Auctioned to the Mafia Boss (Sold to the Naughtier List #4)

Chapter 1

RENZO

Itake another sip of whiskey, welcoming the burn in the back of my throat. At least some part of me still feels something. The rest of me is numb and jaded, especially when I’m in places like this.

The Lucky Lion Lodge isn’t just an exclusive gentlemen’s club; it’s a discreet venue for the most elite – and deplorable – men to host any kind of event.

I do mean any kind, including illegal auctions that exploit vulnerable women.

I may be one of the most powerful crime bosses in Chicago, but even I have a set of values I live by.

The Salvatores utilize Chicago’s access to the Great Lakes to distribute products to the East Coast and parts of Canada.

Weapons, drugs, and stolen goods have all made it across the waters safely.

One thing we’ll never sell is women and children.

Or men, for that matter. We don’t get involved in human trafficking for any purposes, no matter how profitable.

Unfortunately, my job sometimes requires me to attend different functions held here, so I can talk with important people without fear of being spied on or recorded.

No one in this room wants a record of where they are.

They’re all keeping a dirty little secret, which means everyone here is sworn to silence.

“Did you close the deal with Allen Carlisle?” Hugo Bianchi asks. He’s on his fourth drink of the evening, making his words slur together. We’re nearing the end of our conversation, as well as the end of Hugo’s cogent thoughts.

“Of course. I’m a man of my word,” I reply curtly. “We already went over this and signed on the dotted line, remember?”

Hugo nods, though I know this is somehow all new information to him.

He’s incompetent, but he’s surrounded by lethal, cunning criminals who keep him in check.

Hugo inherited his position from his father, much like me.

However, I’ve worked tirelessly to earn the respect of my men on my own.

Unlike Hugo, my father wanted anyone else aside from me to take the job.

Maybe that’s why I continue to fight so hard to be on top.

The staff is setting up for the main event, and I’d like to be long gone before I witness the Annual Auction of Innocence.

Yes, it’s really called that, and yes, it’s as vile as it sounds.

I’m told the women get a significant cut of the money in exchange for their virginity, but the whole thing feels disgusting.

I’m going to have to take a scalding hot shower when I get home to rub the filth from my skin.

“And we agreed on a sixty-forty split, right?” Hugo asks.

He might be the head of the Bianchi crime family, but he’s a terrible drunk. I could probably convince him that our deal was seventy-thirty, but it’d catch up to me eventually. I’ve learned the hard way that every decision has a consequence, especially if you’re operating in the shadows.

“Correct. With this deal, the Bianchis are expanding their territory two miles to the west, while the Salvatores take a bigger cut of the profits from the properties lining the border between our turfs,” I remind him for the third time tonight.

Hugo grunts and nods his head before slamming down the last of his drink.

The portly man is only a few years older than my thirty-nine, but he could pass for sixty.

With a steady diet of cigars, alcohol, and every Italian comfort food imaginable, on top of the stress of this job, he’s basically a walking, talking heart attack waiting to happen.

“Facciamo un brindisi! Let’s make a toast!” Hugo raises his empty glass and snaps his fingers, getting the attention of a waitress dressed in black lingerie. “Another round for me and my partner!”

Moments later, a tray with two tumblers of whiskey appears. I haven’t finished my first drink yet, but I take the new one so we can toast and end this discussion as soon as possible.

“Cin cin,” I say, lifting my glass.

“Salute. To peace between our families.”

We clink glasses and drink, or chug, in Hugo’s case.

I stand and gather my coat, only to have Hugo’s fat fingers wrap around my wrist. My other hand rests on the gun tucked away in my suit jacket, though I don’t pull it out just yet.

It’s much more likely that he’s a sloppy drunk rather than actually trying to do me harm.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay?” The loneliness in his deep brown eyes betrays the aristocratic front he tries so desperately to convey. That’s why I’ll always be stronger than the Bianchis. I never let my guard down, and I never let the loneliness seep through.

I yank my hand from his sweaty grasp and adjust my cuff links. “Quite sure.”

“You gotta take advantage of opportunities like this. Not many people have our connections, our money, our power. Lighten up and enjoy it once in a while, capisci?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I really must go,” I tell him with a decisive nod.

The lights are dimming, signaling the start of the auction.

It’s a shame this building is often used for such horrid events.

It really is a lovely venue with crushed red velvet upholstered chairs, golden chandeliers, and top-shelf whiskey.

“Renzo, come on,” he whines. “Don’t let me drink alone.”

“I’m sure you won’t be alone for long.” I tip my chin toward the stage, where the emcee is walking up to the podium.

He sighs dramatically, but eventually waves me off. “Fine. Please just tell me you’re doing something else hedonistic with your evening. What’s the point of building an empire if you can’t enjoy the spoils?”

I’ve been wondering the same thing lately, though I’d never admit it to this man. Something is… missing. I feel lacking, empty, almost. That is, when I don’t feel numb. I oscillate between nothingness and a gnawing despair. Being here with him isn’t helping.

“Everyone, please take your seats!” the emcee announces. “The Annual Auction of Innocence is starting… now!”

The room erupts in applause, but the noise fades into the background as I stare at the golden-eyed goddess walking across the stage. Her long, dark brown hair flutters behind her, and she squints the closer she gets to the spotlight.

I’m moving toward her without even realizing it, knocking over drinks and stepping on people’s feet to get closer to the enchanting woman. Hugo shouts something lewd and encouraging, but I ignore him in my quest to get to the captivating woman.

My heart squeezes up tightly in my chest, then hammers out a staccato rhythm against my ribcage. I ball my shaking hands into fists as I march toward the stage, my jaw clenched and nostrils flaring.

Am I angry? Confused? Turned on? I don’t fucking know. I guess I don’t fucking care, either, because I keep stampeding through the tables, chairs, and wealthy men giving me unapproving glances.

“As you can see, this one is as innocent as they come,” the emcee announces.

“Just look at her trying to cover herself up.” My blood boils at the thought of anyone else seeing so much of her porcelain skin.

“It’s okay, honey,” he coos to the woman on stage.

His voice is dripping in condescension, and I want to punch him in the throat.

“Let the crowd see what’s for sale. Go on. ”

I growl when the woman winces, though she reluctantly unwraps her arms from around her torso.

She looks so lost up there, her eyes darting around the crowd only to land on her feet.

The woman tucks a few strands of her dark hair behind her ears, her fingers sliding down the silky strands and twirling them in a nervous gesture.

Fuck me, she’s all shy and innocent, and while I know that’s the whole point of this auction, I still hate that she’s on display.

I want all of her sweetness. I want every bit of her innocence, not just the treasure she’s saved all these years.

A fresh wave of hot fury floods my system when I think about anyone else taking her virginity, and I pick up my pace.

“A little extra cushioning on this one, boys,” the soon-to-be-dead motherfucker says. “If you appreciate a lot of curves, you’ll be in for a good night. Shall we kick off the evening with a seventy-five thousand dollar bid?”

Why is this damn aisle so long? Why is she not already in my arms?

A man next to me raises his paddle, signaling his interest. I wrench the paddle out of his hand and snap it in half, throwing both pieces behind my back. He yells something, but I don’t register his words. I’m on a mission.

“Looks like we have an eager–”

He’s startled into silence when I leap on stage.

The woman gasps and stares up at me as my shadow falls over her.

Even though she’s in four-inch heels, I tower over her.

She blinks a few times, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Jesus, she’s younger than I initially thought.

At least fifteen or sixteen years my junior.

I recognize her… from somewhere. I’m sure I wouldn’t forget those otherworldly eyes, plump lips, and rounded cheeks, but I just can’t place her.

No matter. She’s mine now. There will be plenty of time for introductions once I get her away from this disgusting place and prying, hungry eyes.

She doesn’t belong here, and neither do I.

Cupping her chin, I tilt her head up and lock my gaze on her. Golden brown eyes stare back, hundreds of questions and even more emotions swirling beneath the surface. I silently ask permission, and she nods, almost imperceptibly.

I bend down and toss my woman over my shoulder, causing her and the emcee to gasp.

“Sir, you can’t just–”

“Five million,” I bark out. “No, ten. This one is mine.”