Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
This is the daughter of the man who cost us more than a brother. Mario was the heart of our family—the head. We are but lesser imitations of the man he was, and nothing has been the same since he was killed. The rage that coils in my gut is instant, searing. Not because I want to save her. Not because I give a damn about the tremor in her hands or the silent plea in her gaze. No, my fury is for the men in this room who think they can take what should belong to us.
Nero wants his money, but we crave more. Blood. Pain. Revenge. Satisfaction.
Aemelia Lambretti is ours, whether she likes it or not.
We could take her from this place with violence, but it’s not worth starting a war. Nero will pay for the money he takes from us through this auction. Luca will make sure of it.
The bidding begins, and the first number thrown out is pathetic. Insulting. Some stronzo in the front row leans forward, his watery eyes gleaming as he ups the bid. Another man, younger and cocky, offers more. The numbers climb, but it’s a game they don’t know they’ve already lost.
I chuckle darkly. “These sfigati actually think they have a chance.”
Luca doesn’t respond. His jaw is locked so tight it might shatter. Me? I’m burning alive.
I raise my hand lazily, throwing out a number that makes the crowd murmur. We don’t have a strategy, but it doesn’t matter. Money is nothing.
The host’s lips part in shock before he covers it with a slimy smile. “Ah, a generous offer from Mr. Venturi.”
The old man counters.
“Doppio,” I say firmly. Double
The young bastard grits his teeth and hesitates before throwing in another number.
“Triplo.” My voice carries, and the host nearly chokes.
“That’s quite the bid—” He clears his throat. “Any more?” He scans the crowd, his beady eyes searching for hunger. Joey Costa turns in his seat, his hair slick, his expression oily, eyeing me and my brothers. He’s not friends with Nero but always looks to grease his palms. “Double again,” he says. I don’t even think he wants the girl. He wants to inflate the price for Nero so he can call in a favor later.
“Five times the current bid,” Luca states, his voice so low and sharp it’s like ice cracking over a frozen lake.
The room echoes with a shared gasp. Luca bid himself, and enough to make it clear he’s not backing down. The air vibrates as Aemelia shifts, her chest rising and falling more quickly. The dark shadow of her nipples and the hair on her cunt shows through the lace, and my dick notices.
Nobody moves.
The host stares at us, the gavel hovering. The idiot thinks he’s Judge Judy, for fuck’s sake. “Once. Twice…”
Silence. The other bidders shrink back, knowing better than to challenge Don Venturi. It could be their butchered body parts being sold at the dog food auction next.
“Sold.”
Aemelia flinches at the final word, and her head drops, her hair covering her expression. She doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t understand.
We didn’t just buy her.
We claimed her.
And we never let go of what’s ours.
4
AEMELIA
LITTLE KITTEN
The car ride is silent except for the engine’s hum and the low music playing. My wrists ache where the zip ties dug into my skin, phantom pain lingering long after they cut them off. The men flanking me are strangers—dangerous shadows with unreadable expressions. The one driving, Vito, is built like a brick wall, his thick fingers gripping the steering wheel like he could snap it in half if he wanted to. He has a sharp jawline, peppered with dark stubble, and an old scar that bisects his neck. His partner, Andre, is leaner with a narrow face like a rat but is just as intimidating, his eyes a sharp, calculating green beneath a mop of tousled dark hair. They haven’t spoken much, but their presence alone tells me everything I need to know. I’m not safe.
I haven’t been safe since I was bundled into a car after Rosita Venturi’s wedding by two terrifying men and held in a warehouse basement with seventeen other wretches. Blindfolded and gagged, I soiled my clothes, fear stealing my dignity. Before the auction, I was forced to shower in cold water and pull on a cheap white night dress like some hooker bride. No bra, no panties.
My chest hitches as fear grips me. I keep my hands twisted together so they won’t tremble. If these men see I’m frightened, it will make it worse. Men like this are parasites who live off the fear-spiked adrenaline of those weaker than them. Even though I haven’t eaten for over twenty-four hours, my stomach roils, and I swallow convulsively.
The city lights blur as we speed through the streets, and my anxiety rises with every mile that takes me further from the hell I just escaped. Did I escape? Or am I simply on the knife edge of falling into another trap? Someone bought me, that’s all I know—bought my body, my virginity. I press my legs tightly together reflexively as the thought of what’s coming floods me with dread.