“Fine. Is this okay?” I ask, stepping out of the bathroom to show him the outfit. We live in a one-bedroom apartment that costs more than it’s worth, and my bedroom is the sofa. We have very little to no privacy.
“Well, if you weren’t my daughter, I’d pay that much for you.” I try not to throw up from that comment and go back into the bathroom and close the door, making sure to flip the lock. He’s never given me that pedo-incest vibe, but I wouldn’t put anything past him once I’m not worth as much. God, I have to make my escape. I’m not afraid that he’ll come after me, but I am scared shitless that Caesar Avanti will hunt me down even after he kills my father. It’s the only reason I don’t make a run for it.
I look myself over in the mirror and I do look good, but now I get an icky vibe about it. I straightened my long blonde hair and put it up in a tight ponytail on the back of my head, wrapping a braided strand around the tie to add elegance to a quick style. My sexy, vibrant red lipstick is the eight-hour kind that stays on until rubbed off. The only other makeup I add is a voluminous mascara to accentuate my eyes. Hopefully it does the trick. My pimp out there didn’t want me to look overdone because some of these old creeps got a kick out of innocent girl-next-door types.
“Before we leave, put this on.” He hands me a fancy long black jewelry box. I open it up and see a gorgeous teardrop diamond necklace. It’s stunning, shimmering in the light with pure radiance.
“Why can’t you pawn this?” I say, shoving it at him with a little more force than I expected out of myself as disgust fills me.
He grabs my arm roughly, but not hard enough to leave a permanent mark, and then snarls in my face. “Little shit, this is a gift from the host to attract buyers to your rack. Behave and put it on like a good girl,” he hisses, grabbing my hand and slapping the box in it with enough force to sting. I don’t let him know it hurt.
Asshole. I don’t say anything or show any signs that I’m afraid; instead, I slip on the necklace like it’s nothing but a trinket. The diamond teardrop dips like an arrow pointing directly to my cleavage, which is ample in this dress even without a bra. Fuck. I’m going to be sold tonight, even if it’s not for the money he wants. I look expensive.
“Good. Now you look like a pricey commodity.” He winks and clicks his tongue, emphasizing my valuable status. I hate him more than I ever have before, which I didn’t believe possible. I send up a silent prayer that someone will save me from this nightmare, but I know that’s never going to happen. My life has been one terrible year after another to the point of being sold like a piece of property.
“Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste. I want to make sure you are picked up before they run out of money.” I reach for my coat, but he shakes his head. “Not that trash over that dress. I want you on display, looking expensive.”
He hands me my shawl, which isn’t warm enough for the changing weather and the cold front that showed up after the last hurricane warning.
We’re taking his brand-new car that cost one hundred thousand dollars. Who the hell needs an expensive car in the middle of freaking New York City when you live in a shoebox condo that’s seen better days? He can’t hock his precious things, just his daughter’s innocence.
I barely have a light wrap over my shoulders even though it’s the middle of September and the weather’s getting chilly. My teeth chatter as we step out onto the NYC sidewalk outside our condo building. We don’t have a valet or our own parking garage next to the building, so we have to walk to the car. In my high heels and short dress, I look like he just bought me for the night. I get a couple of whistles and a honk before we make it to the car. He’s not even the slightest bit of a gentleman enough to get the door for me, so I gently swing it open, making sure not to hit the curb or I’ll pay big time after the night’s over, and I climb into the passenger seat. “Shit,” I screech; the leather’s practically frozen to my skin. Seeing my instant distress, he flips the heat on because we can’t have me catching a cold before we get there.
“Calm down. You’re acting like a baby.” The way he brushes off my chattering teeth as nothing sends me into a rage I’ve never felt before.
“Says the man fully fucking clothed. How about you put on a dress and see if your balls don’t shrivel up,” I snap out, letting his attitude, the situation, and the cold change my tone. Not only do I have to suffer the indignity of being used, but I have to freeze all the way there.
“Watch your mouth.”
I laugh. This is the only time I’ll get away with saying anything to him. “Why? What are you going to do? It’s not like you’re going to lose out on a huge payday by bruising me up.”
“Just wait until this is all over, and you’ll regret the day you were born,” he says through clenched teeth, itching to beat me.
I roll my eyes. “Been there, done that. Just remember it’s not you I’m afraid of. You’ve hurt me more than anyone else could, but I let those petty sentiments go long ago. It’s the Avanti organization that has me going through this violation because I want to live.”
“You will fear me. Trust me on that.” I sense there’s more to his threat, but I don’t give a shit at the moment.
I roll my eyes again, cross my arms, and twist my torso to look out the window, refusing to acknowledge anything he has to say. With my sudden silence, he pulls out into wall-to-wall traffic. Again, pointless to own a car in this mess.
We’re headed out to Long Island to an estate in the Hamptons. The drive seems to be the absolute quickest in history. I suppose that the whole theory of relativity holds some merit as I brace myself for what’s about to unfold.
We pull into a massive, gated estate that has limos and SUVs lined up one after another, waiting for their turn. When we finally arrive at the front of the line, I’m shaking from the sheer fear of what’s to come. A valet assists me out of the car, and another takes the keys from my father. Another gentleman who arrives at the same time as we do takes an appraising look at me and then says something in another language that I can’t make out, and then we’re escorted up the steps where my father shows our special invitation to be let in. Apparently, they invite people from around the world to this event. I hope the foolish bastard that buys my innocence at least speaks English and isn’t completely ancient, or worse, absolutely gross looking.
As soon as we walk in, my hopes are dashed. Everyone is older than my father; most are old enough to be my grandfather. It doesn’t take long for me to see the truth of my situation, and it takes everything in me to keep the bile down. There are a couple of guys that are better looking than others, but mostly it’s a bunch of ugly, overweight men who probably have wives and kids. I can’t imagine them over me sweating and grunting, touching my body. They’re going to need a bunch of lube to get me wet enough and a lot of alcohol, which I plan to have.
I shudder in revulsion and fear. What am I doing here?
I need to get away from my father and out of this place. I search the room for the exits as my fight-or-flight has kicked in. The chances of me getting away depend on if I can get away from my father. Sensing my change of heart or just not trusting me, he intensifies the already firm grip on my arm that I doubt he’s going to loosen until I’m sold.
I’m trying to keep my head down so that I don’t attract any attention, but my father isn’t having any of that either. He grabs my chin hard, forcefully turning my head to him and whispers, “Keep your head up. No one can see your fucking face. Remember, it’s your head that’s on a platter as well as mine. Now, smile like a good hooker.”
That’s the only reason I’m here, I remind myself. I don’t give a crap if they put a bullet in his head or whatever it is these people do. It’s my life I want to preserve. After this is over, I plan to run and start a life of my own somewhere else far from these evil fuckers. Then his next bailout will have to come from someone else, or he’ll be food for worms.
Fighting back the tears, I decide right there that I’m going to carry m
yself with dignity. After all, it’s just sex, and I’m betting probably very short sex. I straighten my back, stiffen my shoulders, and hold my head up high. I’m going to meet my fate like a warrior.
With lips plump and determination on my face, I scan the room, hoping for a good-looking pervert. That’s when I spot the one man in this place who I wouldn’t mind being whored out to. I’m practically salivating because he’s so good looking. I shouldn’t care because he’s just as foul as the rest of these men, but goodness, my heart’s pounding all the way down to my pussy as if my body’s vibrating.
He’s tall, maybe six four. His broad shoulders scream muscular like he doesn’t wear a suit most days. He’s clearly well built in an all-black suit and tie, and he wears it well. He’s older than me, but not as old as the rest or even my father. From this distance, it’s hard to see if there is gray hair in his thick, slicked-back dark hair.
My eyes just seem to have a mind of their own as I stare at him from head to toe. My behavior is no better than any man in this place, but still, I can’t stop staring at his stern jawline with a hint of stubble coming in that makes me wonder what it would feel like to run my hand over it. I rake my eyes over him, admiring his well-built torso like a woman with experience and hunger. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away.
As I move my attention lower, a specific part of his frame catches my interest. A profound desire pools between my legs. I’m not even sure when I became such a pervert, but I’m staring straight at his cock. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to miss even with the dark suit. My tongue slips out of my mouth, and it’s only after his eyes narrow on me that I realize that I’m eye fucking him. I’ve only heard about and seen eye fucking in movies or read about it in books. It’s intensely wrong and right at the same time, and my body craves more.
Several of the girls are already making their way to him, vying for the prime rib mixed with a bunch of freezer-burned chicken. They’re all thinking the same thing I am. If we’re selling ourselves, we might as well be with a man who doesn’t make us sick to look at. Hell, I might use him as my fantasy because there’s no way he’d pick me with all those beautiful women clamoring to get closer to him.
A waiter passes by and smiles at me. I smile politely back and refuse the drink he’s offering. “A drink, my pet?” he asks, attempting to flirt with me. I shake my head a second time. Earlier I thought I wanted something to calm my nerves, but now I want my head clear so I can record the memory of the stranger perfectly in my mind.
My father ignores my refusal, snatches a wine glass off the tray, and hands me the drink. “Drink. It’ll calm your ass down.” I take it and close my eyes and hold my nose, drinking it down in one long swig. It tastes funky, but at least it’s over with.
Strangely, I want another drink. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get to make it through the night. When I turn my attention to the sexy beast, he’s scowling at me, proving that I’ve gotten my hopes up for nothing. He’s pissed that I’ve even turned my gaze onto him again. Fuck it.
I turn around and I’m immediately greeted by a guy a lot less attractive, and of course his eyes are running up and down my body. He has to be in his late fifties or early sixties, balding and pudgy around the middle. “How much are you going for?”
A waiter passes by and I steal another glass, drinking it before he can walk away. I set it on the tray, reaching for another when my father pushes my hand down forcefully. “Be on your way,” he informs the server.
I don’t know what to say to the man waiting for an answer because I’m not interested, but my father answers for me. “Five hundred K.”
My stomach lurches at the idea of him being the one to steal my virginity. He reaches out, cuffing my bicep. “I’ll take—"
“Your fucking hands off of her right now if you want to take another damn breath.” I look up to see the scowling sexy bastard from earlier. He’s glaring at the spot where the guy’s hand is on my arm. He tugs me out of the guy’s grip before the man has a chance to let go.
He grabs my hand and leads me away from both men. My hand tingles in a flush of electricity so profound that I hold tight and I don’t want to let go. Another man with a hint of grey at his temples arches his brow, giving him a strange look, but all my captor does is nod and the man’s expression changes. They share a brief conversation, but I don’t hear anything except the pounding of my own heart. The wine must be going to my head or maybe it’s his touch—either way, I feel euphoric.
He doesn’t say a word as we walk quickly upstairs and then down a corridor.
“Excuse me, but where are you taking me?” I ask foolishly. Obviously, he wants to get what he’s paying for. Suddenly I hate him, and yet I want him at the same time. How is that even possible? He’s my best option, and yet I know that I’m nothing but a conquest on his belt. He must have some serious issues to pay that much money for a virgin. It’s not like I’m going to be any good.
“To bed,” he bites out through clenched teeth without slowing his movements.
“But…” I stammer, unsure of what to say. I’m not sure what I expected, but something about him gives me hope that this won’t be a bad experience. So far, he’s stiff and seems angry at me like I’m the one forcing him, while I’m being dragged along.
He stops in front of a door where another man in a suit stands. Shit—he’s not going to invite that man to have me too? “Make sure no one tries to get in here. I want privacy.” He opens it and leads me inside.
“But…”
“But what? You want that money given to your handler, right?” he asks, slamming the door closed and leaning on it as if I’m going to escape.
“I do, but…”
He locks the door and then walks over to the bar, pouring a glass of a dark liquid and then taking it over to a large chair in the corner of the room. “Speaking of butts—strip.” A low grunt escapes his throat as he rakes his eyes over my body. His stern voice demands I comply while my own need screams for me to submit. Who is this woman, and what happened to the prude I used to be?
“I’ve never done this before,” I tell him as I grab the strap of my dress.
He scoffs. “I sure as fucking hope not or there’s going to be a lot of dead bodies around.” Of course he’d be pissed since he spent a fortune on my virginity. “What’s your name?”
“Dove Falcone. And you?” I’m sure he’s not going to tell me so as not to create a familiarity between us, and yet I need to know, although I can’t explain why it’s important.
“Victor Serrano. From this moment on, you’re going to do everything I say.” A shiver runs through me in the most delightful way, even though I know it’s wrong—so wrong.
3
Victor
I take the steps up the wide staircase at a light jog when the insane urge returns and becomes unbearable. Something in me begs me to investigate the electricity that jolts toward me when I see her, but still I ignore it. There’s nothing here for me, and most certainly not something I’d pay to have. I didn’t come here to buy a young lady’s virginity, I remind myself. I think it’s fucking disgusting, but I came to make a deal with one of the Italian mobsters in America. A criminal who’s willing to sell her to the most eager old dick.
Shaking my head, the thought of someone else touching her only adds to my fury at this entire situation.
I scan the crowd, looking for her as a group of young ladies stare in my direction, inching closer. I can tell what they’re thinking; unfortunately, they’re going to be sorely disappointed. I’m the youngest man in the room and considered the most handsome by far, but I’m not interested.
Finally, my eyes land on my little beauty in a cheap black dress again; I’m floored by the desire she stirs in me. Suddenly, an idea strikes that I can use to justify my actions—she’ll be the one to give me heirs.
I watch and grow more and more furious at the scene before me. The way her fucking pimp has his hand on her chin and then forces her to
drink pisses me off. I’m already halfway there when a stupid fucker dares to put his hands on her. He touches what belongs to me. I could kill him, and that makes me angrier. Where has this possessive rage come from? Why her? She’s beautiful and sexy, but she’s probably ten years younger than me. She’d be better off with Hector. I growl at that idea, immediately dismissing it as I irrationally get pissed at my brother.
Enraged, I rip her from their grasps and signaled to Fernando, who’s standing guard at the edge of the steps, to come. “Pay them what you must.” He looks at me with curiosity but quickly stifles any questions he has.
“Yes, sir.” He nods and leaves to make the deal. One of Avanti’s men approaches. “Sir, you must know there are other bidders for her. If you do not seal the deal tonight, so to speak, she may be bought out from under you.”
I grab him by the collar and snarl. “She’s mine.” He nods and backs off. I’m not in my home country, or I’d just put a bullet in his head and move along.
I rush her back to my suite. I had no intentions of fucking anyone, but now that she’s got me fucking for money, and learning that if I don’t take what I paid for that someone will snatch her away, changes my intentions. I’m going to make sure I get my fill of her before I leave.
She looks so nervous, but that’s not my problem. She shouldn’t have looked at me with those “fuck me” eyes, and she sure as fuck did. I didn’t miss the way she unconsciously licked her lips when she first spotted me. The thought of someone else buying her sets my teeth on edge so intensely that it forced my hand.
She wants to talk, but I can’t stop the need to mark my motherfucking territory. The second that bastard offered for her, I was filled with blood-red fury. She’s mine, and I’m going to make sure of it. “I said strip.” I’m forceful with her because she’s willing to sell her pussy for money. If we’d met anywhere else, I might have taken this slower, but those sons of bitches downstairs aren’t going to swoop in and take her from me.
Stolen Dove: Stolen Hearts Series Page 4
