Mafia's Doll

CHAPTER THREE

Maybelline

Thirty million?

My heart was still hammering from being so exposed in front of such disgusting men. But thirty million? What was there in store for me if someone bought me for thirty million dollars?

I hugged myself tighter, wrapping my arms around myself. They hadn't given me anything to put on to protect myself from the cold, so goosebumps pricked at my skin and I shivered.

After I'd left the stage I'd been led to another backstage-looking room with chairs, two or three other girls waiting to be...

I shivered again, then jumped at the sound of the door opening and closing, the voice of the auction manager and someone else.

"Of course, sir. Right this way." Footsteps came closer, and I begged that they weren't for me. I kept my eyes down and hair covering me like a curtain.

"This one?" The same voice asked.

"Yes. Now leave." Another colder, deeper voice demanded, and I shuddered when I realised he had stopped a few feet in front of me.

The other footsteps scurried away, and I'm left trying to remember how to breathe. I knew I'd have to look at him eventually, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to see an old greying man in his seventies with a beer belly and-

He crouched down. In front of me.

And he was beautiful...

Terrifyingly so.

His jaw was strong, and defined. His hair was dark and so were his eyes, his skin tanned and muscles toned.

I flicked my eyes back down, clutching myself tighter. Vincent had taught me that men hated it when women looked them in the eyes.

"Well fuck, you're even prettier in person." His voice was deep, dark. Soft. His accent was thick, but his English fluent. "My pretty doll." He lifted a finger and trailed it down my cheek, brushing my hair away from my face. I looked back up at him, eyes wide in fear.

"P-please don't hurt me." I nearly whispered, my voice quiet and shaky. He tilted his head, replicating a lion hunting its prey.

"Hurt you?" He shifted closer, and I leant away slightly. "Bambola, I would never." But his eyes sparkled like he thought it was a joke.

I shivered again.

"Come, to my car." His hand trailed down, clasping my wrist. He pulled me up to my feet, and his eyes trailed down my figure.

I gasped as he pulled me into his arms, off my feet and began carrying me bridal style.

"W-wait." I flinched as his hand caressed my ribs. "Wh-why are you carrying me?"

"You were cold. This way, you are warmer." He looked down at me. "E posso nascondere il tuo corpo agli altri uomini."

I scrunched my brow. "What language is that?"

His eyes kept trailing over my body, and he seemed... mesmerised? That couldn't be right. He glanced back up to meet my eyes.

"Italian. I am Don to the Italian mafia." He said briskly, before leaning down to open a car door.

I jolted.

"A-are you going to kill me?" I asked, looking up at him in fear.

His mouth flicks up into a semblance of a smile.

"Why would I kill something I paid for?" He stooped down and climbed into the car. How he managed it with me in his arms, I don't know. He was massive, though, so maybe I was light to him.

I guessed what he said was true. If he wanted to kill me, why would he have paid thirty million dollars for me?

Once we were inside the car, he reached forward and pressed a button that closed a darkened screen between the backseat and the front seat, where the driver was.

Not nerve-racking at all.

The car started to move, and I went to get off his lap so I could sit on the left.

Before I could move, he grabbed my waist harshly, yanking me so I'm straddling him.

"Never try that again." He said harshly, fingers digging into my hips. One hand came up to cup my throat. "Do you understand me, bambola?" I let out a soft cry when his hand tightened around my neck.

"Y-yes. I'm s-sorry." I choked out, and he released my neck gripping my hips and leaning all the way back in his seat.

"Good."