Page 3 of Auctioned to the Mobster

Fuck.

Her breasts are round and full, the kind you just want to bury your face in, and her ass? Goddamn. She turns slightly, and I catch a glimpse of it, round and firm, just enough to make me lose focus for a second. My cock throbs in my pants, hardening fast. I shift in my seat, trying to calm the fuck down, but it’s useless. She’s got me hooked, and she doesn’t even know it.

My dick twitches. I can’t help it. She’s perfect, like something out of a fucking dream. But it’s more than that. There’s something about her that doesn’t fit here. The fear in her eyes, the way she holds herself, it’s like she’s not meant for this world. She’s too real, too vulnerable. And something inside me shifts.

I want her.

I want her so no one else can have the pleasure of having her. No one in this room deserves to touch her. They’d destroy her. Break her. I don’t know why the fuck I care, but I do. My pulse quickens, my blood pumping harder with every second I watch her.

And then, for a brief moment, she glances at me. Our eyes lock.

Shit.

It’s like a spark hits me, and my chest tightens. She looks away quickly, but that second—it’s enough. I feel something pull at me, hard. I shift in my seat, adjusting myself under the table, trying to get a grip. What the hell is happening? I’ve never felt this way over a girl, not at first glance, not with just one look. It’s raw, uncontrollable. I don’t even give a shit about the auction anymore. The mission I came here for? Forgotten. The traitor? I’ll deal with that shit later. Right now, the only thing I can think about is her.

The auctioneer starts rattling off numbers, and I realize they’re about to start the bidding on her. I don’t give a shit what she costs. I’m not leaving here without her.

I’ve done a lot of fucked up things in my life, but this? This is different. I’m not just saving her. I’m claiming her. She’s mine now, and I’m going to make sure she knows it.

Chapter Three

Emily

The lights are bright and hot on my skin as I stand there, exposed and vulnerable. I feel like I’m suffocating in this stupid dress, and the heels are killing my feet. I try to shift my weight, but it’s no use. The pain is a constant reminder of how trapped I am. My heart races in my chest as the auction begins.

The crowd is restless, their voices loud as the bidding starts. Numbers are called out, one after another, each one higher than the last. The sound of cards being raised fills the room, each person trying to outdo the one before them. It’s like they don’t even see me as a person, just something to be won. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying so hard not to cry. The lump in my throat grows bigger as the numbers rise, and I force myself to keep standing tall.

This can’t be happening.

I scan the room, trying to focus on anything but the voices calling out my price. The faces blur together, all of them strangers, all of them looking at me like I’m some kind of object. I want to disappear. I want to run, but my legs feel like they’re made of lead, and there’s nowhere to go.

That’s when I see him.

He’s at the far end of the room, standing apart from the rest of the crowd, watching me. For a second, everything around me fades, and it’s just him and me. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that looks messy in the perfect way. His jawline is sharp, and his dark eyes are intense, almost piercing as they can see right through me. There’s something dangerous about him, but in a way that makes my breath catch in my throat.

I can’t look away.

I know I should, but I can’t help it. There’s something about him, something that pulls me in, though I have no idea who he is. He doesn’t look like the rest of the men in this room. He’s not desperate or sleazy. He’s calm, and confident, like he already knows what’s going to happen. His eyes meet mine for the briefest second, and my heart skips a beat. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze that I don’t understand. I look away quickly, my cheeks burning, feeling more exposed than ever.

The bidding keeps going, and I’m on the verge of breaking. I can’t take this anymore. The room spins, and I feel like I’m drowning in the noise, the heat, the attention. The numbers are higher than I ever imagined, and I’m terrified of who will end up winning me.

Just when I think I’m going to fall apart, I hear it.

A voice, deep and commanding, cut through the chaos.

It’s him.

The man at the far end of the room—the one who made my pulse quicken—has just placed the highest bid. I freeze, my eyes snapping back to him. He’s still watching me, his face unreadable, but there’s a certainty in the way he raised his hand like he knew all along he was going to win.

A wave of relief crashes over me, and for a moment, I feel like I can breathe again. It’s over. He won. But as the relief settles in, so does the confusion. Why did he choose me? What does he want?

I can’t wrap my head around it. All I know is that the look in his eyes, the way he’s standing there so sure of himself, makes me feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m going to be okay. Even if I don’t understand why, I feel safer knowing it’s him.

I’m led off the stage, my legs shaky beneath me. The guards grip my arms as if I’m going to bolt at any moment,

I don’t know where they’re taking me, but I know it’s to meet him—the man who bought me. The man with the intense dark eyes. My stomach churns at the thought, my mind racing with a million possibilities of what could happen next.

We stop in front of a door, and one of the guards opens it, shoving me inside. The door slams shut behind me, and I’m alone in a private room. The space is huge—way bigger than I expected. There’s a massive bed in the center with soft-looking white sheets, dark wood furniture that gleams under the soft lighting, and a plush rug that stretches out across the floor. But none of that comforts me. I’m too aware of the fact that I’m here, waiting for a man I don’t know. My mind spins in circles. How long do I have before he comes in? I glance around, looking for anything that might help me, anything I can use to protect myself if it comes to that. There’s nothing. Just a room designed to make someone feel comfortable like they’re staying in some five-star hotel. Except I’m not a guest. I’m... property.

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