Page 2 of Sold to the Syndicate

Avalie

Apparently big dick energy doesn’t always translate to the bedroom. I was closer to coming last night with my vibrator that wouldn’t hold a charge.

Quietly sliding out of the bed, I look around in the dark for my clothes. I manage to find my purse, dress, and heels. After pulling my dress over my head, I fish through my purse to find my phone. I need the flashlight to find my panties. As I dig around, Matt – or was it Mark? – startles me when I hear him stirring in the bed. If I plan to leave without having to speak to him again, it is apparently going to be commando.

Fuck, I really liked that thong.

Stepping into the hallway, I try my hardest not to make a sound as I pull the door shut behind me. Relief floods over me when it barely even clicks as it closes. Digging my phone back out of my purse, I request an Uber before putting my heels back on and heading downstairs.

It might be two in the morning, but my ride will be here in about five minutes. That means I should make it home before three. Well before Frank wakes up for the day.

By the time I make it down all the stairs the Uber is pulling up out front. With how little traffic there is at this hour, we make it to my destination within thirty minutes. Leaving my driver a five star review, because he was hilarious and a gentleman, I climb out of the backseat.

My stomach drops when I notice that the lights are still on in our apartment. He is either passed out in the living room or he has not been to sleep yet. Either way, I am completely fucked when I walk in that door.

Taking my time, I slowly take the stairs to the sixth-floor walk-up. I hesitate to put my keys in the door, wanting one more moment to myself. That little moment I wanted is taken from me as I watch the handle turn and the door open.

“Where the fuck have you been,” his hand tightly grabs my wrist, yanking me into the apartment before he slams the door shut.

Based on the current aroma of this apartment and his demeanor, I quickly come to realization that he has not been to sleep yet. Every breath he exhales in my direction reeks of cheap booze.

His eyes gaze over my body in sheer disgust.

Parting my lips to answer him, my words are silenced by the back of his hand slamming against my cheek. No tears well in my eyes. Not a sound passes from my lips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me ever again.

“Is that all you’ve got,” I spit back at him before he backhands me again.

“Whoring your way around the city,” he releases his grip on my wrist disgustedly pushing me away from him, “just like your fucking mother.”

He isn’t entirely wrong. When I was seven, she left his abusive ass for some guy she had just met. Frank rambles about it every time he gets drunk, which is often. We have not seen her since. While I will never forgive her for leaving me here with him, I do not fault her needing to get out of this house. I think in a way I have been trying to get the hell out here the same way. Getting me away from this hell that is my life with Frank.

Yet, in the most fucked up of ways, I am grateful for him. He is not my dad. I was just extra baggage that came along with my mom, but when she left, he let me stay. I work in his produce store and I put up with his bullshit. In exchange, I have a roof over my head and food on my table most of the time. Until I manage to save enough money to provide those things for myself, this is just my life.

I don’t feel sorry me. And I definitely do not want anyone else to feel sorry for me. A life with Frank has not made me a timid little mouse of a woman. I am fearless when it comes to my words and actions, because I know that no one in this world can hurt me any worse than Frank has over the years.

“Are you even fucking listening to me,” his words slice through my thoughts. “I expect you downstairs at eight to open the store.”

Stomping towards his room, I can hear him mumbling to himself, “No one is ever going to take you off my hands if you keep fucking every guy you meet.”

Six guys. Apparently, according to Frank, having really shitty sex with six different guys makes me a whore.

Grabbing a bag of peas for my cheek, I head to my room to try to get a few hours of sleep before I need to open the store for Frank. Exchanging my dress for an oversized t-shirt, I set my alarm before climbing into bed.

ChapterThree

Lorenzo

“Come in,” his deep voice billows from the other side of the door.

Pushing open the door, I step into the office to see my father diligently working at his desk.

Noting the tiredness on his face, “You’re up late Papa.”

“There is always work to be done, Lorenzo,” his eyes gaze towards the door, silently instructing me to close it behind me, “and I don’t trust that guy out there with your sister any further than I could throw him.”

I snicker. Venecia is his baby, and on top of that she is the only girl in the family. I do not think he will ever trust any man to be alone with her.

“Come,” he gestures, “Sit. Tell me what you got out of Ellis.”

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