Sold by Clarissa Wild
Marcello
Steppingonto the mega-yacht with Claudio and two of my best men in tow, I take in the luxurious surroundings, which is in total contrast with the shady deals that have been done here in the past.
I’d better get my weapons. That’s the only thing I’m here for.
We’re shown to a room that where tables have been set up. Taking a seat at my designated table, we’re approached by a server. I order my usual whiskey, then glance around at the other people in attendance. I recognize men from the Polish Mafia, more Russian acquaintances of Igor, and some wealthy men.
There’s a makeshift stage up front where goods will probably be offered for bidding. The server brings my drink and also places a paddle with the number eleven engraved on it. Ignoring the paddle, I reach for the tumbler and take a sip of the amber liquid.
Just then, a group of women is led out onto the stage, all dressed in bikinis, which don’t leave much to the imagination. My top lip curls at the distasteful sight. I’m not into sex slavery and wish they started with the weapons instead.
My eyes scan over the other men in attendance, and I watch as they practically drool at the sight of the women. You’d think they would buy some class with all their wealth. Fuckers.
The auction begins, and one of Igor’s men takes the bids. I order another whiskey, and I’m halfway with the drink by the time they’re done selling the girls.
The man on stage announces a short break while they prepare the next batch of girls. Shortly after, the head of the Polish Mafia makes his way over to me.
“Marcello, how are you?” he asks as he takes a seat at my table.
“Stefan,” I murmur, inclining my head in greeting to Stefan Lizak. “Good to see you again.” I set my whiskey down, and offering him my hand, we shake.
According to some intel we got, he has an armory on the Westside with two dozen Heckler & Koch submachine guns that might be purchased at the right price. Which means I have to play nice just in case Igor doesn’t come through for me.
“I don’t usually see you at Igor’s auctions,” Stefan says, his Polish accent thick.
“I like being unpredictable,” I say smoothly.
Stefan lets out a chuckle. “To keep everyone on their toes?”
“Of course,” I murmur while reaching for the tumbler again.
He turns and gestures toward the stage. “What’ll it be for you today, Dellucci? Personally, I prefer the ones with big tits and plump lips. After I put the fear of God in them and train them to my liking, of course.”
Lord have mercy on whichever poor girl Stefan decides to buy tonight.
“I’m here for the weapons only,” I say instead. “I heard you might be able to help with a shipment of Heckler & Kochs?”
Stefan glances around us, then says, “Call me tomorrow.” He rises to his feet. “The walls have ears.”
We shake hands as I nod, and then I watch as he walks away while continuing to slowly sip on my drink.
Minutes later, Igor makes his way over to my table, and grinning, he says, “Good to see you could make it. I trust you’ve been entertained by the flesh on stage?”
“Thank you for the invitation,” I say in a low tone.
“What is an auction without the head of the Italian Mafia, right?” he replies, chuckling.
I just nod and slowly begin to twirl the tumbler on the table while I lock eyes with him.
Not able to hold my gaze, Igor glances around the room, then says, “Why don’t you join me at my table?”
Hopefully, it means we can talk business. Rising to my feet, I follow Igor to one of the tables up front and sit in the seat he gestures at. Once we’re as comfortable as we can be, seeing that most of the men here are enemies in some way, Igor orders another round of drinks.
“Na zdoróvʹje,” Igor toasts, clinking his glass against mine.
“Na zdoróvʹje,” I reply, even though I can only guess what it means, while our eyes lock as we each take a sip.
Setting his tumbler of vodka down, the Russian says, “We’ll talk business after the auction. There’s another group of girls coming up, and you might see something you like.”
Rolling my shoulders, I clench my jaw with annoyance. The fucker is living on borrowed time. One after the other, girls are led out onto the stage, and with zero interest, I glance at each of them until my eyes lock on one.
Holy fuck.
It’s her.
Surprise ripples over me, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. The girl I was starting to think was nothing but a dream.
How the hell did she end up in Igor’s hands? Did he kidnap her from the club? Probably.
I take a slow breath, schooling my face so none of the surprise at the sight of the girl who got my attention the other night shows.
My gaze rakes over her, drinking in every inch of her exposed creamy skin, and I immediately begin to harden.
Fuck, she’s breathtaking.
I hear a rumbling of whispers, and looking around me, I’m not happy to see most of the men are staring at her.
Like hell, if I’ll let one of these fuckers get their grubby paws on her.
Harper
Minutes ago
Some time passes, and the voices of several different men come from behind the door. More time passes. Then another agonized squeal. My heart sinks into my shoes.
The door opens again. It’s the same guy, and now he’s grabbed Melanie. She gives me a panicked look right before the door slams in my face.
Will I ever see her again?
Even though I don’t know her, and we only met briefly, it’s as if we’re forever connected at this moment by trauma.
The more time passes, the longer it feels, and my breathing becomes erratic. How much longer until they come for me? What lies beyond that door? I’ll find out soon, but the waiting is killing me … and the gun shoved against my back really doesn’t help ease the nerves.
“Your turn,” the guard behind me says, laughing to himself. “Be on your best behavior, now.” He leans in to lick my neck, and it makes me want to puke. “Or you’ll have to answer to me.”
“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth.
He laughs again. “Believe me, far worse men than me are waiting for you out there, love.”
I wish I could slap the smirk that follows right off his face.
The door opens once again, and a fresh breeze wafting past me makes me suck in a breath.
“C’mon,” the bastard says as he grabs my arm and tugs me out of the hallway and into the light. It’s so bright that it blinds me for a moment, pointed straight at me.
But one thing’s for sure … I’m on a fucking stage.
What the hell is going on?
The guy pushes me forward, forcing me to walk to the middle. A few cruel laughs emanate from the room beyond the stage. Once the light dims, the men finally become visible. There are a dozen of them, maybe more, all in fancy suits, drinking expensive liquor, smoking thick cigars.
And they’re all watching me.
One of them raises a paddle. “Fifty,” he calls out.
This… this is an auction for me.
I’m horrified. Completely and utterly horrified this is happening. That these men are willing to buy girls like they’re objects, like we’re less than human. How dare they? How fucking dare they do this to us, to me?
Who the fuck bought Melanie? And that other girl? Where did they take them? What did they do to them?
God, this can’t be happening!
My blood is boiling, but I can’t fucking let them see the horror I feel. If they know, it’ll only fuel their desire. Their filthy eyes show that longing for a forbidden girl. One they can’t have … but take anyway, because money can buy you everything.
But I learned long ago never to show a man you’re angry or sad. It only gives them ammo to hurt you.
So I resist the need to lash out and yell, to thrash and fight them off, knowing it could get me killed. Instead, I press my lips shut and stare at them in silence. That will be my defiance, my pride. I won’t give them what they want. I won’t cower, and I won’t cry. I will stare at all of them to let them know what they’re doing is wrong.
For the briefest of moments, I feel strong.
That’s when I spot him.
Marcello.
He’s right there, in the front of the room, sitting in one of the chairs with a glass of whiskey in his hand. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he stares right back at me with that same twisted desire he had in the club. And at that moment, the world feels like it suddenly shifts on its axis.
Because he’s probably going to do everything he can to make me his.