Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

“When I was ten years old, your father stormed into my home with his men and threw us out. No warning, no nothing. No time to pack a fucking bag. Dominic was six years old, practically a baby. As he clung to my mother’s side, I watched your father tell his team to destroy everything inside the property and get everyone out. Us and all the people who worked for us. My father went broke overnight. Literally. Your father cleaned him out. Took everything and turned people who could have helped us against him. He threatened the others. If they helped us in any shape or form, they’d die. Them and their families. That is who your father is.” He tightens his fist and continues spewing out the vile words of a man I don’t recognize. Dad said he did things he wasn’t proud of, but this is awful.

“For years, we struggled just to have a place to live. Everywhere my father went, no one would help him, and you know why? It was because your father was in love with my mother and she wouldn’t choose him. That’s why. Then it ended with her death. He dealt his last blow when he held a gun to my head at my mother’s funeral. I was twelve years old, Emelia. I was standing a breath away from my mother’s grave. We’d just buried her, and your father came to the cemetery and thought he should do that to me. Threaten to kill me and my whole family. How can you do that to a twelve-year-old?”

My cheeks burn, and my hands fly up to them. I pant as I try to catch my breath.

“Oh my God…” I breathe.

“That’s the summary of me. How about we skip to you. He only took you to that charity ball with him because he wanted to sell you. It’s the kind of ball where you do things like that, in a covert way, to secure a business deal. A business marriage.”

I continue shaking my head. “What?”

“Did you meet anyone at the ball?” he asks.

“Yes… the man on the boat today who was shooting at you.” I feel sick, and Massimo looks worse for wear.

He gives me a crude laugh. “Your father is one nasty piece of work. But please, do not take my word for it. After all, you can’t trust me, remember? He told you not to trust me. Don’t trust me. Trust yourself. Trust what your eyes can see.”

He pushes out the document to me to take. I walk to him and reach for it.

I don’t actually have the strength to do that, but good old curiosity moves me to see what I’m supposed to see.

I look at the document and can’t believe what I’m reading.

It’s a contract for sale.

Sale of me.

It says

This Sales Agreement is entered into on November 17th, 2018 by and between Riccardo Balesteri (the “Seller”) and Vlad (the “Buyer”) to agree the sale of Emelia Balesteri for

$30 million dollars.

Terms of contract

The Parties agree as follows:

Emelia will be delivered to your residence in Florence, Italy, on July 10th,, 2019.

Emelia will join the other women in the brothel and conduct all services requested by your clients. Her body will belong to you to do as you choose.

You agree that she will be able to go to art school when she isn’t required to work for you...

I stop reading. I can’t read any more.

At the bottom is my father’s signature, with two blank spaces next to it. A space for me to sign, and another for Vlad.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, my hands shaking so much I drop the contract.

“Vlad would have only wanted you in his brothel to replace one of the women he killed, Emelia. You know what he does to women?” I wish he wouldn’t tell me.

“Don’t tell me.” I shake my head.

“You need to hear this. He rapes, and he tortures, and he makes you beg for death. When he gets his eye on a prize, he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants, and it’s all for fun. That’s what he did to Tristan’s wife. Then he thought it would be funny to send him her head in a box with a note and her wedding ring.”

I cry out from the horror.

“Your father sent him today to get you to fulfill the fucking contract. That’s who your father is, Emelia. I… I won’t get my girl’s head in a box.” It’s the second time I’ve seen him cry.