Page 10 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

I draw the white comforter, as soft as a cloud, closeraround me, trying to hold my voice steady. “You bought me?”

“We did.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think,gattina?

Little kitten. No one’s ever called me something likethat before, and as sweet as the pet name is, it fills me with dread. I couldguess why this man and his brothers crossed the city to pay an exorbitant pricefor me, and I don’t believe it’s out of the goodness of their hearts.

I was young when I left this life, but my mama told meall the stories. I know more about the inside of this filthy world than mostgirls who are still connected to it. Women aren’t brought into confidenceunless they’re married or have women in their family with loose lips. The looselips only come with foolishness or a separation from the threat. My mama’stongue spilled secrets from a mixture of both.

But I remember this man myself. I remember getting lostin the Venturi house, opening the door to a room, and seeing him kissing awoman passionately against the wall. His trousers were around his ass, and thewoman was making funny noises I didn’t understand the significance of at thetime. He’d turned at the sound of the door rasping over the thick cream carpetand stared at me as I cowered and then ran.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized what I hadstumbled across.

“I don’t think it was out of the goodness of yourheart,” I say. “Men always expect a return on their investment.” I leave outthe ‘like you’ part because I don’t want to make this personal, even though itis. Poking the bear too hard is a risk I’m not ready to take. If there’s even aslight chance he’s playing with me and about to take me home, I need to leavethe door open.

“A return.” He rubs his chin, the stubble raspingagainst his rough fingertips, then he makes his fingers into a gun and pullsthe trigger. “Bingo.” His deadly expression steals the air from my lungs. “Yourfather,” he continues, his voice a smooth, lethal purr. “Where is he?”

I shake my head, heart pounding. “I told you, I haven’tseen him in years.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t know where he is.”

“I don’t. He left and didn’t look back.”

“Pity.” Antonio leans forward slightly, elbows restingon his knees, the upper part of his face disappearing into the shadows. “If wecan’t extract blood through him, we’ll have to take it from you instead.”

A chill spreads through my veins. “I don’t knowanything,” I whisper, my grip on the comforter increasing until my hands shakewith the effort. “If I did, I’d tell you. I owe my father no loyalty. He’s donenothing for me.”

I don’t tell him that I suspect my father is responsiblefor the death of Mario, the oldest Venturi brother. Or that I suspect thereason for his betrayal. I don’t tell him that our family wears the emotionaland physical scars Carlo doled out so easily before he disappeared.

“Ah,gattina. Family is everything. Loyalty is everything. Bloodis everything.”

The blood rushing through my veins chills. “Even whenblood betrays you?”

Antonio narrows his eyes, holding me captive throughnothing but a narrow slit of icy steel. Tears burn my throat and dangle at theedges of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I grit my teeth, fistsclenching the sheets. Begging won’t save me. Mercy is not something men likeAntonio Venturi understand.

He stands and strides forward so quickly that it makesme scramble back. From the end of the bed, he towers over me, asheartbreakingly beautiful as Lucifer and just as deadly. His presence is asthick as incense in the air, as mesmerizing as a violin solo, hair dark and shortas velvet, revealing the angles of his sharp jawline. His black sweater, mostlikely cashmere, looks more expensive than every outfit in my wardrobe, and hepushes at the sleeves restlessly.

He’s a vicious weapon in a stunning shell. I bite theinside of my lips, holding tightly to my desperate instincts to beg for myfreedom.

I want to go home. I need to see my mama. My aunt haslittle time left, and everyone must be worried sick about me. Have my familyreported me missing yet? Are the police out looking for me?

Antonio kneels on the bed, his thighs stretching hiscrisply pressed dark pants as he moves closer, so predator-like, I quiver likeprey. His hand, whip-fast, grips my jaw, and he tilts my chin until I have nochoice but to look at him. His eyes are almost colorless in the low light,ethereal and unnatural, his breathtaking angular face set with darkdetermination. His hand is so strong that my bones creak. “Understand this,” hesays through gritted teeth. “From this moment on, you’re ours. You belong to us.You’re Venturi property. Not Aemelia. NotLambretti.” He sneers at my name.“You aregattina.No past, no future. You. Are. Bait. You understand.”

Little kitten. Bought to secure retribution for a lostbrother.

Little kitten. Owned by three ruthless mafiosi who wantmy father’s head.

Little kitten. Captive and under Venturi control

I don’t flinch. I don’t move. But inside, I’m screaming.

5

ANTONIO

THE COST OF DEFIANCE

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