Sold to Moretti Mafia

Fallon

He wants me for sex. He will not let me go. And he chose me because, from the four girls on that stage, I was the most appealing to him.

“Go take a shower,” he points toward an open door on the other side of the room, “leave the door open, and come out naked when you’re done.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat and give him another small nod before I scurry away and into the bathroom. I almost close the door out of habit but stop myself when my fingers touch the smooth wood. I don’t look back to see if he’s watching me, not when I can feel his eyes on me.

Moving out of view, I turn the shower on. While I wait for the water to turn warm, I take in my surroundings. Just like what I’ve seen so far of the house, it’s nice, but nothing fancy. I suppose I expected a man who drops a million dollars in one night to live in a mansion or at least a lavish house.

Which leads me to wonder if this is even his place or someone else’s?

Not knowing what he plans to do with me worries me more than anything. Part of me expected him to screw me in the back of his car. I was shocked when he did nothing of the sort.

When steam starts to fill the room, I step into the shower. Sighing loudly, I forget about Markus, and where I am. I practically melt beneath the spray of the water and take my time washing every inch of my body, trying to get the stink of the auction out of my skin. I wish the soap could wash away the memory of the last couple of days.

I’m a little surprised when after a few minutes, he doesn’t come in to check on me. Then again, where would I escape to anyway?

I finish up my shower and turn off the water. I shiver when my feet make contact with the cold tile and quickly grab a fluffy towel that’s neatly folded on the rack above the toilet. The cotton towel feels like a luxury as I dry myself and wrap the towel around my shivering body. My gaze catches on my reflection in the mirror, and I barely hold back a gasp.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

I’ve been through the wringer, yes, but I didn’t think I looked this bad. There are ugly red marks on my throat from the collar and blue handprints around my neck. My cheek doesn’t look much better, swollen, black, and blue. A vein must have popped in my right eye since the white is mostly blood red now. I already don’t look like myself, and I’m sure by the time I leave here, I’ll be a completely different person. If I ever leave.

Blinking away the tears that have formed in my eyes at my own reflection, I force a ragged breath into my lungs-no more tears. Pulling myself together, I walk toward the door.

My steps falter, and I stop in the doorway and find Markus sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks to be lost in thought, probably trying to decide his next move. Looking up from the floor, his gaze collides with mine. It’s intense and all-consuming. The kind of stare that makes you weak in the knees and has you making stupid choices.

Annoyance pinches his brows. “Do you not know how to listen? I said to come out here naked. Does that look naked?” His tone is mocking as he points at my towel-covered body.

Rugged is easily the best way I could describe this man. Dark, disheveled hair and light stubble shadows his angular jaw. He’s definitely handsome, but more in a, I’ll kill you after our date way. I don’t want to cross him, that’s for sure.

“I’m sorry, I was cold.” I drop the towel, and his eyes do a quick once over, stopping on my face and lingering there. I’m not shy about my body, and unbeknownst to him, I’m not that inexperienced either. I’ve been with a couple of guys, though it’s been a while for me.

“Come here,” he commands, and my feet move on their own. I stop right in front of him, but apparently, that’s not close enough. “Closer.”

He spreads his legs and motions for me to step in between them. Stepping forward, my knees hit the edge of the bed. It feels like a trap, one I’ve just walked right into it. Lifting a hand, he ghosts his fingertips over my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Those same hands travel up to cup each of my breasts, and I’m ashamed when he grazes his thumb over my hard nipple, and I feel a spark of pleasure in my belly. I blame it on nature. My hormones or body don’t understand what kind of man he is; my body is merely reacting to a handsome man touching my naked skin.

“Turn around,” he orders.

I slowly spin around, letting him inspect every inch of my body, knowing that’s exactly what he is doing. After all, he paid for me, so why shouldn’t he? His fingers move shamelessly over my most private parts like he owns them, and I guess in his mind, he does.

“You are beautiful,” he murmurs. “I’m going to enjoy you very much.”

His words make me shiver. I know sex is a part of this. Probably the most prominent part to him and realize he will take it whether I want him to or not, but I’m not ready. Then again, I guess no one can prepare themselves to be raped.

“But not right now. Put these clothes on,” he adds.

For a moment, I think he is joking, but when I turn back around to face him, I find a pair of owl-print pajamas laid out on the bed beside him.

Regardless of this being a trick or not, I don’t want to disobey again.

Something tells me that Markus’s patience is not to be tested. Moving to the side, I lean over and grab the clothes off the bed. Curiosity has me wondering if he usually has women’s clothes lying around. Everything about him and this place is off-putting.

Maybe he brings women up here all the time? My thoughts twist, and soon I’m wondering what he does with the others? If there are even others? Does he sell them? Kill them? Oh god, I’m going down a hole I cannot come back from.

I slip into the cotton pj’s quickly, and for the moment, they make me feel normal again, even though I know for certain all of this is as far from normal as it gets.

Markus pushes off the bed, and the room seems to shrink with his stature. Unconsciously, I take a tiny step back.

“Take the pill and drink at least half of that glass of water.” He points to the nightstand, where I find both. He reminds me of a caveman more and more, ordering and pointing, expecting me to listen to him without question.

“What is-”

“Do it,” he says more sternly this time, his gaze slicing me down the middle.