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."

Dante's eyes were locked on me, dark and unreadable.

I froze near the balcony, my fingers still pressed to the glass door. My heart hammered in my chest.

"I wasn't," I started, but my voice shook.

"Thinking of escaping?" His tone was calm but every word felt like a warning. He stepped closer, slow and controlled like a predator approaching his prey. "Do you think I'm stupid, little dove?"

"I wasn't going to run," I lied.

Dante's jaw tightened. He stopped right in front of me, towering over me. His presence was overwhelming making it hard to breathe.

"You're bad at lying," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. "But don't worry. You'll learn the rules soon enough."

I stepped back, but he caught my wrist, pulling me closer.

"Let me go," I whispered.

His grip tightened just enough to remind me he was stronger. His face was so close to mine now, his breath warm against my cheek.

"Do you know what happens to people who betray me, Isabella?" His voice was low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

"They disappear."

My stomach twisted with fear.

But then, something strange happened. His hand softened around my wrist. His thumb brushes my skin gently. His tone changed, softer and almost protective.

"But you..." His eyes darkened and he leaned closer, his lips near my ear. "You're too precious to break."

A strange heat rose inside me and I hated myself for feeling it.

He released me, turning toward the door.

"Get some rest," he ordered. "Tomorrow we'll be getting married."

"I don't want to marry you," I said, my voice trembling but firm.

He turned back, his expression unreadable. Then slowly, he smirked.

"You'll thank me one day."

And then he left, locking the door again.

I sat on the bed hugging my knees. My mind was a mess.

Married? To Dante Moretti?

I stared at the locked door thinking about escape. But outside the balcony guards with guns patrolled the grounds. There was no way out.

I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.

Who was Dante Moretti? The man who just bought me for ten million dollars? The man who killed without hesitation? Or the man who brushed my wrist like he cared?

I didn't know which scared me more.

At some point I fell asleep, my heart still racing.

I woke up to the sound of the door unlocking.

A woman walked in. Tall, dressed in black, her hair in a tight bun.

"Mr. Moretti sent me," she said. "I'm here to get you ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For your wedding of course."

My stomach turned. "I'm not marrying him."

She gave me a cold look. "You don't have a choice."

Before I could answer, two more women came in carrying dresses. One was a white lace gown.

"No," I said, stepping back. "I won't wear that."

The tall woman's eyes hardened. "If you refuse, Mr. Moretti will dress you himself. Is that what you want?"

My face heated. "Fine," I snapped. "I'll wear it."

The women helped me dress. The gown was beautiful but felt heavy, like chains made of silk.

When they were done, I stood in front of the mirror. For a second, I didn't recognize myself.

I looked like a bride... but not a happy one.

The door opened again and Dante walked in.

I froze.

He was in a black suit, perfectly tailored, his dark hair styled back. He looked like a king. Dangerous, powerful, untouchable.

His eyes scanned me slowly and for the first time, I saw something different in them. Admiration.

"You look beautiful," he said simply.

I crossed my arms glaring at him. "This isn't a real wedding."

He smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, it's very real, little dove."

"I don't love you," I said.

He tilted his head, studying me. "Love is a luxury. All I need from you is obedience."

My heart pounded harder. "And if I say no?"

His smirk faded, his jaw tightening.

"Then I'll make you say yes."

Before I could answer, he reached for my hand. His touch was firm, his fingers wrapping around mine.

"Let's go," he said. I had no choice but to follow him.

The ceremony wasn't in a church. It was in a grand hall inside his mansion, filled with men in black suits and women in expensive dresses.

Everyone stood when Dante entered pulling me beside him.

I felt their eyes on me, some curious, some jealous, some full of hatred.

An old man in a suit acted as the officiator.

"Do you, Dante Moretti, take Isabella Romano as your wife?"

Dante didn't hesitate. "I do."

The officiator turned to me. "And do you, Isabella Romano..."

"I don't," I said before he could finish.

Gasps filled the room.

Dante turned to me slowly, his eyes darkening.

"Say it," he ordered, his voice low.

I shook my head. "No."

The room went silent.

Then Dante leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.

"Say it or I'll kiss you right here in front of everyone until you do."

I glared at him. "You wouldn't."

His dark smile sent chills down my spine. "Try me."

The officiator looked nervous. "Miss Romano?"

My hands trembled. I wanted to scream, to run, to fight. But Dante's grip on my hand tightened and became firm.

"I... I do," I whispered finally.

A satisfied smirk touched his lips.

"Good girl," he murmured.

The officiator smiled awkwardly. "You may now kiss the bride."

Before I could protest, Dante pulled me to him, his lips crashing against mine.

I pushed him away and he gave me a cold smile. His eyes are locked with mine.

"You're mine now," he whispered.

The ceremony ended and Dante led me away, his hand never leaving mine.

But as we walked back to the mansion, a man in the crowd caught my eye. He was staring at me with something strange in his gaze. Fear? Warning?

When our eyes met he mouthed one word:

Run.

I froze, my heart pounding.

But before I could react, Dante's arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Don't even think about it," he said softly, his voice dark and possessive.

I looked up at him, my stomach twisting with fear and something else I didn't want to name.

Because for the first time, I realized something terrifying.

Maybe I didn't want to run.

The room was quiet, but my heart wasn't. It pounded so loudly I was sure Dante could hear it.

We had just returned from the ceremony. My hand was still in his, his grip firm and possessive, like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go.

He pushed the door to my room open, leading me inside. But something felt different now. This wasn't just my room anymore. It was our room.

I turned to him, my voice sharp even though my chest felt tight. "You got what you wanted. We're married. Can I be alone now?"

Dante stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The sound felt final, dangerous.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned against the door, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"Do you think marriage to me means sleeping in separate rooms, little dove?"

My breath caught.

"No," I said quickly. "I'm not doing this. You can't force me-"

In a flash, he was in front of me, his hand cupping my chin, tilting my face up to meet his. His touch was firm, but his thumb brushed my cheek so gently it confused me.

"Relax," he murmured. "If I wanted to take you, I already would have."

I swallowed hard, my heart skipping at his words.

"Then what do you want from me?" I whispered.

His gaze softened just slightly, but his tone stayed low, dangerous.

"Obedience. Trust. And for you to understand one thing-I protect what's mine. Always."

"I'm not yours," I whispered, even though the ring on my finger told me otherwise.

His lips curled into a slow, dark smile. "Keep telling yourself that."

He stepped back slightly, his eyes roaming over me, taking in every detail of the white lace gown I still wore.

"You look beautiful in white," he said, his voice deeper now, huskier. "But I wonder how you'd look in nothing at all."

My cheeks burned hot. "Stop saying things like that."

"Why? Because it makes you nervous? Or because you like it more than you want to admit?"

I glared at him, but my body betrayed me-my hands trembled, and I couldn't hold his stare for long.

He stepped closer again, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my gown. Slowly, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheek.

My breathing quickened.

"Don't worry, little dove," he murmured, his lips close to my ear. "I'm not going to touch you tonight. Not until you beg me to."

I gasped softly, my heart racing so fast it hurt.

"I'll never beg you," I said, though my voice didn't sound convincing.

He chuckled, low and dark. "We'll see."

Then, without warning, he pulled away completely, leaving me cold and confused.

"Get some sleep," he said, walking toward the door.

"You're leaving?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He turned, one eyebrow raised, that dangerous smirk back on his lips.

"Why? Do you want me to stay?"

"No!" I said quickly, my cheeks heating again.

He opened the door but paused.

"Lock it if you want," he said. "But remember, you're my wife now. You're safest when I'm near."

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

I collapsed onto the bed, my hands clutching the sheets.

What was happening to me? Why did his touch feel like fire and his words feel like chains I didn't want to break free from?

I didn't sleep. Hours passed, but my mind wouldn't stop racing.

Finally, I sat up and walked to the balcony. The night air was cool, and the guards still patrolled below.

Then I noticed something strange.

A shadow moved behind the hedge near the wall. A man stepped forward, glancing around nervously. When he spotted me, he gestured quickly, pointing to something on the balcony railing.

I looked down and saw a small folded piece of paper. My heart pounded as I grabbed it, opening it carefully.

There were only three words written inside:

"Trust no one."

I looked back at the man, but he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Trust no one? Did that mean... even Dante?

My chest tightened. I crumpled the paper, hiding it under my pillow.

I couldn't let him see it.

The door burst open suddenly, making me jump.

Dante stormed in, his suit jacket gone, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing the hard lines of his chest. His hair looked messier now, his eyes burning with anger.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly.

"Someone tried to get into my property tonight," he said, his tone clipped, furious. "A traitor is among my men."

My stomach twisted. Could it have been the man who left the note?

Dante moved closer, his jaw tight. "Did anyone come to see you? Did anyone talk to you?"

I froze, clutching the sheets.

His dark eyes searched my face. "Isabella. Look at me."

I looked up slowly, trying to keep my face calm.

"Tell me the truth," he demanded.

"I-I didn't talk to anyone," I said. It wasn't a full lie. I hadn't talked to the man. But I had seen him.

Dante studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped closer, crouching in front of me, his hand lifting my chin gently.

"I'll protect you, little dove," he said softly, almost like a promise. "But if you lie to me, if you ever keep something from me, I won't forgive it."

My heart pounded.

"I'm not lying," I whispered.

He stared into my eyes for what felt like forever before finally standing.

"Good," he said simply. "Because from now on, you never leave this room without me."

He turned to leave, but before he stepped out, he looked back, his expression softer now.

"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, you start learning how to be my wife."

When the door closed, I collapsed back onto the bed, my hands shaking.

The note under my pillow burned like fire.

Trust no one.

But as I lay there, my chest tight, one question haunted me more than anything.

What if that meant... not even Dante?