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

my lips. I run my eyes over her body for the millionth time tonight. While the miniskirt and stilettos scream experienced, the basic bra says otherwise. Almost as if the woman on stage isn’t the woman she truly is. There are mysteries to be unraveled. Undressed.

Eitan finally looks up from the computer to the woman. I register a note of concern in his voice. “She’s too clean. Her skin too perfect. And look at her hair, clean and shiny. Most of the runaways and addicts have dry skin and their hair looks like shit—brittle and broken strands. And not one would have thought to punch a mobster. Even a low-level charmer like our friend at the front of the stage.”

Eitan and I chuckle. She has guts. And she must not know who she’s dealing with, otherwise she wouldn’t have slugged the man. Or maybe she would have. My lip twitches at the thought. From the corner of my eye, I can see Eitan looking at me, a hint of worry still on his face.

So, what if she belongs to someone? What if they come looking for her? I shake my head. Once she’s sold, it’s not my problem. I won’t have to worry about the feds or her family looking for her. And I would hope one of my men would know better than to kidnap someone that others will be looking for.

Because I don’t take kindly to costly mistakes like that.

The auctioneer grabs the microphone, walks up to the girl, and stands next to her. He faces the crowd and grins. “Bidding for this wild filly will begin at ten thousand dollars. Do I hear ten thousand?”

A hand immediately goes up. The auctioneer moves to fifteen thousand and another hand goes up. From the back of the room, I watch as every boss in the room vies for the girl, her value rising with each passing second. Eitan tracks each hand waving for the next bid and smiles wide. “I knew this woman would sell for a lot.”

I nod and continue to watch the action up front. The woman’s head whips around as she tries to follow each person bidding on her, terror taking over her features the higher the number gets. Such a shame. She should be proud about how much everyone in the audience values her. As to what ends they will use her for ... well, it’s better not to think of it.

The back-and-forth continues on until only two men are left in the bidding war. One of them is Gino DeLuca.

“Looks like our friend Gino has his heart set on the wild one,” Eitan says.

I grunt.

The DeLuca don is a constant thorn in my side. I wish he would have passed on the invitation tonight. Actually, I didn’t want to invite him. The man is unhinged and deceptively sneaky, and he’s starting to drift outside his lane. Gino controls much of the drug traffic in the city, a fact I’ve been fine with, up to a point. But lately he’s been making noise about moving into weapons. And weapons are my key line of business.

My blood begins to boil and my eyes narrow on the Italian. I watch him lick his lips as the bidding swirls around him. “Gino’s not blind. He wants what everyone else in this place wants: fresh meat,” I finally respond.

“One thing’s for sure: the bid on the girl is up to sixty thousand dollars, so we just met our quota for the night.”

He’s right, but the thought of our payday is far from my mind. Something is brewing in my chest. A dark, unfamiliar feeling. Hatred for Gino, lust for the girl ... I grind my teeth. What I wouldn’t give for someone to whack the guy. But when it comes to Gino and the Italians, diplomacy over violence has been my policy. There is no telling what a street rat like Gino will do if backed into an uncomfortable corner. Most of the time, I feel that it’s better to keep him fat and happy—where I can see him.

But tonight, that strategy doesn’t sit well with me.

“One hundred fifty thousand dollars,” Gino shouts as he stands up.

“Jesus Christ,” Eitan mutters, nearly dropping the iPad. “He’s out of his fucking mind. Not that I mind the money, but he’s fucking crazy.”

My gaze falls back on the girl, her eyes as wide as a doe’s—whether from fright or from the staggering sum, I’m not sure. She begins to thrash against the collar again, furiously trying to break free. I don’t blame her. Gino will break her, maybe even kill her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed a slave.

“One hundred fifty thousand. Do I hear one hundred sixty thousand?” The auctioneer looks around the room as he walks back and forth across the stage. “One hundred fifty thousand going once.”

The girl looks at Gino, then around the room. She yanks on the chain, although she, I, and everyone else in the room knows it will not yield to her. She swings out her leg to kick my lieutenant. She’s not giving up, full of fight instead of flight, even if she’s going to end up dead for it.

Then, out of nowhere, like a ghost whispering in my ear: “Son, the poor creature needs my help. I’m not leaving it to die.”

When I look back to the stage, I see a trapped bird. The same bird who kept fighting against the thorny bush. And I can’t turn away from her. Something inside me wants her in a way I don’t understand. It wants to help her like my father helped the bird.

My pulse quickens until my temples throb. I need to move, not be stuck sitting in this chair. But pacing isn’t an option, not in present company. Control. Control. Control yourself.

But it isn’t meant to be. My eyes swivel to the auctioneer and before I know what I’m doing, my hand is up in the air. “One hundred sixty thousand