Chapter 3 Are You a Virgin

Bella was shoved into the room like a crumpled paper tossed into the trash. Her feet hit the thick carpet, but she barely felt it. The air was heavier than she could breathe. Her trembling eyes scanned the space, searching for an exit, for hope, for anything familiar... but there was nothing.

Pain pulsed in her arms and legs-sharp, throbbing. She gripped her bruised arm with a trembling hand, trying to silence it. But the pain wasn't what broke her focus. It was the man behind the desk. Her eyes lifted to him before she could stop herself.

The moment the office door opened, a wave of silent terror swept in.

The men entered without a word, pushing the kidnapped girls forward. They lined up in quiet submission before Dante Romano's desk.

Dante sat, half-shrouded in smoke from his cigar. His eyes half-closed, watching them. Across from him, Paul was seated, speaking in a tense hush about the upcoming deal-the buyer, the timing, the price.

Dante Romano. His presence alone could send a shiver down the spine. But what terrified Bella most... was his gaze.

He didn't look at her like a captor. Not like a monster. His eyes... drifted, as if lost in a fog. As if he were seeing something behind her. Inside her. Something she didn't understand. Something that made her blood turn cold.

The girls lowered their heads. Their bodies trembled. Tears slid down pale cheeks, silent and helpless. Dread hung over them like a shadow with weight.

Bella's body was failing her. Her eyes-red and raw from endless tears-flicked around like a lost child in a forest of beasts. Her right hand clung to her left arm, shielding the bruise still pulsing beneath her skin.

Dante's gaze rose slowly. His eyes passed over the line of girls until they settled-on her.

That one.

There was something different about her. It wasn't just the fear. It was the way she stood. The hand hiding the faint mark on her pale arm. Barely visible, but his trained eyes didn't miss it.

Nancy. He knew it had to be her work. Cruel, as always.

He looked at her again. Her face was trembling. Her eyes fixed on his, filled with a silent plea. Something about that plea stirred something in him. Something buried.

She didn't know why she looked at him and saw safety. She didn't believe it. But she felt it. Felt that he was the only one in that darkness who could save her... or destroy her completely.

Paul's voice cut through the silence, breaking Dante's train of thought. He rose and approached the girls, tone mechanical as he began collecting information.

"What's your name?"

"How old are you?"

"Where do you live?"

"Are you a virgin?"

The answers came in broken whispers. Barely audible. Heads stayed down, as if too afraid to meet the eyes of fate itself. But the moment the question touched the body-touched that word-"virgin"-the tension in the room thickened like storm clouds. Air turned to smoke. Silence grew sharp.

Then, suddenly-

"Answer me! Now!"

Paul's shout cracked through the room.

When it was her turn, Dante was still watching her. Drawing in his cigar smoke like it was oxygen. Waiting for her voice-like it might unlock something he didn't yet understand.

Paul turned to her, voice harsh.

"What's your name?"

Bella stepped forward, her body shaking as if her limbs didn't belong to her. And finally-her voice broke through. Hoarse. Fractured.

"M... my name is... Bella. Bella Watson..."

Dante's lips parted slightly. He didn't speak. But her name-Bella-rattled inside him like a struck chord. A name echoing from somewhere deep.

Paul continued.

"How old are you?"

Bella answered, barely above a whisper. But the weight of it thundered through the room.

"Sixteen."

Paul stared at her like she'd slapped him.

"What? You're underage?!"

Bella gasped. Her eyes widened. Shock and fear collided across her face. She stepped back, clutching her arms tighter.

"Y... yes, sir..."

Paul spun toward Dante, seeking instruction. But Dante didn't hesitate. His voice came low, sharp, and angry.

"Damn it! Didn't I tell you? No one under eighteen! We can't sell a child!"

Paul raised both hands in defense.

"I told them, but there wasn't time to verify her age before we brought her in..."

Dante stood. Slowly. His steps steady as he walked toward Bella. He stopped directly in front of her. His eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, he felt something strange. A tug. A need he didn't recognize-to wipe the tears from her face.

He turned away and muttered in frustration.

"Fine. The buyer will get nine girls. Replace the tenth with someone from our club."

Paul's brows lifted in surprise.

"And the underage one?"

Dante was silent. He looked at her again. As if trying to decode her face like a painting with too many secrets. Then he said-calmly:

"She stays with me... until she's of age."

The words hit Bella like a whip. Her knees buckled. She collapsed, hands covering her face. Her cry was different from the others. It wasn't fear. It was devastation.

"No... please, no! I don't want to stay here! I want to go home... to my family!"

Dante didn't look at her. A cold, mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He turned to Paul.

"Let's move. The buyer's almost here."

Paul nodded. He signaled the guards to remove the girls. One of them approached Bella, gripping her arm to drag her up.

She screamed. Pulled free.

Then-she ran to Dante. Clutched his arm. Desperate. As if he was her last chance in a drowning world.

Dante froze. Staring at her in disbelief. Just for a second.

The guard stepped forward again, but Bella didn't let go. She held onto his pants, collapsed beside him, holding on with strength she shouldn't have had.

Dante raised a hand, signaling the guard to stop.

Then-to Paul:

"She's not being sold. Replace her. Now."

Paul nodded and left quickly.

Bella didn't move. She stayed glued to him, as if the ground would swallow her whole if she let go. And he... he watched her quietly. His expression unreadable. His eyes trapped somewhere between pity and contempt.

He muttered, voice dry with mockery:

"All right. Enough of the act. I don't have time for drama."

Bella hesitated. Slowly, her hands loosened. She lifted her head. Looked at him again. Her eyes-broken-but pleading.

"Please, sir... please return me to my father... I don't want to be here..."

He looked at her with pure disdain. His upper lip curled in a cold smirk.

Then he gave the order-clear and final:

"Take her. Put her in my room."

Bella screamed. Her cries exploded into the room-loud, broken, hysterical. Her body shook as if a fever had seized her. But Dante didn't flinch. He returned to his chair, lit another cigarette, and watched her be dragged away. Like it was just another scene in a film he'd seen too many times.

A man pulled her by the arm. She cursed, sobbed, fought. But she was dragged. Taken. Into the unknown-into his room.

Paul returned, phone in hand, his face tight with tension. He found Dante leaning against his desk, staring into a smoky haze.

In a low voice, Paul said, "She's been replaced. The buyer's arriving in minutes. We need to prepare."

Dante didn't respond.

He wasn't there anymore.

He was somewhere else-lost in thought, tangled in the voice of a girl who had spoken her name with fear.

Bella.

Paul said nothing. He just sat quietly, watching the man in silence... not sure if what he was seeing was control-or the start of its unraveling.