of having to tell Marco that Dante wasn't at the event and I had no useful information for him. I spotted Anton in a corner glaring at me and a shiver ran down my spine reminding me that I was in a life or death situation.

I slipped away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner in the hallway to try and think of what else I could do to get my mother and me away from Marco completely. I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear dripped from my cheek and I wiped it away.

That's when he appeared. A tall, handsome man with dark hair graying at the temples and piercing dark brown eyes. He towered in front of me and I was at loss for words, momentarily forgetting everything that was going horribly wrong in my life. 

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.