Darkest Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance

2. CHIARA

As if on cue, the bidders begin shuffling toward the auctioneer, abandoning their conversations as the men they were just talking to suddenly become their greatest competition. As I watch them move around the warehouse, I realize this isn’t just a case of highest bidder takes all. It’s a pissing contest, proving to the elite men around them who has the deepest pockets.

Once everyone is where they need to be, the auctioneer gets on with it. “Standard auction rules apply,” he says into his microphone. “Raise your hand to make a bid. We’re moving up in hundreds with a starting bid of five hundred thousand. No half bids permitted. Once the auction has finished, all winners will be required to make payment within the hour before they will be permitted to collect their prize. We will accept cash or a wire transfer, considering immediate clearance in our account. If you do not possess the funds or cannot arrange payment within the hour, then you are not permitted to bid. Do not waste our time. Otherwise, your name will be blacklisted, and you will not be invited to attend another event.”

He glances around the room, making sure his instructions are received clearly before waving a hand toward the first girl, her nameplate reading Stacey. “Alright, I know you are all eager to get this started. So, without further ado, let’s start the bidding. For our first girl of the night, Stacey, do I hear five hundred thousand?”

“Right here,” someone says, raising their hand. My gaze snaps across the room to find the asshole with the virgin kink eagerly watching the auctioneer. He clearly found what he was looking for.

“Six hundred,” another man responds, prompting the auctioneer to do his thing, his voice like nails on a chalkboard as he seeks new bidders.

Another hand flies up. “Eight.”

“Nine.”

My stomach starts to crawl.

“A million,” the virgin kink asshole fires back.

Fucking hell. I can’t watch.

Spinning around, I grip the bars of my cage, struggling to breathe as I try to block out the auction behind me. Tears well in my eyes as it all becomes too real. I’m being trafficked—sold to a high-end purchaser to do with as they please.

I brace my head against the bars, feeling a panic attack coming on as I will myself to take slow, deep breaths. The thought of these monsters relishing in my tears makes me sick. I need to be stronger than this. I can’t allow them to break me.

The first girl goes for just under two million dollars, and as the word “sold” comes from the auctioneer, I hear the girl let out a pained sob. Knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to help her, I don’t even bother turning around to find her purchaser or to get a look at her face. All it’s going to do is leave me with nightmares.

A tear falls to my cheek as the auctioneer moves on to girl number two, Brittany, and my hands shake violently against the bars, knowing I’m next. The bidding starts, and as I go to wipe my tears away, I feel someone’s stare on my face.

It’s intense, and I lift my teary gaze to the back of the room, and right there, deep in the darkest corner and away from the bidding, I find a man covered in shadows. He’s tall with dark features, Mediterranean maybe. It’s hard to tell from so far away. All I know is that there’s something dangerous about him, something that warns me to run in the opposite direction.

Those dark, piercing eyes seem to penetrate right through me, capturing my stare and holding it hostage. He’s too far away to hold a conversation, but even with this distance, the silence between us is deafening.

My heart races, and he refuses to look away, the intensity growing by the second. He doesn’t try to look at my body, doesn’t try to gauge what kind of fight I’ll put up in bed. He simply stares back at me with those lethal black eyes.

The name Misty rings through the warehouse, and my eyes widen with fear. Breaking my stare away from the scary stranger in the shadows, I whip around, my gaze locked and loaded on the auctioneer.

Men stare at me from all over the room, and my legs quiver as I try to stay still.

“Do I hear five hundred thousand?”

The old fucker with the broken nose grins manically as he raises his hand. “Five hundred thousand. Right here.”

Fuck.

Bile rises in my throat, and if it weren’t for my sheer will to get out of here, I would have let it come out.

“Six hundred,” is heard from across the room, and my eyes whip back and forth, trying to keep track of who’s bidding what.

“Seven.”

“I’ll take the bitch for eight,” broken-nose guy rumbles, his dark gaze shifting back to mine once again. A fucked-up smirk crosses his bloodied face, silently telling me that he’ll take this right to the end just so he can be the one to have the pleasure of ending me.

My stomach sinks with each new bid, and I watch with wide eyes, taking in the slew of twisted men who fix their sick gazes upon my body. I wonder just how much fucking me into submission is worth to them.

“Nine hundred.”

“A million,” Broken Nose throws back, the confidence in his tone making me want to tear his testicles out through his throat and strangle him with them.

“A million, one.”

“A million, two.”

Each new bid tastes like poison on my tongue, and I watch broken-nose guy closely as hesitation begins creeping into his stare. He’s almost at his limit, and that’s proved only a moment later when he raises his hand again. “A million, two fifty.”

The auctioneer shakes his head. “No half bids, Sir. Can you give me a million, three?”

“A million, two fifty,” Broken Nose argues.

“You know the rules of my auction. I’ll accept a million, three. Otherwise, bow out and make room for the real bidders.”

Broken Nose clenches his jaw and glances back at me. Just to rub salt in the wound, I raise my hand to the base of my throat, drawing my thumb across it and signaling just how quickly I’ll end him if he were to win. He narrows his gaze, then raises his hand. “A million, three.”

The auctioneer nods. “Welcome back to the party,” he says before looking around at the crowd. “Do I hear a million, four?”

“Right here,” a new bidder says, raising his hand and making Broken Nose’s eyes widen in outrage, his face turning red with rage.

The numbers continue rising, and I turn in my cage, gripping the bars and resting my head against it, no longer caring who wins. It’s all the same. Whether I go to Broken Nose or some other asshole, they’re all going to treat me the same. I’ll be a prize. Something to destroy. Property to be used.

A shadow falls beside my cage, and I lift my head from the bars to find the intense, strange man I’d seen earlier staring right back at me. His gaze narrows on mine, and I’m struck by just how dark his eyes really are. It’s like staring into two deep pits of hell that beckon me in. There’s no doubt in my mind, this man is the devil.

His gaze falls away, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands still trembling against the bars. It’s as though his stare alone is enough to hold me captive. This man is worse than I could have thought. Seeing him up close like this rattles me to the bone.

He takes just a single step past my cage, and I watch as the men around him hesitantly shuffle away, their sharp gazes quickly morphing into unease. The man raises his head and looks straight at the auctioneer. “This one is mine,” he says in a deep, thick, Romanian accent.

The auctioneer fumbles, his eyes widening as everyone whips around to take in this strange, terrifying man. I watch as the auctioneer glances toward the piece of shit running this show, visibly shaken by the newcomer’s presence. The man who snatched me off the street and put this whole thing together glances down toward my cage, looking over me before turning his sharp stare on this Romanian nightmare.

“We can negotiate in private,” he says. I realize that every last person in this fucked-up underground warehouse knows exactly who this man is. And the fact that he’s shown an interest in me is some kind of big deal—I just wish I knew why.

“No,” the terrifying man says, that thick accent waking something lost deep within me. “I said she is mine. I will take her now.”

My back slams against the bars, and I realize I’ve been backing up to put distance between me and my new owner. While nothing has been formally agreed, I know without a doubt this man will get what he wants.

“O . . . okay,” the piece of shit trafficker says, watching as the Romanian narrows his eyes, the sight making my knees shake. “Yours. She’s yours.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters before glancing back at my cage, this time letting his gaze travel over my body. He starts at my head, taking in every inch of me. The soft curl in my blonde hair, the subtle arch of my back, my tits and waist, right down to the way my ankles hold me up in these ridiculous black heels.

Approval flashes in his eyes, making my stomach clench, and I hesitantly take a step forward into the center of my cage, my eyes locked firmly on his. Just like earlier, I can’t look away. I suck in a breath, every second of this connection growing more intense, more wicked, and more terrifying.

As if on cue, the large security guard who’d stepped in with Broken Nose appears at the door of my cage, and I tear my gaze away from my new Romanian captor. The security guard, who’d so casually disregarded my life, now looks at me with such pity that it almost tears me to shreds. “May God have mercy on your soul,” he murmurs, meeting my stare as he slips the key into the lock and opens the door, his gaze filled with darkness.

Fear pounds through my veins. Only an hour ago, this man was more than happy to allow some asshole to purchase me, to spend their time abusing and destroying me without a fucking care in the world. He didn’t care if I lived or died. But now that this Romanian has claimed me as his own, it somehow warrants him to fear for my soul?

Fuck.

The cage door swings open, and I find myself glancing back at the auctioneer to see the same pitying look in his eyes. Hell, Broken Nose doesn’t even try to put up a fight.

The Romanian dude captures my stare, and the way his eyes burn into mine sends a chill over my skin. “Come to me,” he says in that thick accent, his words penetrating deep into my chest like an agonizing command, summoning my unbreakable obedience.

I swallow hard as the warehouse settles into a chilling silence, every eye in the room watching as I shakily step from my cage, the sound of my heels clicking against the blood-spattered concrete.

I take one step and then another, each daunting move bringing me closer to my undeniable end.

What does this man want with me? Who the hell is he to be able to walk into a room filled with men like this and command authority in such a brutal, unsettling way?

My heart races and my palms sweat, but his ghostly stare draws me in until I’m standing right before him, my whole body shaking with unease. “Understand me now,” he says, his voice so low yet somehow heard throughout the warehouse. “You are mine. You belong to me. There is nowhere you can run or hide. No escape. No freedom. No reprieve. If you follow my rules, you will find life with me quite satisfactory, comfortable even. If you do not, if you refuse me, you will spend every waking hour wishing for death. Is that clear?”

Swallowing hard, I will myself not to crumble and nod my head, knowing without a doubt he means every word he says. The terror has a chokehold on me, and I try to get the words out past the fear weighing me down. “Yes, I understand.”

Those dark eyes blaze, refusing to break away. “What is your name?”

“Chiara,” I tell him, his height and brute size overwhelming me. “Chiara Matthews.”

“This will be the last time you hear the name Chiara Matthews. She no longer exists,” he says, stripping me of my identity with nothing more than a thick Romanian accent. “Forget your old life, scrub it from your memory. Your friends, your family, schooling, or work. Your world revolves around me now. You cater to only me. My every will and desire will be your only priority.”

Fuck.

I nod, the weight on my shoulders making me feel smaller than ever before. I can’t help but wonder if this asshole has a Daddy kink, but I think it might be more than that. He’s not looking for some whore to call him Daddy and act like a brat. This man wants complete submission, and I don’t mean the Fifty Shades type of submission. I’m talking about the real messed-up shit.

This man wants complete ownership. He wants to strip me of my identity to the point where my world no longer exists. My name will be wiped from public record, my life wiped from existence. Those who once knew me will be made to question if I was ever really there. My friends, my work, my life . . . all of it gone, just like that.

He watches me a few seconds longer, daring me to challenge his word, but while I might have the tendency to run my mouth and fly off the handle, I’m not fucking stupid. I know when to argue and when to back down.

Approving of my silence, he gives a curt nod. “Follow me.”

Without another word, the tall stranger turns on his heel and stalks toward the exit, every eye in the room watching him with fearful caution. He doesn’t bother to look back at me. He simply expects that I will follow every last demand given, and that’s exactly what I do. Sticking to his side, I’m spurred on by the idea of finally stepping outside of this wicked warehouse.

We take the stairs, and as we reach the top to find the burly security guard, I can’t help but meet his stare. It’s still so full of pity that I’m forced to look away. The guard opens the door, and I expect my captor to walk straight through it. But when he stops and waves me through, allowing me to pass in front, I’m taken aback. Trusting my situation enough to know nothing is about to happen in the next few seconds, I hesitantly step past him and over the threshold.

His hand drops to my lower back, guiding me through the door as any gentleman would, and my back stiffens at his touch, a shiver sailing over my skin. Trying to ignore it, I step out into the cold winter night, the chilling breeze settling right into my bones.

Quickly glancing around, I take in my surroundings and find us in what looks to be an abandoned industrial estate. Each broken streetlight and run-down building looks as sorry as I feel.

My gaze settles on a black SUV with darkly tinted windows parked right by the door as if waiting for me. I stride toward it, my gaze shifting from left to right, waiting and watching for any chance I have to make my escape.

“You do not want to discover what lies in wait for you if you try to run from me,” he warns, moving in beside me to reach for the door handle of the SUV.

Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I shoot a timid glance at him as he holds the door. “I wasn’t going to.”

His gaze narrows slightly, and it’s clear as day he doesn’t believe me, but instead of calling me out, he nods toward the open door. “Get in.”

I flick my gaze between the door and him, knowing the second I get into his SUV, it’s all over for me. “Who are you?” I ask, waiting only a second before blurting my next question. “Where are you taking me?”

“There will be time for questions when I get you back to my manor,” he explains. “Until then, you will remain silent.” Then with another pointed stare, he indicates for me to get in his SUV, but this time his sharp gaze warns me of my fate if I do not obey immediately.

Not wanting to put my life on the line any more than I already have tonight, I silently slide into the back of the SUV and watch with unease as this mysterious man gets in beside me. He closes the door, and the tension rises in the car.

A tear sails down my cheek, splashing onto my collarbone, and with that, the driver hits the gas. I take a moment to grieve the life I once knew because, from here on out, I’m as good as dead.