Sold: Dark Mafia Romance

I shiver at the thought. I don’t know whether it was Marcello or someone else who dressed me, but something tells me they wouldn’t care if I told them it’s wrong.

My mind goes over what happened again. Images of the auction and those men staring at me flash in front of my eyes. Marcello buying me, coming to see me in that bunker … only to make me come in the most depraved way possible.

I close my eyes and force myself to stop thinking about how badly I’ve sinned. Regrets can’t save me from this … this … monster.

Because that’s what Marcello is—no matter how he spins this to pin it on me and make it all my fault. He bought a human like it was no big deal, and he won’t get away with it. Not without me putting up a fight, anyway. It’s what Andrea would want … and I know deep down she’s already wondering where I am. If I’m dead.

God, I hope the police didn’t tell her. What if she doesn’t survive the news? She could die from heartache. I can’t lose my adoptive mother, too.

I sigh to let the fear loose and get up. I don’t know anything right now, so I need to find out where I am and how to escape.

Suddenly, the door opens, and I immediately snatch the nearest object in my reach, a golden candleholder, expecting Marcello to burst in and claim me again. My heart jumps at the thought.

I march at the door, holding the candleholder up high, ready to hit the person coming in.

However, the face of a kindly-looking older man makes me hesitate and stop midair. I can’t hit an old man. What’s wrong with me?

He has a tray with food in his hands and looks up at me, not surprised to see me standing there on the verge of bashing his head in. A cautious smile forms on his wrinkled lips, and it puts me off. Nothing about this place makes sense.

He limps inside, and the door shuts behind him. And the moment for me to flee disappears along with it.

I let myself get distracted and was blindsided by an old man. How foolish of me.

“I see you’re up,” he says, smiling gently while completely ignoring the fact I was about to smack him over the head with a candleholder. “I didn’t expect you to wake that fast. My apologies. I would’ve come upstairs sooner had I known. I wouldn’t want you to wake up all by yourself in a strange home.”

He coughs and places the tray with food on a small table next to the door. The smell of chicken soup makes my mouth water.

“I’m sorry they drugged you. It causes some lightheadedness. I can imagine it must feel … unpleasant. How are you feeling right now?” he asks.

I force myself to ignore my rumbling stomach and focus my attention on him. “Fine.”

It’s a lie, but I can’t let this man, whoever he is, know how I’m really feeling. After all, weakness is never a good thing to show in front of the men who bought you.

“Good,” he says with another smile. The kindness in his voice really catches me off guard. “You should eat. It helps to get rid of the dizziness and the headache you might have.” He nudges the tray in my direction, but I don’t budge.

When he starts approaching me, I ask, “Who are you?”

He stops in his tracks and clutches his hands together. “My name is Mario. I’m Marcello’s caretaker. I practically raised him. Nowadays, I only do the housekeeping, as I can’t do much else with this limp.” He points at his leg and chuckles. “I’m just an old man doing his job as best as he can.”

I frown, but he ignores my expression as he walks to the bed and fixes the sheets and covers, and then pulls open the curtains and continues to clean the mess I’ve made. I already forgot I puked.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s okay,” he says, washing the towel in a sink right next to the wardrobe. “I’ve cleaned up much filthier things in my life, trust me.”

Why do I get the sense he doesn’t just mean puke? I shiver.

For a moment, I glance around at the windows and the door, wondering if and how I’m going to escape and whether this man will let me. Maybe that whole limping thing is just a distraction to keep me from seeing him as the enemy. What if he tries to stop me? Could he?

He clears his throat and looks at me. “I wouldn’t try anything. Marcello won’t take it lightly.”

Of course, he’d be in on it. Marcello is even more nefarious than I thought.

“So you’re okay with me being held a prisoner in this room?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.