Sold: Dark Mafia Romance

“Thank you for the invitation,” I say in a low tone.

“What is an auction without the head of the Italian Mafia, right?” he replies, chuckling.

I just nod and slowly begin to twirl the tumbler on the table while I lock eyes with him.

Not able to hold my gaze, Igor glances around the room, then says, “Why don’t you join me at my table?”

Hopefully, it means we can talk business. Rising to my feet, I follow Igor to one of the tables up front and sit in the seat he gestures at. Once we’re as comfortable as we can be, seeing that most of the men here are enemies in some way, Igor orders another round of drinks.

“Na zdoróv'je,” Igor toasts, clinking his glass against mine.

“Na zdoróv'je,” I reply, even though I can only guess what it means, while our eyes lock as we each take a sip.

Setting his tumbler of vodka down, the Russian says, “We’ll talk business after the auction. There’s another group of girls coming up, and you might see something you like.”

Rolling my shoulders, I clench my jaw with annoyance. The fucker is living on borrowed time. One after the other, girls are led out onto the stage, and with zero interest, I glance at each of them until my eyes lock on one.

Holy fuck.

It’s her.

Surprise ripples over me, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. The girl I was starting to think was nothing but a dream.

How the hell did she end up in Igor’s hands? Did he kidnap her from the club? Probably.

I take a slow breath, schooling my face so none of the surprise at the sight of the girl who got my attention the other night shows.

My gaze rakes over her, drinking in every inch of her exposed creamy skin, and I immediately begin to harden.

Fuck, she’s breathtaking.

I hear a rumbling of whispers, and looking around me, I’m not happy to see most of the men are staring at her.

Like hell, if I’ll let one of these fuckers get their grubby paws on her.

Harper

Minutes ago

Some time passes, and the voices of several different men come from behind the door. More time passes. Then another agonized squeal. My heart sinks into my shoes.

The door opens again. It’s the same guy, and now he’s grabbed Melanie. She gives me a panicked look right before the door slams in my face.

Will I ever see her again?

Even though I don’t know her, and we only met briefly, it’s as if we’re forever connected at this moment by trauma.

The more time passes, the longer it feels, and my breathing becomes erratic. How much longer until they come for me? What lies beyond that door? I’ll find out soon, but the waiting is killing me … and the gun shoved against my back really doesn’t help ease the nerves.

“Your turn,” the guard behind me says, laughing to himself. “Be on your best behavior, now.” He leans in to lick my neck, and it makes me want to puke. “Or you’ll have to answer to me.”

“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He laughs again. “Believe me, far worse men than me are waiting for you out there, love.”

I wish I could slap the smirk that follows right off his face.

The door opens once again, and a fresh breeze wafting past me makes me suck in a breath.

“C’mon,” the bastard says as he grabs my arm and tugs me out of the hallway and into the light. It’s so bright that it blinds me for a moment, pointed straight at me.

But one thing’s for sure … I’m on a fucking stage.

What the hell is going on?

The guy pushes me forward, forcing me to walk to the middle. A few cruel laughs emanate from the room beyond the stage. Once the light dims, the men finally become visible. There are a dozen of them, maybe more, all in fancy suits, drinking expensive liquor, smoking thick cigars.

And they’re all watching me.

One of them raises a paddle. “Fifty,” he calls out.

This … this is an auction for me.

I’m horrified. Completely and utterly horrified this is happening. That these men are willing to buy girls like they’re objects, like we’re less than human. How dare they? How fucking dare they do this to us, to me?

Who the fuck bought Melanie? And that other girl? Where did they take them? What did they do to them?

God, this can’t be happening!

My blood is boiling, but I can’t fucking let them see the horror I feel. If they know, it’ll only fuel their desire. Their filthy eyes show that longing for a forbidden girl. One they can’t have … but take anyway, because money can buy you everything.

But I learned long ago never to show a man you’re angry or sad. It only gives them ammo to hurt you.