Sold to the Mob Boss: A Mafia Romance (Lavrin Bratva), Nicole Fox [ebook reader 7 inch txt] 📗

Then he springs forward and runs his slimy tongue across my foot.

I flinch and yank my foot away, bile crawling up my throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you all?” I gasp. “Where am I? What is this?” My last wisp of courage is gone now, and in its place there isn’t anything left but pure, wide-eyed panic. I want out. I want home. I want my mother. I want to be anywhere in the world but where I am right now—trapped, chained, and about to be sold to a beast.

The man who tongued my foot looks at me, eyes bulging. As if he can read my mind, he licks his lips and says, “Baby, you’re in the underworld. And we’re the devils who live here.”

It’s like he said the magic words that unlock a whole new level of unfiltered lust, of dirty energy that now expands to light up the eyes of every man in the dark room. The crowd erupts into cheers, fists pumping into the air.

I know the man is telling the truth. I’m in some kind of hell. A hell where men like him buy women like me. A hell where strangers rip open my clothes to expose my breasts to onlookers. A hell where a grotesque bastard licks my foot without permission.

The goon behind me unlocks my handcuffs and leads me closer to the auctioneer. But the creep from the front row jumps up on stage, reaching his hand out and squeezing my breast. “Just want to test the merchandise.”

Without thinking, my free hand comes up and my fist connects hard with the guy’s jaw. There’s an audible pop, and the crowd falls silent. My hand is hurting, but the adrenaline muffles the edge of the pain. All I can think is how good it felt to hit back. To not be helpless. To go down swinging, if it turns out that this is indeed the end of me.

For one brief moment, I’m in control of my own life.

Then it’s gone. I look at the man. His sneer has vanished and now his lips press into a tight line. Before I can react, he cracks me backhanded across the cheek. My head jerks back and I stumble. Stars flash in front of my eyes.

“Dumb bitch.”

Tears cloud my sight, the blow making me dizzy. The stinging pain is familiar and before I can stop it, the floodgates in my mind burst open. Memories rush in, unwanted but unstoppable.

I haven’t been slapped like that since my father was still alive.

***

Years ago

“Mom, what time is Daddy coming home? I need his help with this school project.”

“I’m not sure, Annie. I know he has a meeting with his bosses. Is there anything I can help you with?” Mommy laid a hand on my shoulder.

“No. We’re writing a story for Father’s Day in school and there’s an interview I have to do with Daddy.” My shoulders sagged as I put away the assignment sheet and grabbed my math homework. Hopefully, my dad would be home before bedtime. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to my teachers this time if he didn’t show up.

Mom kissed my head and made her way back to the stove. “I made some mac and cheese, honey. I know it’s your favorite.”

I forced a smile. Mom was always trying to make me feel better, ever since Daddy had started this new job that kept him away at all hours of the night. His mood had changed, too. He was more nervous, more tired than he ever had been before. And when he was here, things were different. Darker, somehow.

He wouldn’t tell us what his new job was, only that we couldn’t tell anybody about it and we couldn’t ask any questions about the people he brought over. The men who came home with him sometimes were cocky and rude, bossing my mom around, cursing or slapping at her if she got their drinks wrong. She told me to stay out of sight when Daddy had guests, but I couldn’t help peeking at them, with their cigarettes dangling from their fat lips and dirty shoes propped up on the coffee table. Mommy always yelled at me if I put my shoes on the furniture, but for some reason she never said anything to them. She seemed scared of the men my father worked for now.

A crash sounded from the living room and my heart stuttered as I jumped out of my chair. I tried to look out into the hallway, but Mommy forced me behind her. We inched to the doorway and peered into the living room where the noise had come from.

Shattered glass was strewn across the floor. In the middle of the mess was a brick. I looked up and saw a huge hole in the living room window. Mom huffed and straightened her spine. She turned to me, her hand pushing my hair back from my face. “Annie, please get the broom and dustpan.”

I nodded and turned toward the kitchen as my mom walked towards the front door. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but it seemed bad. Why would someone throw a brick through our window?

I brought Mom the broom from the kitchen closet and stood silent in the corner as she swept up the shards of glass. Neither of us said a word. I held the dustpan for her until the mess was cleaned up.

Then Daddy walked in just as we finished.

“What happened?” he growled.

“Someone threw a brick through the window!” I blurted. Mommy glared at me, like I’d given away a secret.

Daddy’s brow furrowed. He raked his hand through his hair, walked over to the couch, and plopped down, pouring himself a big glass of whiskey from the bar table next to him. “This is my fault. My bosses are angry. I’m not meeting my quota.” He leaned forward and pressed his face into his palms.

I’d never seen him so upset before. It was