The Mafia Boss Submissive

Italy. Sicily...

The security opened the back gate, and my driver drove in.

As soon as the car pulled into the compound, I jumped out and headed straight for the trap door, hidden from anyone living in the mansion.

I swung it open and climbed down the stairs that led to the secret underground bedroom, my very own hideaway.

I usually bring home some ladies to the bedroom to f**k them, but each one of them always ended up escaping in the middle of the fun, and I always think I haven't gotten the right person who will fully submit themselves to me. Luckily for this bedroom, my religious parents never knew I was up to something like this.

Well, I blame my psychological disorder, which always pushes me to do these things.

I stopped looking around the room, which I named the "Room of Pleasure". The acronym is ROP.

I climbed up the stairs and headed to my regular bedroom. I pressed the secret button hidden in the bookshelf, which caused it to open, and I entered my regular bedroom, pulling the bookshelf that separated my original bedroom and the room of pleasure closed behind me.

As I walked in, a knock came from the door.

"Is that you, Ginevra?" I called timidly.

"È mattina, Sullivan." My blonde-haired younger sister Gin spoke ' It's morning' to me in Italian walking into my room, and I raised my eyes at her as if I had just woken up.

Little did my family know that I didn't sleep at home overnight. Every evening at seven o'clock, I say goodnight to my family and retreat to my bedroom, where I secretly sneak out and go to my workplace. The details of my work are best kept secret.

"Good morning, Gin," I called, walking to the bathroom.

"You should come downstairs and have your breakfast before the doctor comes," Gin spoke English this time.

"Alrighty, I will be down in a bit," I said, entering the bathroom, and I could hear her walking out of the room.

When I finished bathing, I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt with my half-dried black hair falling to my face.

I slipped into my slippers and walked out of my room to the hallway before climbing down the well-furnished wooden staircase.

As I climbed on the last stairs and stepped on the concrete tiled floor, my mother noticed me, and she walked to me, who was looking naive, boyishly... Just name it. I'm always on this kind of expression because of my health.

"Buongiorno." My mother greeted me in Italian, hugging me.

"Good morning." I returned to my autistic behavior, and she pulled out of the hug.

"Come, let's get you breakfast before your doctor's appointment." She said, walking me to the dining, and I was limping, or, should I say, staggering, till we reached the dining.

"How was your night? Sullivan?" Dad asked as my mother helped me to sit.

"Great." This time, I was