RUTHLESS KING

1 SOLD TO THE MOB

Stella

Sold to the mob.

Sold to the mob.

Sold to the mob.

Cazzo. Fuck my life. How did this happen? I glare at my father, tears

welling in my eyes. Three guys in black suits with matching red pocket

squares stand across the table from us. The taller one in the middle, Tony,

hands my father a stack of papers.

Another man stands behind us. He's the one with the keys to the

handcuffs digging into my wrists. The keys jingle in his slacks' pocket, a

sickening taunt. He takes the keyring out, the clanging of metal cutting

through the tense air, and unlocks Dad's cuffs.

"Sign on the dotted line," says Tony, as Dad winces at the angry red

marks on his wrists. "All your outstanding debts to the Kings will be

forgiven in exchange for your daughter, Stella McKenzie, within the time

period previously discussed."

What the hell does that even mean? I'm not property. I am a damned

person. I couldn't be sold, could I? I struggle against the cuffs, the chair legs squealing against the cement floor.

My father's eyes dart to mine, and for an instant, he actually looks

ashamed. For that one crappy moment in my life, he seems sorry for all the

shit he put me through. I almost feel bad for him. Almost. That's how stupid

I am.

Dad reaches for the packet, flips to the last page, and scrawls his initials

along the line. He doesn't ask any questions, doesn't inquire what the hell

will become of his only daughter. Then he leaps up from his chair, tosses

the papers at Tony and darts out of the room. He doesn't even spare me a

passing glance as he jets out of there with his tail between his legs.

Liam McKenzie is a piece of shit.

I struggle again, but two firm hands press on my shoulders, shoving me

down on the chair. "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. You're now

official property of the Kings."

Seconds pass, hell, it could have been hours. Everything is a blur,

muddled by the roar of my pounding heart.

The door swings open, and a dark shadow looms in the threshold. An

electric presence fills the small, murky space, and I'm suddenly acutely

aware of every single heartbeat. Piercing midnight irises rake over me, and

goosebumps spill across my arms.

One Week Ago

"Buongiorno, Stella bella!" Mrs. DeVito's warm smile greets me as I

stumble down the stairs of our fourth-floor walkup.