Sold by Clarissa Wild

Harper

I stareat the wardrobe and all the luxurious clothes it contains. Prada, Gucci, Chanel—everything I could ever imagine but never afford is here. Even the bags are from Hermès, and the shoes are by Jimmy Choo. My fingers brush over the fabrics and leather, wondering what it’d be like to wear them and feel them embrace my skin. If it’d be beautiful and if I’d feel pampered … or if I’d just be pretending to fit in.

I remove a couple of items from the closet and stare at them; there’s a partially see-through dress, a gem-studded dress, and a bright red dress with frilly ends. They’re gorgeous, but a stark reminder of my imprisonment. Like a fancy diamond collar for a dog.

Anger boils to the surface and overwhelms me, and I chuck all the dresses to the side in a burst of rage.

“Fuck!” I yell, slamming the wardrobe closed.

With my hands in my hair, I pace around the room, wondering how I’m ever going to get myself out of this mess. The moment I started tailing Marcello, I let my guard down, and in retrospect, nothing could be stupider. He knew exactly how to wrap me around his finger and make me want him, despite knowing he’s a bad person. Maybe even worse than I initially thought.

Because what if he doesn’t just have information on my parents’ death …

What if he’s the one who killed them?

Oh, God.

The thought makes my stomach churn. Not just because it would mean I’m now trapped in a house with my parents’ killer but also because of what I felt for him when he touched me, what I let him do to me on that boat.

How can I face myself after I let this mobster finger me until I orgasmed, knowing he might be responsible for my parents’ deaths?

How did I fall so deep into this trap?

Even if I manage to find the answers I’m looking for, he probably won’t ever let me go. You don’t pay a million dollars for something and then let it run away. Marcello doesn’t seem like the type to give up, either, if I did manage to escape. He’d hunt me down and reclaim me. He’d never let me live my life in peace.

I approach the windows and stare outside. There’s a garden with pretty flowers, thick bushes, and luscious trees spread out through the terrain, a cobblestone path winding between. Right in front of the house is a circular driveway with a big fountain in the middle. It’s so serene that it almost makes me wish I could go out there just to smell the roses. Just to pretend everything’s fine.

My fingers splay on the window, and I attempt to push it open, but of course, it’s sealed shut. I don’t have a tool to pick the lock with, but it’s not like that would help me. The window is two stories high, and judging from the small size of the ledge, I’d die while trying to find my way down.

In a moment of desperation, I lean my head against the window, and a single tear escapes my eye, rolling down my cheek only to fall onto the glass and hang there like a gemstone. Like a physical reminder of how bad this whole situation is.

I can’t give up. No matter how bleak things seem. No matter how much violence I’ve experienced, or how much worse things may get. I came to Marcello with a purpose, and I must see it through. If I can’t have my freedom, then at least I still have my drive. I’ll make it my life’s mission to find my parents’ murderer, and if I have to, I’ll sacrifice my body to do it.

I nod to myself. This is it. This is what I’m going to do.

Marcello might have me, but he can’t control my resolve.

He wants me to be his kitten, a pet he can toy with? Fine, I’ll play along. I’ll do what they ask, pretend I’m the good girl. I’ll make him see how good I can be, and when he finally falls for the trap I’ve set, I’ll be there. In the end, I’ll win.

My fingers turn to cat's claws against the window, and I scratch it to mark this space as mine, like the fucking “kitten” he wants me to be. Then I turn around and strut toward the wardrobe, picking out the sexiest, most provocative outfit I can find; a long, pink dress with spaghetti straps and crystals all over the top part. There’s even a pair of white pumps embellished with crystals to match. Perfect.

Marcello won’t know what’s hit him.

I pull off my nightgown and put on the new dress. It fits, which is a surprise. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past Marcello to have secretly taken my measurements when I was drugged and bought all of these clothes, shoes, and bags just to impress me.

I go through all the drawers next. There’s nothing in here that I can use as a weapon, but there is makeup. So I grab whatever I can use and slather it all over myself until I actually look like a foxy girl put up for auction at a fine dining restaurant. Hell, I’ve never looked this good, not even for a wedding.

I gaze at myself in the mirror, and even I can barely recognize the woman staring back at me.

Bombshell.

“Come and get me, motherfucker,” I growl at my reflection as if Marcello can hear me.

He won’t see it coming until I’ve already snagged his heart and ripped it in two just for daring to confine me.

I’ll find out the truth, Mom, Dad. I promise.

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door, and my heart beats in my throat. “Yes?” I didn’t know an hour has passed already. Time flies when you’re having fun plotting the downfall of your enemy. It must be Mario to bring me to the dining room.

Someone outside the door sticks in a key, and I step back just in time.

I’m halfway to saying, “Mario…” when I realize it’s not Mario who walks in.

It’s Marcello.

The mere sight of him in a black suit with a pink shirt unbuttoned at the top captures my breath. A small tattoo of an angel’s wings on his chest is barely visible, but I can see it, and I can’t stop looking, no matter how hard I try. Something about it speaks to me.

And there’s something else, too—something in his eyes, a particular shimmer of excitement like that of a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

He’s looking at me in such a possessive way that I take another step back. And another one. He follows after me until he’s inside the room, and the door shuts behind him. I bump into the bed and barely manage to stay standing.

This isn’t how I thought this would go. I thought Mario would come get me for dinner. That I’d be able to glide down the stairs and show Marcello what kind of woman I really am. Then he’d fall in love within one second of looking at me, drooling with his tongue hanging out, like a dog on a leash I could finally tame.

But this man always manages to curtail my expectations.

“Expecting someone else, kitten?” he muses, cocking his head. He bites his bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth, and for some reason, I can’t stop focusing on it. It’s hot as hell.

“Mario told me he’d come to escort me,” I say, clutching the bedpost as though it’ll give me back my bearings. But merely looking at this man makes me feel dizzy, the same kind of drunk ecstasy I felt back in that bunker when he fingered me to an orgasm.

And it makes my body tingle with need.

“It gives me great satisfaction …” He eyes me up and down, taking in my dress in one fell swoop like I’m a well-dressed doll he’s admiring. “To see the look on your face when I surprise you.”

Fuck me.

How am I supposed to make him fall for me if he continues to throw curveballs like that? If I can’t keep my own damn body’s response under control?

I close my eyes and force myself to remember.

He’s the bad guy, Harper. He may have killed your parents.

“Look at me,” he orders.

My eyes pop open as if awoken by his command.

Why? Why does my body respond so eagerly to every word he says?

He moves toward me, and I swallow down the nerves as his hand reaches up to touch my face. With his coarse knuckles, he caresses my cheek so softly it makes me gasp for air.

How can a man with his stature, his background, be involved in so much violence and stay gentle at the same time?

He reaches for my neck right underneath my hairline and pulls me closer until I’m right in his arms. His other hand snakes around my waist, locking me between him and the bed.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs after a pause to quickly glance over my dress again. “Did you pick this dress with me in mind? Did you want to impress me, kitten?”

“So what if I did?” I mouth back as he tilts my head back, exposing my bare neck, almost as if he’s going to bite me.

Instead, he leans in and whispers, “Don’t play coy with me. You wanted me to see you. You want me to lust after you.”

The way he says those luscious words, whispering them into my ear, makes my pussy clench like I happily made a deal with the devil. His hand trails from my neckline down my chest, carefully slipping down the crevice between my breasts before sliding down my dress … right between my legs.

I suck my bottom lip, and his hold on my waist tightens in response.

“Tell me you hate me. Say it out loud because your eyes and your body will betray you.” His fingers rub my pussy right through the fabric in such a delicious way I’m overcome by the very lust I meant to instill in him. And it infuriates me. I hate the way he makes me feel so powerless, so … aroused.

“You want this. Admit it,” he groans, pushing his hard-on against my thigh. “You like my touch.”

His hands slither underneath my dress, pulling it up so he can find his way to my panties, so he can slide them aside and play with my bare pussy. The look on his face is devious, dirty. As though he knows he’s in control, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

He leans in closer until his breath skims over my sensitive skin. His lips hover over mine, my breath faltering as he inches closer. The heat is electrifying, and there’s an undeniable magnetic pull between us.

Right now, I want nothing more than for him to kiss me.

And I hate myself for it.

The sound of his zipper coming down forces me to finally come to my senses. He’s manipulating my thoughts, my emotions, my body, and I can’t let him.

He bought me like some animal. He’s a monster.

In a moment of clarity, I bring my hand up and slap him. Hard.

He stops and stares at me, and for a second, I wonder if he’s going to hurt me now. The look on his face has changed to something dark.

But then he suddenly laughs.

I frown and lean back. “That wasn’t the reaction I expected.”

Even though his cheek is turning a bit red, it doesn’t seem to faze him. “You’ll have to do more than that to anger me, kitten.”

My eyes narrow. “I don’t care about your rage. You’ve already done something no human being should ever do to another.”

“Ah …” He raises his finger. “You’ve misunderstood something about me.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I fire back as he turns around and casually walks to the other side of the room.

As he glances over his shoulder, he answers, “I’m no ordinary man.” The mischievous smirk that follows makes goose bumps scatter on my skin. The same smirk I saw back in the bunker … the day he told me my life was over.

His words leave me dumbstruck for a moment as I stand here frozen by the bed, wondering what the hell is happening.

He stops at the entrance to the room. “To compare me with any man would be foolish,” he adds. “A god? Perhaps. A devil? More likely.” He opens the door for me. “Come.”

I cross my arms and take a defensive stance. “Why on earth would I?”

“Because we’re having dinner. Now.” He pronounces the last word in such a demanding way, I have to wonder what will happen if I don’t listen.

“And what if I don’t want to?” I retort in an attempt to regain some power.

His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare as his muscles tighten beneath his suit. “You will do as I say. Don’t test me, kitten, or I may have to put you over my knee and spank you for your cattiness.”

My eyes widen. Spank me? What in the …? I’ve never been spanked. Who does he think he is?

Still, the thought of his hand forcing me down, hitting my ass, touching my most private, intimate parts while I’m splayed over his lap, causes something to stir inside my belly, something I find harder and harder to ignore.

I swallow the burning sensation bubbling to the surface, forcing it to go away in the hopes he didn’t see.

But the added twitch of a smile on his face tells me he already did.

Only one other option exists if I want to truly avoid falling for him. I could tell myself I feel nothing while giving in completely … so I can pry every last bit of important detail from his lips. When I have every piece of information I need, I’ll run.

After sighing out loud, I straighten my back, lift my chin, and walk toward the door with renewed pride. But right as I pass him, he places his hand on my stomach, forcing me to stop.

He takes my breath away when he whispers, “Make no mistake, kitten … I own you now.”