Page 10 of Auctioned to the Mobster

I step closer, my eyes scanning the feeds. They’re all trained on different parts of the house—specifically, the areas where I’ve been spending most of my time. My heart drops into my stomach as I watch the screens, each one showing a different angle of where I’ve been walking, sleeping, and even showering.

What the hell?

Rage and embarrassment flood through me as I realize what this means. Dante has been watching me. Monitoring my every move. It feels like a violation like my privacy has been ripped away without my knowledge or consent. I can’t believe he would do something like this.

Suddenly, I hear a noise behind me, and I whip around to see Dante standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, my voice shaking with anger as I gesture towards the screens.

Dante’s eyes flick to the cameras, and his jaw tightens. “They’re for your protection,” he says flatly, stepping into the room like this isn’t a big deal.

“Protection?” I scoff, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “This is creepy, Dante! You’ve been watching me this whole time without telling me? You had cameras in every part of the house I’ve been in!”

“I had to make sure you were safe,” he says, his voice low and controlled, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “I can’t afford to let anything happen to you, Emily. Not in my world.”

I shake my head, unable to process what he’s saying. “So your solution is to spy on me? To treat me like some kind of... prisoner?”

He steps closer, his eyes dark and cold. “You don’t understand how dangerous things are, Emily. I did what I had to do.”

His words hang in the air between us, thick with tension. My breath becomes unsteady, my chest tightening with fury and something else—something that terrifies me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have trusted him?

“I need air,” I mutter, turning on my heel and storming out of the office.

“Emily—” Dante calls after me, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

I feel suffocated, like the walls of this mansion are closing in on me. All I can think about is how desperately I need to get out, how wrong this all feels. I thought I could trust him, but now I’m not so sure. The cameras, the control, the way he’s been watching my every move—it’s too much.

I manage to slip out of the house, past the cameras and the eyes that have been following me, and I run. I don’t know where I’m going, but I just need to escape. To breathe.

But I don’t get far.

Before I can make it down the driveway, I’m grabbed from behind. A sharp pain explodes at the back of my head, and everything goes dark.

When I wake up, I’m in a dark room, tied to a chair. My head is pounding, and my vision is blurry, but I can make out the outline of someone standing in front of me. Panic surges through me as I realize what’s happening—I’m being kidnapped.

I try to struggle, but the ropes around my wrists are tight, cutting into my skin. My heart races as I try to remember how I got here, but everything is a blur. The last thing I remember is trying to run, trying to get away from Dante’s suffocating grip.

Now, I’m in the hands of someone else, and I have no idea what they want with me.

Chapter Eight

Dante

I sit at my desk, staring at the screens, the same ones Emily found earlier. The same ones that drove a wedge between us. I knew the second she saw them that she’d feel betrayed and like I was controlling her. I could see it in her eyes—the confusion, the anger. And fuck, I get it. I do. But she doesn’t understand the world we’re in. She doesn’t understand that those cameras were the only way I could make sure she was safe, make sure nothing happened to her while I wasn’t by her side.

I rub my temples, the weight of everything sitting heavy on my shoulders. When she stormed out, and said she needed air, I should’ve followed her. But I didn’t. I gave her space, hoping she’d cool off and we could talk things through once she’d calmed down. I shouldn’t have waited. Now that decision is eating me alive.

I decide it’s time to find her. Time to apologize and explain. I want her to understand why I do the things I do, and why I need to keep her safe. But when I walk through the house, room after room, she’s not there. My heart starts pounding, a bad feeling settles deep in my gut. I check the usual places, call out her name, but the house is fucking silent.

My chest tightens as I move faster, checking every room, every fucking corner. She’s not here. I head outside, barely keeping my panic under control, and call the men I stationed nearby. They were supposed to watch the perimeter. No one gets in or out without them knowing. But when I ask them, they tell me they haven’t seen her leave.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl into the phone. “You’re telling me she just disappeared? You didn’t see a damn thing?”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, one of my men stutters, “Boss, we didn’t—”

I cut him off. “Get to the house. Now.”

My hand clenches into a fist as I hang up. I don’t waste any time and go straight to my office, to the cameras. My fingers fly over the keyboard, pulling up the footage from the last hour. My heart hammers in my chest as I rewind the tapes, scanning every frame. And then I see it.

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