Sold by Clarissa Wild

Harper

My muscles hurtfrom all the running, but I don’t stop. I keep circling the same lap over and over in the garden in an effort to rid myself of all the anger seeping through my bones, infecting my heart … all because of Marcello.

My body is still on fire from what happened in my bedroom—how he took me onto his lap and smacked my ass until it was fiery red, then fucked my throat and didn’t blink twice to fill me up.

It made me feel small, powerless.

And completely and utterly head over heels.

I hate myself for it. My mind knows damn well this man is anything but a man to kneel to, but my body can’t stop loving every inch of his. It’s like we’re magnets pulling each other closer, always fighting for domination. And I’m not sure I can win this fight.

I blow out a breath and close my eyes while running, reminding myself to stay in the here and now. Working out is the only thing that can take my mind off things when I’m in trouble. I’m glad Mario allowed me to go outside. I need the fresh air.

But even as I run circles around the garden, my brain keeps running circles around Marcello. I cycle through the same thoughts, again and again, even though I get no closer to feeling better about any of the insane shit that keeps happening to me.

I don’t know if I should be grateful or more upset that I let myself fall into his trap so easily. That I let Marcello convince me a little bit of freedom was worth sacrificing my body. But at the same time, a sliver of freedom is better than nothing at all.

Maybe if I keep doing what he says, if I let him do whatever he wants … I’ll be truly free someday.

But what if he wants more than my body?

What if he wants me to stay?

I gulp and pause to wipe the sweat off my forehead. But as I lean over to stretch, I spot a small shed near the edge of the grounds, near the fence, hidden behind a couple of thick bushes.

Something about it looks … off. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s wrong somehow. It just doesn’t belong. And that piques my curiosity.

I’ve looked over every other unlocked room in the house as far as I could, left nothing unscathed, but I couldn’t find a single thing about my parents. Not since those documents magically disappeared from Mario’s desk, thanks to Marcello snooping on me.

I try to talk myself down. No reason to get excited about this new discovery. It’s just a shed and probably just used to store garden supplies, but … what if?

It’s worth a shot.

So I look around to see if anyone’s watching me before I slip along the side of the mansion toward the shed. At the door, I knock, hoping no one’s inside.

I’m in luck.

I push down the door handle, and the door squeaks when I open it. Inside are a bunch of racks filled with garden supplies, bags of soil and seeds, shovels, and scissors, as I suspected. But there must be more than meets the eye.

I rummage around, going through every nook and cranny, lifting every box I can find until nothing’s left to search.

That’s when I notice the small hole in the bottom of the floor.

I go to my knees and wipe away the dust and grime until I can push my finger into the hole. I lift the bottom … and it shifts loose.

My heartbeat races as I push away the false bottom, and a box appears underneath. I take it out and inspect it. There’s a biometric scanner on the front. No matter how hard I pull, I can’t seem to open it. Not without the correct thumbprint.

No one would hide a box in this shed without a purpose. Something important is inside, something someone doesn’t want me or anyone else to find.

I’m going to find out what it is. Because it could well be the documents I’m looking for. And I’m going to find a way to get this fucking thing open.

Suddenly, there’s racket coming from somewhere behind me. Turning my head, I look out the door, realizing there’s a commotion beyond the garden. I have to get out of here before someone discovers what I’m doing.

I chuck the box back into the hole and cover it with the fake flooring before rushing out and shutting the door behind me. I run back toward the main area where I was doing laps and continue doing them so as not to draw attention to myself.

Right as I turn the corner, Mario and Marcello emerge from the rose garden. That’s odd. I knew Marcello had left the mansion early this morning with his mafia buddy Claudio, but I never saw them come back. How long have they been out here?

Mario suddenly leans over with his hands on his knees and has a coughing fit. He seems like he’s really struggling to breathe. Drops of blood land on the ground in front of him. Marcello immediately leaps to him to stop him from falling over and helps him to a wooden seat a few feet ahead. He keeps his arm around Mario, and gently pats him on the back while the older man coughs into a napkin.

Marcello seems so gentle around him. Almost as if he’s taking care of an old friend, someone very special to him. I’ve never seen him so tender before. And as I stand near the fountain in front of the house, I choke up a little.

Maybe there’s a soft side to this man after all.

Suddenly, Marcello looks my way, and I gasp, feeling caught in the act of snooping. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. But the look on his face is no longer as soft as it was when Mario almost collapsed. No, it’s more as if Marcello is the one feeling caught in the act.

Mario follows his gaze until he spots me too, and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. Marcello beckons me to come closer.

Every step I take, the gravel crackles underneath my weight, breaking the silence between the three of us. I know Marcello is upset. He scowls at me as I approach, and it makes my stomach churn.

When I get close enough, he holds up a hand. “Were you spying on us?” he asks.

“I wasn’t—”

He silences me with another hand. “Don’t make excuses.”

I frown. “I was exercising.”

He cocks his head. “But you snooped, regardless.”

“I didn’t even know you were here,” I retort, putting my hand against my side. “Sorry.”

Mario clears his throat. “I think I’m going to leave you two to it.” An obvious wise old man’s snort follows. He gets up and walks off, back toward the home, while Marcello’s eyes continue to bore into mine.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes but is probably only seconds until Mario disappears behind the doors. Marcello’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he pats the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he says in a tired voice. “C’mon … I don’t bite.”

I contemplate denying him, but then I wonder what good it would do when I’m being kept a prisoner. Besides, sitting never hurt anyone. So I sit down next to him and look him in the eyes.

“I lied,” he says, leaning sideways to me.

My heart palpitates from the implications of what he’s about to say.

Could this be the moment? Is he going to admit he knows about my parents? That he killed them?

“I do bite. But only when tempted,” he adds.

My worry deflates into stupid laughter.

“What?” he asks.

“That’s what you wanted to say?” I make a face at him.

“No. But it’s a good ice breaker,” he replies.

I shake my head. “What do you want, Marcello? I already apologized for snooping.”

“I know,” he says. “I just need to find out something.”

Find out something? That can’t have anything to do with my parents. But what else could this be about? Unless … he has feelings for me?

He turns his head away from me and stares off into the distance for a moment. What does he mean? He’s so cryptic all of a sudden when he was so clear about wanting me before.

What changed?

“You were pacing around my room … before …”

He looks at me again in that same way as before back when he was in my room, kissing me, and it makes my throat clamp up.

I rub my lips together and tilt my head. “Was there something you wanted to ask?”

I know he wasn’t there to tell me the truth, but I can at least try to peel it out of him a little.

“I was …” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

I let out a sigh and get up. “I don’t know why you asked me to sit. This conversation is going nowhere. Just like the rest of them. You keep me in the dark, but you want me around for some reason, and I don’t understand why. What makes me so special?”

“I want to protect you,” he says, clenching his fist.

A mobster, protecting me?

“From what?” I retort a little too loud.

“From me.”

The air around us is thick with desire and unspoken words. So many emotions swirl in my head, and I can’t put them in the right place. I’m conflicted because the look he gives me is both murderous and yielding. Almost as if he’s dying for me to grab him and kiss him, to give him permission to take me, to keep me. But we both know that’s not how this works.

I am not a willing victim, and he is not a good man … and he knows it.

That’s what’s bothering him, why he wanted to come and see me. He’s trying to undo something that can’t be fixed.

I shake my head. “No. You can’t fucking do this.”

“What?” he growls. “Admit that I tried to take my anger out on you?”

I shake my head. It’s more than that, and he knows it. He’s just trying to hide from it, just like I am.

I’m disappointed in both myself and him, and I storm off to cool down. But there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. I can’t escape this place. The only way to move is up. Up there, into the big trees scattered across the grounds. So I go to the tree closest to the fence and start to climb it.

I’ve had it with this place, with these people, with him. If I can’t have what I came for, if I can’t have the truth without losing myself, then I quit.

“What the hell are you doing, Harper?” Marcello barks at me from below the tree.

“I’m gonna jump off,” I shout back. “And you won’t ever see me again.”

He laughs out loud. “Oh, please. You know the wall is too far, right?”

“I don’t care!” I reply. I’m not giving up that easily even though he’s right. But I’ve got this in my mind, and now I have to carry it out. Otherwise, we’re both liars.

“If you jump, you’ll only hurt yourself,” he adds.

I laugh. It’s not a joyful laugh but a cynical one. The laughter of a woman who’s out of options. “Why do you even care? You never cared about me. I’m just a fuck toy, right?”

Suddenly, the look on his face changes, and he balls his fist. “Don’t.”

“What?” I raise my brow. “Speak the truth?” I make a tsk sound. “You should try it. Feels good.”

“Stop.” His voice is even more demanding than usual.

“Why would I? Give me one good reason,” I say, clutching the branch above me while balancing on the stem below me, hoping I can get close enough.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harper!” he yells. “I’m already watching my own fucking mother die. I don’t need to watch you die, too.”

My eyes widen, and I immediately stop.

What did he just say?

His mother?

Dying?

I turn around on the branch and look at him, hoping to spot a lie, but nothing but pain mars his face, twisting it into a darkness I haven’t seen before. It’s true. Holy shit.

“Now come down,” he adds, extending a hand. “Please.”

I’ve never heard him plead with me like that. Never.

It’s enough to make me listen.

I climb down the thick branch and grab his hand on the way down, but a big root sticks out from the ground and causes me to stumble straight into him. He catches me in his arms, my face against his warm chest, his heartbeat rising with every breath I take.

I quickly lean away as he clears his throat, but his hands won’t leave my body, and I won’t leave his embrace.

What is this stirring deep down in my belly? Our hearts twisting slowly into an impossible knot? It can’t be that … can it?

“I didn’t know about—”

He places a finger on my lips. “Don’t say another word.”

I lower my eyes. I can’t look at him, but I don’t know why.

“You are mine. You do not get to escape this place,” he says, and with his index finger, he tips up my chin. “Do you understand?”

My brows furrow. “Why? Why me? What am I to you?”

“You are … special to me,” he says hesitantly, licking his lip.

“Special,” I scoff. “So that’s why you treat me like a fuck do—”

Before I can finish the word, his hands cup my face, and he smashes his lips on mine.

I’m overcome with emotion, overcome with greed, lust, anger, rage, all of it bundled into one sweet, sinful package that I don’t know how to unwrap. His kiss is harsh and soft at the same time, needy, as though he’s been holding himself back and finally letting go.

I can’t help but feel moved by the moment, wishing he could’ve been this way from the start. Honest. Vulnerable. Transparent. Like a normal fucking human being.

It’s wrong, he’s wrong, but this kiss … it feels so damn right I don’t want him to stop.

It’s almost as if he can hear my thoughts because he immediately takes his lips off mine and stares at me for a second, contemplating what to do. Maybe contemplating whether or not he feels something for me. Although that might just be wishful thinking on my part.

I swallow as my lips part, and his thumb brushes across them. “You’ll be my undoing,” he murmurs.

Hisundoing?

That can’t mean what I think it means. This man is as cold as ice. He doesn’t have a beating heart or feelings.

Except … what if he does? What if he feels something more, like I am? Confusion. Hope. Something more powerful than lust.

Is Marcello Dellucci falling for me?

I stare at him for a second, completely dumbfounded by this realization. He leans in again, his palm against my cheek as his lips move closer and closer until I can feel his breath on my skin. The imminent kiss is electrifying, and I’m frozen in place, gasping for air.

It’s then that it hits me.

I’m hungry for his kiss, his touch. And the mere thought of his body against mine made my heart flutter.

No.

I shake my head and pull away from him, glaring at him as though he’s stolen something of mine I wasn’t ready to give.

I can’t. I can’t let him do this, no matter how badly I want him to.

So I turn away and run past him, tears filling my eyes as I rush back inside the mansion.

Because if I know one thing for sure, it’s that I cannot ever fall in love with this man.