Sold to the Mob Boss: A Mafia Romance (Lavrin Bratva) Page 3

  The club is electric, everyone feeding off the smiles and fast dancing. I could go like this all night long, never stopping. I move in my miniskirt like my hips were made to sway. The beat tugs at me like I’m a puppet on strings.

  A perfect moment, one to remember forever.

  That’s when the nightmare begins.

  Chapter Three

  Annie

  Stephen pulls me up against his body and every nerve ending in my body fires off. He grinds against me, my arms wrapped around his neck. His hot breath on my skin is invigorating.

  “You’re very sexy, Annie,” Stephen says. How is he getting away with being so cheesy and direct? If he were anyone else, he’d seem so cheesy, so lame. I don’t know if it’s because he’s just that good-looking, or if he’s casting a spell on me, or what, but whatever it is, it’s working.

  I bite my lower lip and duck my eyes to avoid his gaze, both out of shyness and because this close, my eyesight begins to blur.

  We continue to dance, the smoke from the dry ice twisting artistically, forming curls as it’s illuminated by the colored lights. My grip on Stephen tightens as the world becomes a carousel, gaining momentum.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod slowly and look up at Stephen. “Just a bit too much to drink.”

  Everything feels like it’s catching up to me suddenly. The pleasant heat in my hips is turning into a boiling inferno. I feel very wrong, somehow. Dizzy, sweaty, but shivering.

  Stephen pulls me closer, his lips nuzzling the side of my neck. A flood of endorphins urges me to turn and kiss him, something that I would never do. But when I turn to meet his lips, my movements are awkward and my forehead clips his nose. I feel a sharp crack.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, stepping back to give him some space as my hand flies over my mouth.

  “It’s ... okay.” Stephen’s words contain a hint of venom and something dark flashes in his eyes. It looks like there’s a drop of blood on the rim of his nostril.

  I struggle to walk forward, my legs swaying from left to right. It’s as if I’m having some sort of out-of-body experience. God, I’m drunk. So very drunk. Why did I take all those shots?

  Stephen grabs my arm and leads me toward a dark corner of the club. He spins me so the wall is to my back and steps into my space.

  I force a smile against my growing nausea and lean into him. I’m trying to tell myself not to ruin this moment, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself together. My eyes dart around the club looking for Jenna and Wendy, but I can’t spot them. Just strangers, everywhere, sweaty and reeling.

  “What do you do for work?” Stephen’s question pulls me from my search.

  “Oh, I’m a student still. I graduate in May.”

  Stephen’s lips brush against my ear. “What do you study?”

  “Um, accounting.” The words barely come out as a whisper, the body contact stealing my voice.

  Stephen chuckles, but something is off in the tone. Something sinister. The hairs on my neck prick for a moment and my hands slip to Stephen’s chest to push him back a little, giving me some space.

  But Stephen doesn’t move.

  “I need a little air. I’m going to find Jenna or Wendy and step outside for a bit,” I say.

  Stephen steps closer until he’s pressing me flush against the wall. With his finger, he lifts my chin so that my gaze meets his. “Annie, you aren’t going anywhere.”

  Adrenaline floods my system. My heart pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. My body wants to run fast for safety, but instead I remain where I am. Adrenaline surges so fast I almost vomit, saliva thickening in my throat, and beads of sweat trickling down my brow.

  I don’t feel sexy anymore. I feel like throwing up and crying, not necessarily in that order.

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. Maybe Stephen didn’t mean it the way I took it. Maybe the alcohol is causing me to panic. I mean, what can he really do? We’re in a club with hundreds of people. Hundreds of witnesses. He’s not going to kill me, for crying out loud.

  But still, something doesn’t feel right. I need to get away.

  “Stephen, please. I feel sick. I drank too much.”

  There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and he smiles wide, too wide. All his teeth show, as if he’s a predator toying with his prey. “I said, you aren’t going anywhere.” His voice is laced with too much power and too much confidence, like a man used to getting his way.

  I slap my palms against his chest with all the force I can muster. Thanks to being drunk, there’s no real power behind the hits. Tears start to flow down my cheeks, my lips quivering. “Let me go. Stephen, move!”

  Instead, Stephen grabs my arm. His fingernails press into my skin as he begins dragging me down the dark hallway that seems to appear suddenly to my right. I pull against his grip, digging my heels into the floor, but he’s too strong. I try to fall, to crawl away, but Stephen reaches down and hoists me to my feet. “Shut up and be a good girl, Annie.”

  “LET. ME. GO.” I slap him in the face and yank my arm once again. His fingernails cut into my skin and blood trickles onto my skin.

  Stephen swings me around and slams me against the wall. It drives the breath out of my lungs. I’m gasping as he leans close into my face and says, “Bitch, stop giving me problems or else I’ll just kill you.”

  Or else he’ll just kill me?

  What the hell is going on?

  My heartbeat, already frantic, doubles again as Stephen grabs my upper arm again and drags me towards the exit. We slip through the curtain hanging in the doorway. The hallway wreaks of urine. I turn to look over my shoulder, hoping to see my roommates, but no one is looking.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to come up with a way to escape. But my mind is hazy, the alcohol still affecting my brain. Stephen marches me down the hall.

  A bright light hits my eyes when someone opens the exit door. My hand comes up to shield my sight as I blink rapidly. My legs refuse to move and my stomach lurches. It’s had enough, and it won’t stay still anymore. Puke flies from my mouth, splashing against the decrepit red carpet below my feet.

  “Fucking gross,” the new guy who’s standing in the doorway yelps. He lowers the flashlight that was blinding me. Strings of vomit hang from my lips. I feel absolutely repulsive. “Not sure the boss will be happy with this slut puking all over.”

  “Shut up. You have the rope?” Stephen holds his hand out and I take advantage, throwing my weight at him and twisting free of his grip.

  I attempt to run down the hall. Between the booze and the heels, I feel as if the universe and gravity are conspiring to fight against me. My hands tremble and my eyes water as I reach towards the wall to keep my balance. I race back towards the crowd, towards my roommates.

  Towards safety.

  But just when I’ve almost reached the main room, someone jerks me backwards by the hair. Pain erupts in my scalp as I collapse back into his torso.

  “You dumb fucking bitch. I told you: you aren’t going anywhere.” Stephen’s voice is too calm, too calculated.

  He drags me back down the hallway by the hair as I continue to claw at him. I can feel his skin tearing under my nails, but his grip doesn’t relax even the tiniest bit.

  We get back to the exit door. “You going to help me?” Stephen’s words are clipped as he spits them at the new guy.

  “Augustin, if you fuck her up too much the boss is going to kill you.”

  “Augustin?” My voice cracks with each syllable. “I thought your name was Stephen.”

  Both men laugh as the new guy grabs my legs and the two drag me out the door. I fight back against them the best I can, but Stephen ... Augustin ... backhands me and my vision blurs. I sink to the cold asphalt as Augustin and his associate bind my ankles and wrists with rope. About five feet away is a light gray van with the engine still running. Bile creeps up my throat again.

  My head swivels from side to side as I loo
k for someone. Anyone. I need help. But the alleyway is empty. Suddenly, everything goes dark as a cloth is tied around my eyes.

  “Please,” I plead. “Please, let me go.” I don’t have much more fight left in me.

  But no one answers.

  My body is lifted and flung sideways. I land hard on cold metal and hear the squeaking of the van’s shocks. Oh God. I’m going to die. I’m never going to see my parents again. Or my friends. I’m never going to graduate or have my own family. I should’ve stayed at the apartment tonight instead of trying to be something I’m not.

  “Hurry up.” Augustin’s irate voice fills the van. “We’re going to be late. This bitch put us behind schedule.”

  “You shoulda roofied her. Woulda taken the fight right out of the cunt,” the other guy says.

  “Then what? Boss would still have my head if she’s falling all over at the auction, unable to stand.”

  Auction? What auction?

  The van lurches forward and my face hits the floor. I struggle to sit up and then inch backwards so I can lean against the wall. It’s cold against my bare shoulders.

  The two men fall silent. My mind spins, trying to make sense of what’s happening to me. The van hits a bunch of potholes and I bounce in the air a couple of times, landing hard on my butt. With my ankles and wrists tied, keeping my balance is hard, and whenever the driver makes a sharp turn, I fall over.

  Eventually, the van comes to a stop. Someone opens the door. I swallow past my fear, waiting for what comes next. Still blindfolded, I have no idea where I am. A pair of large, calloused hands grip me and pull me forward. My heels strike the ground hard and my knees buckle, but whoever is holding me keeps me from falling over.

  “Cute piece of meat,” an unfamiliar baritone voice says.

  “Yeah, that’s quite an ass she’s packing,” another voice says.

  “Fuck you.” The words come out before I can stop them and I wince, expecting someone to slap me. But all I get are a couple of chuckles. A large hand palms my ass and squeezes. I hiss through my teeth and swing sideways, but no one is there and I stumble. Again, they laugh.

  “She’s got fight in her.”

  “Don’t underestimate the bitch. Just get her upstairs before she causes trouble,” Augustin instructs.

  The man with calloused hands drags me forward while someone else shoves my shoulder from behind. I scream and scream, straining my voice, hoping someone will hear me and help. But nothing comes out, and no one helps. Instead, those around me just laugh more. Raw sobs wrack my body. I’m shaking like a leaf. With every second that passes, panic continues to consume every cell of my body.

  If I want to live, I’m going to have to fight back.

  I swing my leg at an angle, and connect with someone. The solid mass hurts my toes but I kick again. And again.

  Someone jerks my head back by my hair. “Cunt, you better knock it off.”

  Augustin.

  “Go to hell, Augustin. I hope you fucking die.” Each word I spit out at him contains as much venom as I can muster.

  “Oh, Annie. With what’s going to happen to you, that wish is something you should be making for yourself. Death would be far preferable to the future waiting for you after tonight.”

  I shiver at the icy venom in his voice. He means every word he’s saying. For the millionth time since they threw me into the back of that van, I wonder why this is happening to me. Who are these people?

  “Ain’t that right? With those lips, who wouldn’t want to fuck her mouth?” the man with the baritone voice says.

  “She’ll probably earn a pretty penny. Especially from some of the customers who like a feisty girl they can smack around,” another man says.

  Oh God.

  Auction.

  I’m up for auction. This is a sex-trafficking auction. I’ve heard of this before, but I never really believed it existed. Just trumped-up housewife gossip, or so I thought. But if I’m right, then Augustin is right. Death would be kinder.

  I go limp again. This can’t be happening. This kind of stuff isn’t real ... is it?

  “Pick up your feet.” Augustin’s voice is threatening. I do as he says.

  The climb up the staircase is more difficult than it should be and I’m not sure if that’s because of the lingering effects of the alcohol or the adrenaline coursing through my body. Maybe it’s both, but my legs are shaky and barely support my weight. After a few more steps, someone shoves me from behind and I fall to my knees before being hoisted up again.

  “Shoulda kept her on all fours. Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve seen all night,” one of the men says, and my stomach curls in disgust.

  “Your balls on a serving tray would make my night,” I growl. The alcohol is definitely fueling my loose lips. I’ve never spoken like this before. I’ve never been this angry or afraid before, either.

  In response, someone slaps me on the back of the head. Head spinning, I’m hoisted up and placed back on my feet. My heels slip a little; the new surface is slick. Something leathery wraps around my neck, too tight to be comfortable, and I squirm to get away. But it’s no use. Metal clicks around my wrist and cuts into my skin. I yank to try to free myself only to hear the clank of metal on metal.

  A collar and handcuffs.

  I hear the murmurs and shuffling of a crowd. Then, whatever material Augustin used to obstruct my vision is unceremoniously ripped off my head and I’m left staring at a room full of men and woman.

  Augustin is off to my right. Now that I can see him, I sneer in his direction as I tug against the handcuffs. My head swivels around the room as I take stock of my surroundings. I’m up on a stage, surrounded by other women who are also restrained to their own poles. The dim lights create a seductive but terrifying atmosphere, and my eyes go wide as I face the crowd again.

  A man gets on stage, microphone in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, here are the lovely ladies up for auction tonight. Enjoy, and happy bidding.”

  The crowd breaks into hoots and hollers and applause.

  My heart thunders in my chest as if attempting to break free from its bony cage. My breathing becomes shallow as I gasp for oxygen. All I have are questions.

  Where am I? How the hell do I get out of here?

  And what is about to happen next?

  Chapter Four

  Nikita

  I lean back in the chair as my gaze lingers on the brunette giving my men a hard time. The corner of my lip curls up into a slight grin when she tries to kick Augustin. She’s a fighter, and although she looks like a deer caught in headlights, she also appears to be a deer ready to take on said automobile. She’s unlike the other girls on stage, or the ones that were already sold in the first batch a half hour ago.

  The previous group was the usual trash—addicts, desperate runaways. Boring, boring, boring. Nothing I would want close to my finger, let alone my dick. I had one of my lieutenants dispose of a girl because of the way her eyes rolled up into her head. I can’t make money on someone who might die five minutes after she’s been sold. And I couldn’t exactly let her traipse out of here. Who knows where she’d go running off to, blabbing about things she should never have known?

  My attention focuses back on the beautiful girl on stage. Her legs have some meat, yet remain thin with a slight muscular undertone. Probably a runner. My gaze travels up the length of her body to her breasts. Perky, full. A perfect mouthful. Her olive skin is clear and smooth.

  “She’ll sell for a lot of money. Hopefully, enough to make this night a success,” Eitan says. “I told you Augustin would deliver someone worthwhile.”

  Sweat drips from the man’s hairline. I can’t help but smile every time a groan or grunt passes his lips. My advisor is a bit on the pale side. His eyes dart between the stage, the customers, and the screen of his iPad. He’s a weasel and a snake, but he’s my snake. The only one I trust, though even that has its limits.

  I glance around the room, taking in all the customers. Everyone is foc
used on the girl. Some are whispering to their lieutenants. Eitan is right; she will certainly bring in a lot of money. But where the hell did Augustin find this rare creature? She’s definitely not an addict. And I can’t imagine her being a runaway. She’s far too innocent to have been on the streets. I pray that she isn’t some rich brat who wanted to piss off Mommy and Daddy; otherwise, I’ll have the cops crawling around. But that won’t be my problem once she’s sold. It’s one of the terms in the contract the winning bidder has to sign—they take on all responsibility, and no refunds are given.

  I take her in once more. Her hair is a lovely shade of whiskey. The way the locks frame her eyes makes her look innocent and beautiful at the same time. But those lips, those damn lips, are cock-sucking lips. Full and plump. My dick jerks at the thought.

  I clear my throat and straighten in my seat. This is my show, my income. I’m the boss here, and showing any interest or any emotion isn’t an option. Especially with potential enemies in the room. In this world, every mob boss and lieutenant is just waiting for a sign of weakness to jump on so they can take over.

  “Eitan, how much have we made so far?” My attention bounces between the highest bidders in the room as I wait for him to answer.

  “So far, about seventy-nine thousand.” Eitan sighs, his shoulders slumping. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his hairline “I’m hoping this next lot pulls in the rest of the cash we need.”

  I grunt in agreement. I can’t afford to lose money tonight.

  The auctioneer returns to the stage. The first time we met, I pulled a gun on him for trying to duck out of one of my bars without paying his tab. But he managed to talk me out of killing him for it. Instead, I had him beaten to within an inch of his life, then I gave him a job. It turned out nicely. The man is good and has helped keep my auctions successful.

  The auctioneer taps the microphone to get everyone’s attention and I sit back, ready to enjoy the show. “Ladies and gentlemen, first up in lot five is a lovely Hispanic beauty. Bid starts at three thousand.”