LOGINShare
Chapter 1 - Elena
publish date:
2026-03-20 21:30:09Elena
The necklace is worth more than my entire life. I can feel it. Cold diamonds wrapped tight around my throat like a warning I don’t understand.
“Don’t touch it too much,” the event manager snaps as she adjusts it for the third time. “You’re modelling it, not fidgeting with it.”
“I’m not…” I start, but she’s already moved on.
Of course she has. To her, I’m just another body in a dress. Another girl for the night. Another… “Stand straight,” she adds over her shoulder. “Smile. Wealthy clients only. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
I nod, even though something about all of this feels… off. The dress is black. Tight. Elegant. Too elegant for a simple serving job. And the jewelry… The collar alone feels excessive.
A diamond band wrapped around my throat, matching bracelets stacked along both wrists, a heavy ring catching the light every time I move. I was told this was a jewellery auction.
High-end. Exclusive. Easy money. Stand there. Smile. Let rich people look at the pieces. That’s it. That’s what I signed up for. So why does it feel like I’m the one being displayed?
The room is already filling when we’re led out. Soft music. Low voices. Expensive suits. Everything screams money. But the way the men look at us… It’s wrong.
It’s not the jewelry they’re watching. It’s us. I shift slightly, uncomfortable under the weight of their attention. Okay. Fine. Rich men. Drunk. Creepy. Not new. I can handle that. I’ve handled worse. Right?
“Spread out,” the manager instructs quietly. “Walk. Slowly. Let them see the pieces.”
I nod again, forcing a small smile onto my lips as I step forward. Just do the job. Get paid. Go home. That’s it.
At first, it almost feels normal. Almost. Men approach, glance at the jewelry, and ask quiet questions. “How much is the set?” “Is it a real diamond?” “Who designed it?”
I answer what I can. Deflect what I can’t. Keep smiling. Keep moving. But then… A hand brushes my hip. Too low. Too deliberate.
I flinch slightly, stepping away. The man smirks. “Relax,” he murmurs. “You’re here to be admired, aren’t you?”
My stomach tightens. “Please don’t touch me,” I say, keeping my voice polite.
He chuckles like I’ve just told a joke. I move further into the room. Away from him. Away from the feeling crawling under my skin. And that’s when I notice it. The other girls.
They’re dressed like me. All of them. Black dresses. Diamond collars. Matching sets. Too similar to be a coincidence. Too… uniform. My chest tightens.
This isn’t just a jewellery event. This…
“Hey,” one of the girls whispers as I pass her. Her eyes are wide, panicked. “Do you know what this is?”
“Jewelry modelling? I don’t know,” I admit, my voice low. “But something’s wrong.”
She nods quickly. “They told me the same thing. That we were just modelling…”
Her words cut off abruptly. Because a man grabs her wrist. Hard. “Come,” he says, already pulling her away. “No, wait, what?” She stumbles after him, panic rising in her voice.
No one stops it. No one reacts. Like it’s normal. Like it’s expected. My heart starts pounding. Fast. Too fast. Something is very, very wrong.
I turn… And someone presses against me from behind. My breath catches as a hand lands on my lower back. Then lower. Too low. My entire body goes rigid.
“Get off me,” I snap, shoving back.
The man laughs, his breath hot against my ear. “Feisty. I like that.”
Disgust surges through me. I twist, trying to move away, but another man steps in front of me. Blocking my path.
“Where are you going?” he asks, eyes dragging over me slowly.
“I’m leaving,” I say sharply.
His smile widens. “No, you’re not.”
Something cold settles in my chest. Not fear. Not yet. Something sharper. Realization. I try to push past him. He doesn’t move. “Move,” I demand.
Instead, his hand grips my arm. Tight.
Painfully tight. “Time to go backstage,” he says.
“I’m not going anywhere with you…” His grip tightens further. My breath hitches.
“Don’t make this difficult.”
Panic hits. Full force. I yank my arm back, trying to break free. “Let go of me!”
Heads turn. People look. But no one helps. No one steps in. Because this isn’t wrong to them. This is part of it.
“No!” I shout, struggling harder. “Let me go…”
Another man steps in behind me. And suddenly, I’m surrounded. Trapped. My heart is racing too fast, my breathing uneven as they start moving me. Forcing me. Dragging me.
“No… this isn’t what I signed up for…”
“Quiet,” one of them snaps.
I fight. I twist. I try to pull away. But they’re stronger. And there are too many of them. The doors open. And everything changes.
The room is darker. Larger. Filled with men sitting in rows. Watching. Waiting. A stage stands at the center. Bright lights shining down on it. My stomach drops. No. No, no, no…
“Move,” one of the men orders, pushing me forward. I stumble. Barely catching myself as I’m forced toward the stage.
“This is a mistake,” I say, my voice shaking now. “You’ve got the wrong person…” No one listens. Of course they don’t. Because I’m not a person anymore. I’m a product.
The lights hit me. Blinding. Hot. Exposing. I freeze. Every single eye in the room locks onto me. Not the necklace. Not the bracelets. Me.
“Lot twelve,” a voice announces.
My ears ring. My hands shake. “No,” I whisper, backing up slightly. “No, I’m not…”
“Starting at five hundred thousand.”
The number slams into me. A hand goes up.
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
“One million.”
The bids rise fast. Too fast. Like I’m nothing. Like I’m easy to buy.
Tears burn in my eyes. I won’t cry. I won’t…
“Two million.”
The room goes silent. The voice is different. Low. Controlled. Irish.
I turn. Slowly. And I see him. He’s sitting in the shadows. Relaxed. Untouchable. Like he owns the room without even trying.
Dark hair. Sharp features. Cold eyes locked directly on me. And something in my chest… drops. Because he’s not looking at me like the others. Not with hunger. Not with curiosity.
With certainty.
“Two million,” the auctioneer repeats, his tone shifting slightly.
“Do we have higher?”
Silence. Heavy. Final.
And then… A man stands. Across the room. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. Dangerous.
“I’ll make it three,” he says smoothly.
A murmur spreads through the crowd. Tension. Real tension. And suddenly… Everything shifts.
A figure appears beside him. Tall. Silent. Deadly. I don’t even see him move. One second, he’s not there. Next, a gun is pressed to the man’s temple.
The room goes completely still. “Sit down,” the man says quietly.
His voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that promises violence.
The man’s jaw tightens. But slowly… He sits. No one else bids. No one even breathes.
“Two million,” the auctioneer says again, faster now. Nervous. “Sold.”
My heart stops. Because I don’t know who that man is. The one who just bought me. The one who didn’t even hesitate. The one who silenced an entire room with a single number.
But I know one thing. The way he’s looking at me now… is not temporary. It’s ownership.
And somehow… that’s worse than anything else in this room.
Latest chapter
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 20 - Ronan
Then — Ronan, seventeenI don’t sit down.I stand in the doorway of the study with the rain dripping off my hair onto the tiles, and I look at the photograph lying face up on my father’s blotter. The little grey shape. The flicker of a heartbeat frozen in black and white. Our daughter, the size of a bean, curled in the dark.My father turns my mother’s silver rosary case over in his fingers.“You should keep your mother’s things more carefully,” he says. “Mrs Doyle found this when she was changing your sheets. She brought it straight to me.” He clicks the lid shut. “She’s a very loyal woman, Mrs Doyle.”“Where is she?” I ask.“Sit down, Ronan.”“Where is she?”My father sighs, as if I’m being tiresome. He nudges the second glass of whiskey across the desk towards me with one finger.“She’s at Dr B
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 19 - Ronan
RonanFor a long moment, neither of us moves.She’s still holding the front of my T-shirt in both fists, and I’m still on my knees beside the bed, and the room is so quiet that I can hear the lake moving against the shore outside. Her eyes are open. She’s awake now, properly awake. I watch her come all the way back into herself, and realise what she’s just said.I watch her want to take it back. “Red,” I tell her.She lets go of my shirt. Her hands fall into her lap, and she sits up slowly against the headboard, pulling the blanket round her shoulders, and the ring on its chain glints at her throat in the moonlight. She doesn’t look at me. She looks at the wall.“I was dreaming,” she says.“Ye weren’t,” I tell her.“Ronan…”“Ye said he was still breathing,” I tell her. My voice
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 18 - Ronan
RonanWhen I wake up, she’s standing in the kitchen in my hoodie, burning pancakes.For a long moment, I don’t move. I lie on the sofa under the blanket with my arm still curled round the warm space where she was, and I watch her through the doorway. The storm has blown itself out, and the morning is pale and clean, with sunlight coming off the lake in wavering silver lines across the ceiling. She’s barefoot on the wooden floor, with the sleeves of my hoodie shoved up to her elbows and her hair a wild red tangle down her back. She’s frowning at the frying pan as if it has personally insulted her.Smoke is rising from it in a thin grey ribbon.“Red,” I say.She jumps and spins round, spatula raised like a weapon. Then she sees me, and her face does something soft that I’d forgotten it could do.“Don’t say anything,” she tells me.“I wasn’t going to,” I tell h
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 17 - Ronan
Then — Ronan, seventeenShe’s sitting on the potting bench in the greenhouse when I come in, with her hands folded in her lap, and she doesn’t get up to kiss me. That’s how I know something’s wrong.It’s a cold, bright afternoon in March, with the sun coming slantwise through the cracked panes and lighting up the dust in the air. My mother’s old sign is still hanging crooked on its nail. Please don’t touch the babies. There’s a jam jar of daffodils on the bench beside Aoife that she must have picked on the way down, and she’s staring at them as if they might tell her what to say.“Red?” I ask.She looks up at me. Her face is very pale, and her eyes are red, and she’s been crying. My whole body goes cold. I’m across the greenhouse and on my knees in front of her before I know I’ve moved, my hands on her knees, looking up into her face.“What did
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 16 - Aoife
AoifeThe storm comes over the mountains a little after midnight, and the power goes out with the first crack of thunder.I’m lying awake in Liam’s spare room, in the dark, listening to it come. I’ve been listening for an hour. First the wind, rising in the pines around the cabin. Then the low grumble far away over the lake, getting closer. Then the rain, starting soft and then coming down all at once, hammering on the tin roof so hard that it sounds like a thousand fists.And then I can’t breathe.Because I know that sound. Rain on a roof like this, loud enough to drown out the whole world. Rain on glass, in a greenhouse at the bottom of a kitchen garden, while a boy who could barely get his words out told me he was mad about me.I get up. I’m wearing a T-shirt and a pair of thick wool socks that Liam left folded on the end of the bed, and one of Ronan’s hoodies, which I took off the back of a chair this afterno
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 15 - Aoife
Then — Aoife, sixteenMam goes to the market in town every second Thursday, and she always leaves me a list.This Thursday, it’s pinned to the kitchen door in her careful, slanting hand. Scald the milk for the custard. Peel the potatoes. Fetch two pounds of flour and the good jam down from the pantry. Don’t let the range go out. Back by four. Love, Mam.I’ve done the milk and the potatoes. I’m humming when I go into the pantry, because Ronan is in the stable yard helping Paddy with the new mare, and when he’s finished, he’ll come round to the kitchen door like he does every second Thursday, and sneak in, and steal a spoonful of whatever’s on the stove, and kiss me against the dresser while I pretend to be cross.It’s a year since the greenhouse. A whole year of secrets and stolen afternoons, and his father has never suspected a thing. We’ve been so careful.The pantry is narrow and cold an
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 4 - Elena
ElenaI stay where I am for a second longer than I should, my back still pressed against the wall, my lungs working too hard as I try to steady my breathing. My heart hasn’t slowed since the auction. Since the car. Since him. Every word he said is still sitting in my head, sharp and suffocating: ma
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 2 - Cillian
Chapter 2 CillianI don’t believe in fate. I believe in control. In power. In making decisions before anyone else even realizes there’s a choice to be made. That’s how you stay alive in my world. That’s how you stay on top.Which is exactly why I’m here. Not for the spectacle. Not for the fucking
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 5 - Elena
ElenaI don’t realize how tense my body is until he tells me to walk again.“Come,” Cillian says, his voice calm, controlled, like everything in his world already bends to him, and I hate how my body reacts to it before my brain does. I hesitate for half a second, just enough to remind myself I don
Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss Chapter 3 - Cillian
CillianShe’s shaking. Trying not to show it. Trying to hold herself together like she still has some kind of control over this situation. She doesn’t.The elevator is silent except for the sound of her breathing, too fast, too uneven. I watch her from across the space, my hands in my pockets, taki
You May Also Like
Mafia's Sinful Desire
Pria Ambre104.0K viewsMafia Men VI - Alessandro's Games
Janedoewritings101.7K viewsTied to the mafia man 3 : Mia
Pravs_3618169.2K viewsMafia King's Innocent Bride
Snowmonn140.8K viewsTHE MAFIA DOLL
IBRAHIM BRAIMOH275 viewsThe Don’s Wrong Bride: Now He’s Obsessed With Her
Page Slayer2.3K viewsLA DOCTORA
Spark ville558 viewsThe wife I was meant to hate
Sharon 219 views
