Chapter 2 – Sold, Sight Unseen

Present Day, 3weeks later 

"Is this some kind of mistake?"

Celeste yanked her arm from the suited man's hold. His fingers were digging into her arm. “Let me go! You can't just drag me off campus like this!” 

The man in the suit didn't move. “It's orders, Miss Rivera and it's not up for discussion.” 

“Did I do something wrong? You can't just drag me off like I'm a criminal!” Celeste's heels clinked loudly outside Georgetown's art building. Her fingers were clutching her bag a little too tightly and she was struggling to keep her breathing level.

She saw several students, already forming a small crowd outside the art building. She knew the news would be all over the school soon.

“You're causing a damn scene!” She whispered now, but harshly. The man didn't reply.

This felt like politics and like her father. Like another mess she’d have to untangle before the press found out. There was a black SUV waiting at the curb and it shone brightly against D.C.’s usually gray sky.

“Where are you taking me?” she snapped, sliding into the leather seat anyway, refusing to show nerves. There were two other SUV's trailing behind them.

“Your flight’s waiting.” the suited man finally said.

“Flight? Flight to where?” She was shaking now. She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she tapped the screen furiously. She tried to call her father but it went straight to voicemail. She tried Vivian and Sasha but no one was answering.

“If my father hears about this, he'll come for you all.” She said aloud. Her own voice felt foreign to her. She stared out the window, eyes narrowing as they passed through the back entrance of the airport and then quiet tarmacs, until the vehicle rolled to a stop beside a white and gold private jet.

“Where are we going?” She refused to come down from the SUV. “Are you kidnapping me? Is this a ransom thing? I can call my father and sort this all out. Just let me go.”

No one answered. Instead the suited man pulled her roughly out of the car. Champagne was already poured on a crystal tray when she boarded. She didn’t touch it.

“Everything will be explained when you get to Italy.” 

Celeste suddenly felt dizzy. “Italy? What the fuc—” 

“Please, take a seat.” The man cut her off, taking a seat opposite her. As he sat, she caught a flash of his gun.

She crossed her legs as she sat, her gold-heeled pump dangling slightly, and adjusted the soft lavender coat she wore over her cropped Dior blouse and high-waist cream pants. She looked expensive, like the daughter of a Senator that she was.

The jet cut through the clouds like a blade. Her nerves had time to twist themselves into knots, and when they finally landed, the sun was burning over foreign cliffs and sea air poured in through the opened cabin door.

They'd arrived in Sicily, Italy.

The second she stepped onto the tarmac, another SUV was waiting. There was still no explanation, just another silent ride through winding coastal roads and hilltop vineyards until they stopped in front of something straight out of a fantasy.

An Ivory stoned fortress stood before her, wrapped in green ivy. Terraces with glass rails that overlooked the cerulean sea crashing below. And on the tallest floor, there was a wall of windows catching the morning sun.

“Where am I?” Celeste whispered, stepping out of the SUV when it came to a stop, shielding her eyes and avoiding being dragged again.

“Come Inside.” The suited man ordered.

She didn’t want to obey. But she was done asking questions no one would answer and she was curious to see for herself.

The marble floors beneath her heels clicked as she walked down the corridor. Her lips parted when she saw the staircase. It was back wrought iron curling like lace and Crystal chandeliers dripping from high ceilings. Walls lined with oil paintings and golden candle sconces.

“What the hell?” She muttered out loud. This was true luxury, and not the kind you couldn't buy in America. The kind soaked in power.

“Cara Mia…” 

Standing at the edge of a grand parlor, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows and holding a glass of dark liquor was a man Celeste never thought she'd see again.

The man from her one night stand two weeks ago.

“You..” She hissed, her hands curling into fists. Now she was mad at him for sneaking out the next morning. Her eyes dragged over him, and she pressed her lips together as if it would save her from the tingles spreading through her body at the sight of him.

 standing at the edge of a grand parlor, backlit by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight hit the dark glass in his hand and cast a warm amber glow over his knuckles. He was dressed like sin, in black slacks and a shirt undone at the collar, like the rules didn’t apply to him.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You bastard.”

God, he looked even better than she remembered. Like a Roman statue brought to life. All cut lines and sharp jaw, dark stubble and darker eyes. The kind of man women didn’t walk away from. The kind who made you forget how to breathe.

And dammit, her body remembered him.

He smirked, his eyes slipping down her front, to her cleavage peeking through her V-necked top. 

“Welcome to Sicily,” he said smoothly. His voice was deep, smooth like whiskey. Then he tilted his head and let his eyes settle on her chest. “And are your nipples always this hard?”

Celeste blinked. Did he really just—?

“Asshole,” she snapped.

She should hit him. Throw something. But her legs refused to move, too distracted by the way his eyes burned into her skin.

Her hair was still perfect from her morning blowout, her waist cinched tight in her black Prada skirt, but she suddenly felt exposed. Not because she was underdressed. But because he saw through her. Right through.

“You’re still as pretty as I remember,” he murmured, and something in her stomach did a stupid little flip.

She took a step back. “What the hell is going on? Why did you have me dragged away from school? If my father finds out—”

“You were sold, Celeste.” He said, cutting me off. He took a step forward and she took one back.

 “Excuse me?” she blinked.

 “Your father owed me five million dollars. He couldn’t pay. So he offered something more valuable.”

Her mouth went dry. “No. You’re lying. My father would never.”

“He signed the deal himself.” he smirked. “You’re here because I want you. Do you remember the masked night two weeks ago and that night in New York, a month ago?” His voice was sultry and tempting.

Her stomach flipped, and she felt goosebumps on her arm. But he continued. “I never forgot.” He swirled the drink in his hand. “You said no to me once. But now… you’re mine.”

“I’m not property and when did I say no to you? We had a one night stand and that was it.” She spat out.

He laughed. “It hurts that you don't remember that night in New York. I asked you and your friend to join me in the VIP section and you cussed out the men I sent.”

Heat flamed her cheeks as she remembered perfectly now. It was before her engagement got cancelled. She'd gone to New York with Vivian to check out wedding dresses and Vivian had suggested they hit the club that night.

“I can see you remember, Cara Mia…” 

She eyed him, her tongue suddenly feeling heavy. She'd turned that invitation to join a suspicious looking man, even if she did not see his face properly that night— with bodyguards and heavily tattooed men around him.

Vivian had called her a kill joy.

“You can't be serious.” She scoffed, then folded her arms across her chest. “I was just being cautious. Is that what all this is about? Is that why you'd left the next morning like I was some girl off the street?” 

She was getting annoyed now. Had he known that masked night when she'd walked up to him? 

“Was it all a plan? That masked night at the bar?” She was trembling now, and it was all she could do not to scream at him. She felt stupid.

He took a menacing step forward but she didn't move back. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of her, close enough that if she moved, she might have kissed him.

“You're here because you need to be taught a lesson. No one ever says no to Azrael Valenti.”

She turned sharply. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not.”

“I will scream. I’ll run. I’ll—”

“Where?” he asked coolly. “You're in the cliffs of western Sicily. No signal. No road signs. You don’t even speak the language.”

Her jaw clenched, and her eyes flashed with barely concealed anger. “Go fuck yourself.”

Azrael stepped closer, slowly, like a predator. “You belong to me now. I’ll decide when you sleep, what you wear… and what you say…” His fingers lifted a lock of her hair, brushing it behind her ear. “…and who touches you.” He let his eyes drag down her throat, her chest, her waist. “Me. Only me.”

She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't. The heat from him was overwhelming.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why me?”

“Because I enjoyed that night. A little too much, and your father is just a greedy man I'd love to toy with later in the future.”

He stepped back and nodded to the man beside her. “Take her to her room.”

Celeste spun. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Azrael ’s voice snapped like a whip. “You are. Now.”

And then she felt herself getting lifted and carried out of the room. This man was serious. He'd slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Put me down, Azrael!” 

Azrael ignored her and he carried her to a glass walled bedroom upstairs overlooking the sea, even as she beat furiously against his back. Inside the room, it smelled like fresh jasmine.

Then he put her down. “This is your room.”

She looked at him and then at the door, thinking that she might bolt. But where would she run to? She surrendered. She turned away from him and moved to the closet, throwing it open. 

“I don't have anything to wear. Your men literally kidnapped me.”

The sheets on the bed were sillk and when she threw open the closet, she only saw lingeries. Silk, lace, satin in different shades of blush pink, ivory, maroon and blood red.

And nothing else. She stared at it, rage bubbling inside her. “What is this?”

“A gift,”

She spun, hands fisting him chest. “You think this is normal?”

“No,” he said, grabbing and gathering her hands in his, as he stared her down. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her face. “But I don’t do normal.”

His eyes dropped to the bare strip of skin showing above her waistband. “Sleep,” he murmured. “You’ll need your strength.”

“For what?”

He smiled, then pinned her hands to the closet behind her. “For when I decide to collect what’s mine.”