Owned by the Mafia King

The room smelled of money and danger. Gold chandeliers hung above the crowded hall, their light reflecting off glasses of expensive wine. Men in black suits sat in leather chairs, whispering about women as if they were talking about cars or jewelry.

I didn't belong here.

I sat in the corner, my wrists tied together with a thin silver chain. My heart raced as I looked at the stage where a man with a scarred face was shouting numbers. Girls were being sold to the highest bidder.

I was next.

"Name?" the scarred man barked at me, yanking me toward the stage.

"Isabella Romano," I whispered, my voice shaking.

Laughter filled the hall.

"Romano? Oh, that's rich," one man said. "Isn't that the family who owes half the mafia their lives?"

I bit my lip hard, holding back tears. This was my father's fault. He lost everything in a bad deal with the wrong people, and now they were using me to pay his debt.

The scarred man grabbed my chin, forcing me to face the crowd. "Twenty years old. Untouched. Daughter of a man who couldn't pay his debts. Starting bid-one million."

The crowd came alive.

"One million."

"One-point-five."

"Two million!"

The numbers rose fast, and my chest tightened with panic.

Then, a deep voice cut through the chaos.

"Ten million."

The room went silent.

I turned my head, and that's when I saw him.

He sat in the back row, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. His hair was dark, his jaw sharp, and his eyes-God, his eyes-were cold and dangerous. He didn't look like the other men. He looked like he owned them.

The scarred man stammered. "Ten million? A-Are you serious, Mr. Moretti?"

Moretti.

I had heard that name before. Dante Moretti. The ruthless billionaire who ran half of New York's underground. People whispered his name like it was a curse.

"Yes," Dante said calmly, not even looking at anyone else. "And no one will outbid me."

No one dared.

The scarred man grinned nervously. "Sold! To Mr. Moretti."

My knees weakened as the chain was removed. Two men in black suits pushed me toward him.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But something about the way he looked at me froze me in place.

I stood in front of him, my head down, my heart pounding so loud I thought he could hear it.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice deep and commanding.

I looked up, meeting his dark eyes.

"Do you know who I am?"

I nodded, my lips trembling. "Dante Moretti."

"Good. Then you know what happens when you try to run from me."

I swallowed hard, saying nothing.

He leaned closer, his scent a mix of expensive cologne and danger. "You're mine now, Isabella. From this moment on, you belong to me."

My stomach twisted. "I'm not a thing you can buy-"

Before I could finish, he grabbed my chin, his touch firm but not painful.

"Don't test me, little dove," he murmured. "I paid ten million to keep you alive. You should thank me."

"Alive?" I whispered.

His lips curled into a cold smile. "The man you owed was going to sell you to the Russians. Trust me, they don't treat women well."

I froze. My anger faded, replaced by fear.

Dante stood, towering over me. "Follow me."

He led me outside to a sleek black car waiting by the curb. His driver opened the door, and Dante motioned for me to get in.

I hesitated.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

I climbed in quickly.

The car smelled like leather and power. Dante sat beside me, his hand resting on his knee, relaxed as if he hadn't just bought me like property.

I stared out the window, my hands shaking.

"Stop trembling," he said after a while.

"I'm not trembling," I lied.

He smirked. "You're bad at lying. But you'll learn."

I turned to glare at him. "I'm not staying with you. As soon as I can, I'll leave."

He leaned closer, his dark eyes locking with mine. "Try. I dare you."

My breath caught in my throat. There was no doubt in my mind-if I tried to run, he'd find me.

"Why did you buy me?" I asked, my voice soft.

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, "Because I wanted you."

Those words made my heart skip, but I hated myself for it.

The car stopped in front of a massive mansion surrounded by high walls and armed guards. The gates opened, and we drove inside.

The place looked more like a fortress than a home.

Inside, everything was luxury-marble floors, golden chandeliers, expensive paintings. But there was a coldness to it, like it wasn't a place for love, only power.

"Follow me," Dante ordered.

I followed him up the stairs, my eyes darting around. Cameras were everywhere. Guards stood at every corner.

He stopped in front of a large bedroom.

"This is your room," he said.

"My room?"

He opened the door. The room was huge, with a king-sized bed, silk sheets, and a balcony overlooking the garden.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered. "Why me?"

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Because you're mine now. And I protect what's mine."

Before I could reply, he stepped closer, so close I could feel his breath.

"You'll stay here," he said. "You won't try to run. You won't talk to anyone unless I say so. Understand?"

I nodded slowly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer for the first time.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine:

"Tomorrow, we're getting married."

My eyes widened. "What? No! You can't-"

He tilted his head, his dark eyes burning into mine. "I can. And I will."

"Why?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

His answer was simple, but it felt like a promise and a threat all at once.

"Because I always get what I want."

And then he left, locking the door behind him.

I sat on the bed, my heart racing. Married? To him?

I ran to the balcony, looking down at the high walls, the guards, and the locked gates. There was no way out.

I pressed my hands to the glass, whispering to myself, "I have to get out of here."

But just as I turned back to the room, I froze.

Dante was standing in the doorway, watching me.

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Thinking of escaping already, little dove?"

My breath caught in my throat as he stepped closer.

"You'll learn soon enough," he said, his voice low and dark. "No one leaves me."