Sold by Clarissa Wild

Harper

All the questionsabout Marcello and my parents violently circulating through my head come to a full stop. His kiss brought them to a screeching halt.

If I could, I would pause time and beg for him to keep kissing me, to erase the memories of my past and everything I know about him. I’d wish I hadn’t met him the way I did, wished I hadn’t known the things I do now.

But this man is a mobster, and he is about to kill a ton of people.

Or worse … maybe they’re going to kill him.

Just the thought makes me want to scream, and I don’t fucking know why.

Why do I care so much? But more importantly, why do I find it so hard not to plead with him to stay?

My heart crumbles at the thought of not having these lips on mine again, these lips that consume me whole. I shouldn’t want this man, but for some reason, I’ve gotten so used to his touch and so addicted to his mouth that I can’t say no anymore. No matter how many times I tell myself this man is wrong for me, my heart has stopped believing it.

Because deep down inside, I know what I want—him.

But I can’t ever say it out loud.

That would mean admitting to myself that I care more about my own needs and wants than I do about finding out who murdered my parents. More than revenge itself.

And that can’t fucking happen. I made it my life’s mission to avenge them. If I can’t have that, then what am I? What do I have left except broken promises, a used body, and my dignity destroyed?

This man.

Thatis all I have left.

And I’ll be damned if I lose that too.

I don’t care if that makes me a monster. Because the way he kisses me—so hungrily, so deeply, full of passion and greed, as though I’m his last asset that he holds on to for dear life— makes me melt into a puddle.

Suddenly, the door slams open, and Marcello’s lips tear away from mine. Claudio bursts inside while I gasp for air, my lips still tingling from Marcello’s obsessive kisses.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we must leave. Now.” His tone is serious, even more so than usual.

Marcello tenses up as he briefly glances at Claudio and nods at him. His eyes lower while he turns his head back to me. His lips part, but then he closes them again as though he can’t find the words he wants to say.

Instead, he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips to place a sultry kiss on top, turning my heart into a mushy mess. When did I succumb to his charms? Was it always this easy to him?

Claudio grabs all the guns hanging from the racks and stuffs them into two giant bags.

Marcello’s hand slides away from mine as his body leans away, and he turns around without saying another word. But that kiss said more than any of his words ever could, and it makes goose bumps scatter across my skin.

I stand there, frozen to the floor, as Marcello and Claudio leave with the bags, abandoning me in the barren armory room as though it means nothing. As though I’m already part of the family, and they trust me completely.

It’s a crazy thought—being part of this Mafia, this madness. Just a month ago, I would’ve called that a nightmare.

Even if Marcello were to survive this whole turf war between him and the Russians, there’s no way I could ever belong in this messed-up home. Even though my heart started aching the moment he left with Claudio, I know it’s not right. I know deep down I don’t truly belong here, no matter how much I’ve convinced myself that I want to be near him.

But that last look he gave me was loaded with so much turmoil it filled my heart with dread.

What if he doesn’t survive? What will become of me?

Will the people who kill him come for me next?

I shudder just from the thought.

Suddenly, the door creaks, and I jolt up and down in terror. My heart rate shoots up but immediately comes down again once I spot Mario sauntering into the room.

“What are you doing here, my dear?”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I, uh … I was just saying goodbye to Marcello.”

“Right,” he says. “Or were you just admiring the racks of guns?”

He says it so casually as though it was never a secret to him that this room was filled with guns. And for some reason, that surprises me even though I should’ve known better. Mario is closest to Marcello. Of course, Mario would be privy to his most private matters.

“Sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to—”

“Oh, just ignore me and my old man jokes,” he says, snickering to himself. “I’ve not had a laugh in a good while.”

“Ah,” I reply. I didn’t realize he was only trying to get under my skin.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back upstairs. There’s nothing much to see here anyway. Not with all the guns being taken.” He shrugs.

I frown. “Doesn’t it worry you that Marcello is doing all this?”

He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t be Marcello if he didn’t.” He raises his brow at me. “I expect this of him.”

Expect? He almost makes it sound like he’s Marcello’s superior, but that wouldn’t be right, would it? I mean, Mario is his butler … At least, that’s what I always thought. But now I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe these two have a much more complicated relationship than I initially thought.

“But I won’t bother you with my ruminations,” he adds.

“It’s fine. I like hearing more about you and Marcello.” I smile. “It makes it easier to cope.”

He sighs. “I understand that. But it is not up to me what you get to know. That is Marcello’s choice, and it should remain his.”

“So you can’t tell me anything? Not even a little bit about him, his past, the business he’s in?” I ask as we both go upstairs.

“Marcello is the don of this family. He decides who shares what information, even if it involves me,” he replies.

“So you have no say in anything?” I ask. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No, I chose this life.” He smiles politely at me as we reach the top of the stairs. “Life can be quite fulfilling when serving the ones who need you the most.”

Interesting. I hadn’t thought about it in that perspective. Maybe Mario really loves the subservient life. I can imagine it brings some peace knowing someone always looks to you in their times of need. He’s the one who’s always got Marcello’s back, and I kind of admire that in him. No one’s ever done that for me … not in such a wholesome way anyway.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some phone calls to make and errands to run.” He clears his throat.

Right as he’s about to leave, I ask, “Do you think Marcello will be okay?”

He doesn’t look my way, but his body still tenses. “I trust Marcello wholeheartedly. He will come back.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“A man just knows some things … in his heart.” He sighs and then walks off.

The answer he gave me doesn’t lessen the turmoil in my head. How does this man trust Marcello so implicitly, knowing what’s at stake and what he’s about to throw himself into?

I don’t want him to die.

But what could I possibly do?

I chew my lip and look around at the empty house, which has been nothing but a luxurious and expensive prison to me. Ever since I came here, I’ve been dying to get out and escape Marcello’s grasp.

But is that even an option anymore?

That’s when I notice the door at the end of the hallway that has never been open is now wide open, and behind it a bunch of cars are parked, along with a big truck. Claudio and Marcello are loading the truck with the bags they just filled with guns.

My stomach turns upside down. I can’t stay here.

So I take the only road left to me.

I creep toward those unguarded doors. When Claudio and Marcello are busy talking, I hop inside the truck and stow away in the back behind a bunch of bags of guns.

Claudio suddenly comes out again to inspect the shipment. Sweat drips down my back as I attempt to keep quiet and remain calm while muffled sounds come from the front of the truck.

“Do we have all of it?” Marcello asks.

“Yes. That’s all we have,” Claudio replies.

Marcello sighs out loud. “It will have to do. What about the men?”

“They’re waiting on your orders, sir.”

“Good. Tell them to meet us out front.”

The doors slam shut, and I have to physically restrain myself so I don’t jolt up and down from the scare the noise gave me. Especially when a gun pokes me in the back.

Oh, God.

The moment the engine starts is the moment I realize what I’m doing.

I’m stowed away in a mafia lord’s truck on its way to God knows where, straight into some mob war, just so I can get away.

But as the truck drives away, it truly dawns on me just how stupid this idea really was. And now it’s too late to turn back.

I can’t get out. The doors are locked, and even if I managed to unlock them, the jump would probably kill me from the speed at which we’re going. I can’t escape these guns prodding my side either, guns that could go off any moment if the safety isn’t on correctly. I could die right here, and no one would discover me until it’s too late.

Panic fills my veins, making me want to scream, but I stop myself just before I do, covering my mouth with my hand. What if they hear me, and stop to find me here? Marcello would probably be so mad that he’d want to punish me … or worse … lock me inside his home, forever.

And that is a fate worse than death.

Even if his house is a luxurious prison with servants and lavish gifts, I am still a prisoner there, and I can’t be contained like that.

I need to be free.

No matter how much my body aches for his, no matter how much my heart is trying to tell me to stay put and wait, I just can’t.

When I saw the opportunity to flee this place, I knew I needed to take it, both for my sake as well as for my parents. I can only hope Marcello won’t be too pissed when he discovers I’m gone.

The question is, though, will I be able to escape the scene of the crime once we get to our destination? Not that I know where the hell we’re going, and if we’re even going to get there in one piece.

I shiver as the truck keeps on driving, the road seemingly endless. Time passes slowly when you’re in the dark and stuck between bare metal and loaded weapons. I try not to think about it, but every bump in the road forces the barrel to push farther into my waist, and it’s causing my heart rate to spike.

Suddenly, the truck comes to a halt, and adrenaline courses through my veins.

“Go, go, go!” Marcello shouts.

There’s bustling and rummaging, and the doors at the back open. Men hop inside, lifting out the guns in packs as though it comes naturally to them. I stay hidden in the back behind some crates that I pray they won’t check and won’t need.

“Hurry up!” Claudio yells at the men. “There isn’t much time left!”

I’ve never heard their voices so unhinged, so tense. And it freaks me the fuck out.

With my heart beating in my throat, I take the plunge and peek out from beyond the crate. We’re in the middle of the docks near some warehouses. Luckily, no one sees me, as Marcello’s men are all busy talking about their strategy. They clutch their guns closely to their chest, the sheer size of them making me swallow hard.

Suddenly, gunfire erupts. I gasp and cover my mouth to stop the squeal from escaping.

I swiftly move back to my spot and cower in fear.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

It’s already happening.

There’s no more time.

No time to leave, no time to call for help.

Shots and blasts are everywhere, popping my eardrums, bombarding my senses. I huddle on my knees in the corner and cover my ears in the hopes that my eardrums don’t shatter. It feels as though I’m in a dream, like I’m about to snap to and wake, but that’s only make-believe, a story I tell to comfort myself in the midst of a war breaking out between rival gangs.

“To the left!” Marcello yells, his voice making my heart stop beating for a second.

A tear rolls down my cheeks, knowing he’s still alive and well.

Even when I told myself I didn’t care, I do. I fucking do, and it’s so damn scary not knowing whether he’ll live or die … and what fate I will have to face once this is all over.

“Don’t fucking give up!” Claudio yells to the men, and they respond with a brazen grunt, as though all of them have been emblazoned by his call. “We’ve almost won!”

The gunfire goes on for a few more minutes, people screaming and shouting left and right. I don’t dare look at the carnage, don’t dare to escape in the middle of the war, don’t dare to stand and see whether or not Marcello will make it out alive.

Not long afterward, the last few bullets ricochet, and the whole place goes quiet. I wonder if anyone at all made it out alive. The need to know outweighs the wish to stay hidden, and I creep out from my crate to have a peek, hoping no one spots me here.

And maybe, just maybe, it will be safe enough to flee unseen and escape into the night, far away from this deadly ordeal.

“Hello, Marcello …”

My eyes widen at the sound of that voice. A voice I haven’t heard in such a long time, I thought it had disappeared forever.

And my lips mutter the words before I’ve even had a chance to look. But I already know who it is, and the mere thought makes my heart drop.

“Dad?”