The Mafia Boss Secret Desire

Chapter 8

Mindy

So much for recharging my batteries over the weekend.

I accidentally sent nudes to my boss, my relationship ended, and my mom is in hospital. Not exactly the relaxing weekend I’d planned. Every inch of my body feels heavy and worn out. I’d applied some makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes, but it didn’t change how I felt. I still feel like crap. What would help is a hit of caffeine, injected straight into my brain. As soon as I arrive at work, I'll head straight to the kitchen and make the strongest coffee possible to help me survive the day. And maybe another one before I meet Maron Korolev first time after sending him the damn nudes.

Relax, Mindy.

He gets thousands of emails, every day.

It probably went to a spam folder, anyway.

I force the image of Maron Korolev out of my mind and take a sharp turn, navigating the morning traffic. But as soon as I stop at the next traffic light, another thought invades.

My mother.

I’m worried sick about her. After I visited her at the hospital, I spoke to Dr. Walker, and he sounded optimistic; there are viable treatments for mom's cancer. That's the good news. The bad news is that these treatments are only partly covered by her insurance. And they’re not cheap. This would be a great time for my sister to chip in, but unfortunately, she’s too busy hating me and battling her addiction.

I did my mental calculations over the weekend, and I came to the conclusion that with careful budgeting and some sacrifices, I can just about squeeze the money out of my savings, and my paychecks at Global Media. If mom responds well to the first treatment, the entire therapy will be around fifty-five grand. Which is a lot of money for me. Right now, it seems like a pretty daunting task, but I have to do it. It’s the least my mom deserves.

But right now, my main problem is still the accidental email I sent to my boss on Friday. Scratch that. My main problem is the photos and the video attached to that email. I still haven’t heard anything back, and I’m dreading the moment when I have to face the music. Who knows, I may not even be an employee at Global Media anymore. If I know Maron Korolev well, he just told HR about the incident and had my access card deactivated, without communicating anything to me. But if that’s the case, at least HR would have told me something. Not to mention that Betty works at HR. She would be the first to tell me if I was fired.

“Maybe Maron Korolev never saw that email, after all,” I try to soothe myself, once again. “Maybe it did get lost in the thousands of emails he receives every day.”

I just hope I’m right and the email got lost in the ether or was marked as spam. I cannot be fired. Not right now. With my mom being in hospital, I need Global Media like a flower needs water. There’s no way I can pay for her treatment without a stable job.

"What the hell are you doing, you fool?" I mutter to myself in disbelief as a reckless driver cuts me off at the traffic lights, briefly pulling my attention away from my treacherous thoughts.

Then, there’s Alexis. I could ask her to help me pay for our mom’s treatment, she is my sister after all. But I know it would only lead to even more conflict, and I don’t want to risk that. Her own struggles make relying on her very risky. I can't afford to add any more instability to an already chaotic situation.

Alexis… my once bright and beautiful sister has been battling addiction to painkillers for three years, nine months, and five days. That’s how long it has been. That's when that fatal car accident happened.

There were three of us in that car.

Alexis, my twin sister, Emily, and me.

I was driving.

The events that followed have faded into a blur now. My mind has either erased or buried them deep in the recesses of my consciousness, most likely because they are too painful to remember. I can only recall fragments. The sound of screeching tires, the flashing of red lights, the feeling of rain hitting my face as I stumbled out of the car and called for help. My memory has erased most of the details.

But one thing that will forever remain etched in my mind: the moment my twin sister, Emily, died. I was there. I was there as she heaved her final breaths, watching her as her soul left her body, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless shell. The memory of her death will haunt me until my last breath. No amount of therapy could erase the image from my mind. Her cries of pain still ring in my ears as she calls my name for my help.

Mindy was the last word she uttered before she died.

My beautiful twin sister. Through our close bond, I could feel her suffering and agony, tearing at my heart and breaking me apart.

We were all taken to hospital. Emily died. Miraculously, I got away with a few scratches. Our mother was so traumatized by the loss of Emily, that I'm pretty sure it’s one of the reasons why she has cancer. If not the only reason. As for Alexis, she was prescribed too many painkillers to cope with her injuries and now she can't function without them.

“It’s all your fault,” Alexis would say. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is all my fault.

Either way, I have my own punishment. I carry the weight of Emily's death, Alexis' addiction, and my mother's illness for the rest of my life. And perhaps my infertility is another form of punishment for my past actions. It's as if Mother Nature is sending a message that someone like me should not reproduce. And maybe it’s for the best.

The traffic slows down and my thoughts wander to Emily again. There are no words to describe how much I miss her. No. I don't just miss her. With her gone, a part of me has been ripped away. The void she left behind is a gaping wound that refuses to heal.

People often say that twins share an unbreakable bond, that they're two halves of a single soul. But I think it’s more than that. I think it is something most people can’t truly comprehend. The connection between twins runs deeper than words can describe. It's something that transcends the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

Like Emily and I. We were that set of twins who communicated in a language of our own, a secret code that only we could understand. We really were one.

That’s enough, Mindy.

These dark thoughts are not helping right now.

All movement on the road has ceased. The cars in front of me are barely inching forward before coming to a complete halt. We are at a standstill. The street is packed with vehicles, tightly lined up, stretching as far as I can see.

Dammit!

At least my mind is no longer consumed by thoughts of Emily, but rather by a frustration at this unexpected delay. I grab my work phone and dial reception to let someone in the office know that I'll be late for the meeting and that they can start without me.

“The number you have dialed is not recognized.”

I frown. I try a few other numbers but the answer is the same. “The number you have dialed is not recognized.”

What the hell?

Maintenance of the company phone system?

On a Monday morning?

The cars in front of me finally start moving again, and I can't make any more phone calls. After having spent more than an hour in rush hour traffic, I finally arrive at the building of Global Media.

I step out of my car and quickly stride towards the entrance of the office building, my heels clicking against the pavement. I take out my access card and swipe it against the sensor.

It doesn't work.

My brow furrows in confusion; this has never happened before. Maybe it's just a glitch, so I try again. Still no luck. I scrutinize the card- maybe the chip is damaged? I give it one more swipe, hoping for a beep or any sign of life, but the card remains unresponsive. It can't be dead, can it? I try once more hoping for a different result - no luck.

I scan the expansive lounge, expecting to find some people, but all I see is an eerie stillness. Not a single soul. Chairs sit vacant, and the silence is only punctuated by the faint hum of the air conditioning.

What the hell?

I’m just about to fish out my phone again and try another number when I hear a noise coming from the direction of the elevators. I turn to see the doors opening and I see the receptionist lady stepping out.

Finally!

A real human being who works at Global Media!

"Clara," I tell her. "Good morning. Could you please check my card? It doesn't seem to be working. Looks like there's a glitch in the system."

"Oh, sure," she says, smiling. She fiddles with it under the counter, her face somewhat cloudy. "Let me try again," she mumbles. Then she looks up. "Ms. Williams," she says, "I'm afraid your card has been blocked."

I stare at her dumbly. "Blocked? Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so," she repeats. "Have you checked your emails? Usually, when this happens, they send out an email with instructions about what to do next."

Of course I didn't check my emails. Mom's cancer and the breakup with Maurice consumed my thoughts all weekend. Not to mention that I was too afraid to see if someone responded to my photos.

I stop and freeze. The photos. The damn nudes I accidentally sent to my jerk boss instead of my boyfriend who broke up with me since. Probably my stupidest mistake ever. Maybe that has something to do with this.

Oh, dear God.

Suddenly I'm grateful that the building is empty and everyone from management is stuck in a boring meeting, because from now on, anyone I come across here, has probably seen my breasts. And my p***y. My entire naked body. And heard me cry as I shake from my own orgasm.

Oh, Mother Earth, why won’t you open up and swallow me?

I quickly make my way outside and find a bench to sit on. I pull out my phone and check my emails. And there it is. To my complete lack of surprise, the dreaded message appears.

Subject: Termination of Work Contract

Dear Ms. Williams,

We regret to inform you that your employment contract with Global Media has been terminated with immediate effect. The reason for this decision is being kept confidential at this time.

We understand that this news may come as a surprise, and we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. Please know that this decision was made after careful consideration of various factors.

We are grateful for the contributions you have made during your time with our company, and we wish you all the best in your future endeavors.

Sincerely,

Mike Collins

Head of Human Resources Dept.

Global Media Ltd.

That's it.

Fired.

Unemployed.

All because of a bunch of stupid photos sent to the wrong address.

If my life was not over, it is now.

I'm positive it's Maron Korolev, who had me fired. “Mike,” he said to the head of Human Resources, “get the b***h outta my company. We don't do nudes here.”

I stumble to my car and collapse into the driver's seat, gasping for air. My chest heaves with violent sobs as I bury my face in my trembling hands, allowing my tears to stream down my cheeks and soak into my skin.

I’m utterly, spectacularly screwed.