Page 4 of Auctioned to the Mobster

The minutes drag on, each second making the knot in my stomach tighter. I try to steady my breathing, but the fear is too real. I’m shaking, my hands clammy as I wring them together. The door creaks open, and my heart skips a beat.

It’s him.

The man who won me steps into the room, his presence filling the space immediately. He’s tall—taller than I realized—and his dark eyes are locked on me, watching every move I make. My pulse quickens, and I instinctively shift back, my feet carrying me toward the wall as if I could somehow melt into it and disappear. But there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped.

He walks closer, each step slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. I can’t breathe. My throat tightens, and I feel heat flooding my body, full of fear and something else—something I don’t want to admit. His gaze is intense, almost like he’s trying to figure me out, and the closer he gets, the more I feel like I’m going to combust. There’s an undeniable pull between us, like gravity, and it terrifies me. I press my back against the wall, my heart slamming in my chest, but I can’t stop looking at him.

He’s close now. Too close. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. He stops right in front of me, his tall frame towering over mine, and for a moment, neither of us says a word. I can’t stop staring into his eyes—dark, mysterious, with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice low, laced with an Italian accent that I didn’t notice when he was bidding on me. It’s smooth, like velvet, but there’s an edge to it—something dangerous. “I won’t hurt you.”

My breath catches in my throat. His words don’t make sense. I should be terrified, and I am, but there’s something else creeping in—a strange kind of relief. He’s not like the other men in that room. He’s not looking at me like I’m some object he just bought. There’s something more in his eyes. He moves closer, and my body reacts before I can stop it. Heat blooms across myskin, and I feel dizzy like I can’t think straight. His hand reaches up and lightly grazes my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath. It’s like my body is on fire, every nerve lit up, and I can’t control it. His touch is gentle but firm, and I feel trapped, not by fear, but by something else entirely.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he murmurs, his voice even softer now like he’s trying to calm me down. His eyes hold mine, and I can’t look away. “I want you to be mine, I bought you to protect you.”

I blink, confused. Protect me? What does that even mean? My mind spins, trying to make sense of his words, but I’m struggling to think straight with him so close. My heart races, but for the first time, it’s not just fear that’s making it pound. I feel my panties get moist just from him looking at me. I’m confused; I’ve never felt like this for anyone before.

He leans in just slightly, his breath warm against my skin. I can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop feeling the pull between us. His lips are so close to mine, and for a second, I forget to be scared. All I can think about is him—how his body feels so close to mine, how his voice sounds when he speaks, how his eyes seem to see right through me.

Everything in me screams that this is wrong, that I should be scared, that I should run. But I can’t. My legs won’t move. All I can do is stand there, pressed against the wall, my body betraying me as my heart races, my skin flushed, and my breath coming in shallow gasps. For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel something that’s been missing all night: hope.

Chapter Four

Dante

I step away from her, my hands clenched at my sides, trying like hell to keep my composure. The room feels too small, too hot, and the way she’s looking at me—it’s driving me insane. Her eyes are wide, still filled with fear, but there’s something else there now, something that’s pulling me in like a magnet.

Fuck. I need to get out of here before I lose my mind.

My body’s betraying me, and I shift slightly, trying to hide the ever-growing bulge in my pants. I can’t be thinking like this, not right now. Not with her. She’s terrified, confused, and all I can think about is how fucking beautiful she looks under these lights, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. I can’t focus.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is soft, barely audible, and she’s still trying to get comfortable.

I glance at her for a second, forcing myself to keep it together. “Dante,” I say.

She nods. I take off my jacket and step closer, draping it over her shoulders. Her skin is cold beneath my fingers, and I lean in, my lips just inches from her ear. “Here. Keep yourself warm.”

She takes it and she pulls it tighter around herself. I can’t wait for a thank you.

I pull out my phone and dial my driver. “Meet me out front,” I growl into the phone, my eyes never leaving her. I hang up and turn back to her, reaching for her arm. “We’re leaving.”

I keep my hand on her, guiding her toward the door, making sure she’s covered enough to avoid attention. When we get outside, the night air hits us, cool and refreshing. My mind’s racing. What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t me.

The car pulls up, and I open the door for her, motioning for her to get in. As she slips into the seat, I catch a glimpse of her legs, bare beneath my jacket, and something inside me tightens. Jesus Christ. I need to get a grip.

I slide into the car beside her, closing the door behind me. The space feels too small, too intimate, and the scent of her—something soft and sweet—fills my lungs. I can’t fucking think straight. Being this close to her is dangerous. I shouldn’t want her, not like this. But I do.

The ride is quiet and tense. Neither of us speaks, but I can feel her presence next to me, her body just inches away. Every time I glance over, she’s staring out the window, lost in thought. I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I feel this need to protect her.

I glance at her again, my chest tightening. She’s different. There’s something about her that gets under my skin, something I can’t shake.

Fuck.

I turn my head, staring out the window, trying to push the thoughts out of my head, but they keep coming back. Her bare skin. The way she looked at me back there, like she didn’t knowwhether to run or come closer. And the way I feel right now—like I’d burn the whole fucking world down if it meant being around her.

We pull up to my house, and I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding. I open the door and get out, reaching for her hand as I help her out of the car. The second her fingers touch mine, that same fire ignites in my veins, and I know, no matter how hard I try to fight it, I’m already fucked.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, leading her toward the house.

---