The Bargained-Away Virgin: A Flower for the Don

Juliette's POV:

"Let me go!" I shouted while two men dragged me out of the pharmacy.

"You won't ever steal again," said the taller man as he pulled me hard.

People walked past us on the street, but nobody dared to get involved with Don Vito Lucchese's men.

"We'll use this girl as a warning!" the shorter man exclaimed as he took off his belt.

Four people stopped nearby to watch when the man in the black suit lifted his arm. I drew back and prepared myself for the belt to strike my skin... but it never came. When I looked up, I saw the taller man walking toward the Ferrari.

"Stand up!" The man holding me yanked me onto my feet.

They dragged me over to the Ferrari. As the window lowered farther, I saw the man who controlled this city.

Don Vito Lucchese was seated in the back. His light brown hair rested over his forehead, perfectly in place.

"What happened?" Vito asked, touching his firm jaw, where a faint scar marked his cheek.

"Boss, we caught this girl stealing from the pharmacy."

"Is that true?" Vito asked in a deep voice. His sharp, unreadable eyes studied me so closely that anyone would have struggled to meet his stare.

"Yes, sir," his henchman replied.

"Be quiet!" Vito snapped. "I want the girl to admit it herself."

I lowered my head and stared at my worn leather shoes.

"Did you steal?" Don Vito asked, louder this time.

I only nodded. I had tried to buy medicine for my mother, but the price was too high. While the pharmacist helped another customer, I tried to leave quietly with the medicine, but another employee caught me and held me there until Don Vito's men came.

"Why did you do it, girl?" Vito asked.

The sound of the Ferrari door opening reached my ears, and a cold shiver immediately ran through my body.

"Look at me!" the most feared man in the province instructed.

My heart hammered against my chest as a pair of polished black Oxford shoes came into view. Before I had the chance to raise my head, I felt his long fingers close around my face. His thumb and forefinger pressed against my jaw and forced my head up until I was looking directly into his eyes.

As frightened as I was, I didn't look away. Dressed in a light gray suit that fit him perfectly, the man drew attention without even trying. He didn't need to say a word for people to notice him. The slight lean of his body and the intimidating presence surrounding him made one thing obvious. He was a man who was completely in control.

---

Don Vito Lucchese's POV:

"My God..." I muttered as I looked into the girl's striking ice-blue eyes.

A delicate nose sat perfectly between her high cheekbones. Her black hair hung loose around her face.

"What did she steal?" I asked while studying her closely, trying to get to the truth.

"It was medicine, sir!"

"What was it for?"

"It was for my mother..." she replied with a stammer. "I couldn't afford the medicine."

"So you decided that stealing was acceptable?"

Her long dark lashes fluttered several times, but she didn't answer.

"Don't ever steal in my city again!" I said firmly as I tightened my hold on her face. "And I don't want to see you around here anymore. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

My fingers pressed more firmly against her pale skin while my eyes lingered on her well-shaped lips.

"Don Vito, we should make sure she learns her lesson," Ricardo suggested.

Damn it. Ruining a face like that would be a waste. I already had something else in mind for a girl with looks like hers.

"Enough!" I snapped. "Put her in the car." Then I let go of her chin and took a step back.

"No!" she cried out and struggled as Ricardo and Miguel dragged her away.

---

Juliette's POV:

Three weeks later...

The sound of footsteps creaking across the worn wooden floor told me he was coming. Each step landed with a heavy thud that echoed through the house like a warning of the nightmare waiting for me.

"The little rat is hiding in her hole again, isn't she?" Gaspar's voice was already thick with alcohol.

I didn't need to see the faint light slipping through the gap beneath the door to know he was outside. The cramped room was already filling with the smell of liquor mixed with stale cigarette smoke.

"Where are you, little rat?"

Curled up in a corner, I crawled farther across the room and tried to disappear into the shadows. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I made myself as small as possible. Fifteen days had passed since my mother died and left me alone with this horrible man. The medicine Don Vito had given us hadn't been enough to save her.

"Trying to hide from me?" Gaspar growled as he stumbled into the room and steadied himself against the wall. "Come over here to Daddy, little rat!"

My eyes drifted shut, and the only thing I could think about was a promise my mother had made years ago...

Back then, I was twelve years old and foolish enough to believe in a better future. I believed in the father who was supposed to take care of us in Italy. My mother had promised me happiness when she took me away from our quiet life in southern France. The years slipped by, and when I turned eighteen, illness took her from me. The groan of the door handle pulled me back to the reality I couldn't escape.

"I know you're here, little rat!" Gaspar called out as he moved through the room. His voice grew closer with every step. "You're eighteen now. It's time you learned what a man wants from a woman."

Fear tightened around me when his large hands grabbed me roughly and dragged me out from the shadows as if I weighed nothing.

No scream left my mouth, but panic rose inside me and made it hard to breathe.

All I could do was avoid looking at him. I fixed my eyes on the broken dresser or stared into empty space, hoping everything would be over quickly.

"Please..."

I knew begging wouldn't change anything, but I still held on to the smallest hope that some trace of humanity remained in the man my mother once believed in. A cruel smile spread across his face, and the sight of it made my stomach turn.

Without any care, Gaspar threw me onto the mattress and held me down with his weight. "You worthless little whore! You're just as cold and useless as your mother!" he hissed, dragging her memory into it. "But you're going to pay for it, girl. You'll pay me back for everything I've spent taking care of you all these years!" His hands tugged roughly at my blouse while the cold air brushed against my skin.

"No, I don't want this!" I responded, shaking my head as I squeezed my eyes shut. "Help!" I screamed.

Julliete's POV:

Slap! A sharp sting spread across my face, and my ear rang from the impact.

"Shut up, slut," Gaspar said angrily.

My hand moved to my burning cheek, and I kept my eyes away from him.

"Help me..." I whispered.

At once, Gaspar covered my mouth with his hand and cut off my cries.

"Calm down. It'll be uncomfortable at first..." he said in a rough voice. "After that, you'll get used to it."

The sound of a belt buckle and a zipper reached my ears as he tried to move closer. Desperation took over, and I struggled against him. His size made him difficult to fight, but the alcohol had left him slow and unsteady.

Fear pushed me to keep fighting beneath his weight. With all the strength I had left, I bit down on his shoulder until I tasted blood.

"You little bitch!" Gaspar shouted.

Gaspar grabbed me and threw me against the wall. Pain shot through me as the impact made my head spin. For a moment, everything blurred, and I nearly lost consciousness.

I didn't know how long I had stayed in that state, but the moment I felt his weight over me again, my senses came rushing back.

"Just be a good girl. I won't hurt you," Gaspar said in a harsh voice. "Come on. You'll like this." He gestured with that revolting thing. "Relax. You'll get used to it."

Without warning, three loud knocks echoed from the front door.

Gaspar immediately stopped moving. Light from the window fell across his thin, hollow face.

"Open the door, Gaspar, or we'll set this house on fire with you still inside!" a man shouted. "We're here on Don Vito Lucchese's orders."

The name alone sent a shiver through me. Vito Lucchese was one of the most powerful mafia bosses in southern Italy, a place known for mafia influence.

"Damn it!" Gaspar cursed. "Stay here... I'll come back, and then we'll finish our little game of cat and mouse," he added with a malicious smile before leaving the door slightly open.

Tears ran down my face as I crawled into a corner.

I forced myself to calm down while my eyes searched every part of the room for a way out.

"Mr. Gaspar, we're not here to waste time!" someone called from downstairs in a distinct Neapolitan accent.

"No!" That voice belonged to one of Don Vito's men.

"My boss wants his money today!" another man said in a deep voice.

"I don't have it right now, but I'll have it tomorrow," Gaspar muttered, trying to bluff his way out.

A heavy crash suddenly sounded from downstairs, followed by Gaspar's pained groans. It was obvious they were beating him.

"I have a proposal for Don Lucchese!" My stepfather's voice was filled with desperation.

Everything went quiet for a moment before Gaspar spoke again.

"My stepdaughter is a beautiful French girl with blue eyes like the sky, black hair, and porcelain skin. She just turned eighteen, and she's still untouched!" Gaspar said, offering me to those mobsters as if I were nothing more than an object.

I could still remember my mother holding Gaspar's hand three weeks earlier and making him promise that he would look after me and keep me safe. It didn't take that disgusting man long to break his word.

"She can work at Vito's club!" Gaspar continued. "Men will pay a lot of money for a virgin girl."

Anger quickly pushed aside my fear. My mother had brought me to Italy because she promised me a better life, yet now I was being treated like something that could be bought and sold. I refused to accept it.

"You, go call the boss from the car," one of the mobsters said to another man.

"Take this picture of her." Gaspar was the one who said it.

He must've taken the only framed photograph I had, the one where my mother and I were together.

After that, all I could hear were footsteps, laughter, and quiet conversations in Neapolitan that I couldn't fully understand.

"Don Vito agreed, but he wants the virgin girl brought to his house," another henchman chimed in.

I slipped out of the room barefoot, dressed in torn clothes.

"Bring the girl here, Gaspar!"

"She's not here, Gianni." My stepfather lied. "She's staying with her sick grandmother for a few days."

"What a bastard!" I pondered with a scowl. I had spent my entire life in France and had never even met my grandmother.

"I'll come back tomorrow for the girl..." This time, I recognized Gianni's voice. "I'm sure Don Vito will want proof that she's really a virgin. For your sake, she better be."

"She is!" Gaspar replied immediately.

"Let's go..." Gianni instructed the others.

Before my stepfather could come back upstairs, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

"Come out, little rat!" he shouted. "I'll teach you a few things with that mouth of yours that Don Vito will appreciate."

Tears rolled down my face as I sat on the bathroom floor. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I tried to keep my sobs quiet. Somehow, I had to find a way out.

"Open this door, little rat!" he yelled. His fists slammed against the wood again and again.

____________________________

Don Vito Lucchese's POV:

The ice cubes shifted and clinked against the sides of my whiskey glass.

From where I sat, I looked out over the city below. The countless lights stretched into the distance, another reminder that all of it belonged to my territory.

For a brief second, my attention landed on the scar across my face. A moment later, my gaze dropped to the tattoos covering my forearms, hiding the marks left by cigarette burns.

"Boss!" Gianni called from outside the door.

"Damn it, just come in already," I said without looking back.

The door swung open. Gianni never made much noise when he entered a room. He simply appeared. That was one of the reasons he was among my most trusted enforcers.

"Old Gaspar finally gave in, boss," Gianni said as he set an envelope on the mahogany desk. "The debt will be paid with the virgin girl."

That virgin girl wasn't meant for the club. To me, she was an investment.

"Is she attractive?" I asked before taking another sip of whiskey.

"Take a look for yourself, sir."

Slowly, I turned around while Gianni walked toward me with a picture frame in his hand.

"Ricardo and Miguel have already seen her too," he added.

A faint smile appeared on my lips when I recognized the same girl who had stolen medicine from the pharmacy a few days earlier. In the photograph, she was standing in a lavender field beside an older woman who shared those same striking blue eyes.

"Does her mother know about this?" I asked as I glanced at Gianni from the corner of my eye.

"She passed away a few days ago," Gianni replied in a flat tone without adding anything else. "Like always, Gaspar was drunk and smelled like alcohol and filth."

"Did you bring the girl?" I asked.

After setting the picture frame on the desk, I took another drink of whiskey and waited for his answer.

"Gaspar told us she was staying with her sick grandmother," Gianni replied.

My eyes remained on the photograph lying on the desk. The virgin girl's eyes were a vivid shade of blue, as clear as the sky, standing out against her dark hair.

That kind of beauty was rare in this city. Unlike the girls working at the club, she wasn't hidden beneath layers of makeup. She looked innocent.

"I don't recall ever seeing this girl around the city," I said as I continued assessing the asset.

"She's from France."

"How old is she?" I asked, meeting Gianni's gaze.

"She turned eighteen not long ago."

I drained the rest of my whiskey, placed the glass on the desk, and gave my instructions.

"Go back to Gaspar's house and bring the virgin girl to me immediately."

"But she's staying with her grandmother!"

"Take Gaspar with you and make him show you exactly where that place is."

"Yes, boss!"

"Also, make sure everyone involved understands that the girl belongs to me. I won't tolerate anyone touching what's mine." The warning wasn't meant for Gianni. It was directed at the other scumbags working under me.

"Understood, boss."

I waved my hand, signaling that he could leave. Once he was gone, I looked back at the photograph, eager to be the first man to claim the virgin girl.

Juliette's POV:

My eyes went to the window, and I rushed toward it before Gaspar could break through the door. I didn't care where I ended up. I only needed to find somewhere fate wouldn't be as cruel as my stepfather or Don Vito Lucchese.

I managed to climb out the window barefoot and dressed in torn clothes just as Gaspar started forcing the bathroom door open.

I kept running. How long I ran, I couldn't tell, but fear pushed me forward. The cold air struck my skin, yet it felt weaker than the thought of my stepfather hurting me and then handing me over to the Don.

Around a corner, I stumbled over the uneven sidewalk and tried to hide myself in the dark. The village looked dim and empty, and its winding paths felt like a maze meant to trap me.

Then a bright headlight suddenly shone over me.

Almost at the same time, four shadows stepped into view. The moment I recognized two of Don Vito's men, I turned to run the other way, but they moved too fast.

One of them blocked me without effort. His hand closed around my arm, and pain shot straight through the bone.

"Stop, girl," he said quietly.

Gaspar's cruelty was messy and driven by alcohol, but these men were different. They were calm, careful, and used to violence.

"Good riddance, you little pest!" my drunken stepfather sneered.

"Bastard!" I spat at Gaspar in Italian, refusing to lower my head. "Go to hell!"

They shoved me into the car the same way they had when I tried to steal medicine from the pharmacy. I fell onto the leather seat, trapped between two henchmen I already recognized. This time, Don Vito wasn't there to stop them from hurting me.

"Welcome, girl!" the shorter one said as his fingers brushed my face.

"Miguel, touch her again, and I'll burn your fingers," replied the older man as he glanced through the rearview mirror.

"Come on, Gianni, let us have a little fun with her," the taller one said, reaching toward me.

I folded my arms over myself and pulled the fabric closer to cover my chest. Before the man could touch me, the car stopped hard. Gianni turned around and punched the larger man twice.

"Relax. Ricardo was only joking," Miguel said, trying to speak up for his companion.

Once Gianni cooled off, he stepped out of the car, pulled Ricardo outside, and threw him onto the middle of the road. After that, he got back into the vehicle and dropped into the driver's seat.

"Keep your hands off the girl!" Gianni shouted at the man sitting beside me.

The car quickly pulled away. Through the window, I watched the village fade from sight. One prison was behind me, but another one waited ahead, far more powerful than the last.

Eventually, we arrived at an underground garage.

They ordered me out of the car. Gianni took hold of my arm and led me toward an elevator surrounded by mirrors. My reflection stared back at me. Torn clothes. Red, tired eyes.

When the elevator doors slid open, Gianni guided me through a quiet hallway. Huge windows lined the corridor, giving a wide view of the city below.

We kept walking until he opened a door and revealed an enormous room.

The first thing I noticed was the figure standing near the window. His broad shoulders stood out beneath a black silk shirt.

"The girl you requested is here, sir," Gianni remarked.

Vito didn't turn immediately. He spent another moment looking out at the city as if he were finishing some private business with it. Only then did he slowly turn his head.

Even with the scar on his face, there was something striking about him. My eyes dropped lower, and I noticed that his sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms that I hadn't seen before.

His gray eyes seemed to pull in the dim light around them. They moved over me from head to toe, taking in my torn blouse, the dirt on my clothes, and my bare feet. He was examining me the same way someone would inspect merchandise.

The blank look in his eyes disappeared for a moment. He narrowed them slightly before giving a nod. Gianni took the hint and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Come here, piccina," Don Vito Lucchese said.

"No!"

He straightened up and walked toward me.

"From this moment on, you follow my rules. And the first one is obedience."

"Rules?" Fear mixed with anger inside me. "I never agreed to anything with you. A drunk sold me like I was an object. You don't have any rights over me."

"Your father owed me."

"I don't belong to you!" I shouted in French.

He moved closer to me. Instantly, I backed away and prepared myself for a slap, a scream, or the kind of uncontrolled rage I knew too well. Every muscle in my body tightened.

"You belong to me now," Vito replied. A slight curve touched his lips as he answered in French.

"You're no different from Gaspar. You're a monster too!" I yelled. The words came from a reckless burst of courage that rose from the fear and pain I carried.

"You have no idea how much worse I am," he said as he closed the distance between us.

Slowly, he raised a hand. Without thinking, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the hit to come. My entire body braced itself for the pain I had learned to expect.

Instead, his touch was surprisingly gentle. His fingers settled beneath my chin and slowly lifted my face. His hand felt cold and rough against my skin. A tremor ran through my body, and I couldn't stop shaking.

"Open your eyes, ragazza," he said in a firm, commanding voice.

______________________

Don Vito Lucchese's POV:

"Oh my God!"

Fear filled her beautiful face, and a large bruise stood out against her skin. The moment I noticed the injury on her shoulder, I let go of her chin. Without my hand supporting her, she nearly lost her balance.

"Gianni!" I called to the man waiting outside the room.

"Yes, boss," he replied as he immediately stepped inside.

"Who did this to her face and shoulder?" I asked, pointing at the girl.

"She already had those bruises when I found her out on the street."

"Was your father responsible for this?" I asked her again.

"Gaspar is my stepfather."

"That doesn't matter," I said as my fist slammed against the table. My patience was running out. "Was he the one who did this?"

The girl didn't answer, but the tears running down her cheeks gave me all the answers I needed.

"Bring Gaspar to me," I instructed. "I want him alive."

"Yes, boss!" Gianni left at once to carry out my orders.

The room was filled with expensive decorations, yet none of them drew attention the way the small French girl did. She stood there with her arms crossed, trying to hide her black bra.

"Don't make the mistake of defying me again, girl." While speaking, I headed toward the door. "Dinner will be brought here. Eat something and get some rest."

After leaving the room, I shut the door behind me. My hand clenched into a fist so tightly that it began to go numb.

"What if this girl isn't really a virgin?" The thought suddenly entered my mind. "What if Gaspar already..." The idea stopped the moment I glanced back toward the French girl. She was injured. She was beautiful. And she had nobody looking out for her. "And if..."

No. Gaspar knew exactly what would happen if he lied to me. I would've hunted him down and destroyed him no matter where he ran.