The room hummed with tension as the mafia guests settled into their leather armchairs, cigars smoldering between fingers heavy with gold rings. Dim chandeliers cast shadows over the opulent space, walls lined with dark wood panels that absorbed the low murmurs of conversation. At the center stood the girls, lined up like offerings on a polished marble floor. Isla, Belle, and the others shifted slightly, their thin dresses clinging to sweat-dampened skin in the warm air.
Oriana, seated beside her brother Luciano, clapped her hands once, sharp and commanding. 'All of you, stand up straight and strip,' she announced, her voice slicing through the haze. 'Reveal your breasts. Let these men see what we offer.'
