I became a sex slave to my mafia ex-boyfriend.

CHAPTER ONE 

Amelia’s POV                      

“Five million!”

“It’s a deal then. Check if she’s intact so we can sell her off!”

Tears burned my eyes as I sat curled in the corner of the room. The thick cloth gag between my teeth pinned my tongue down, smothering my pleas for mercy.

My gaze wandered to the other end of the room where three men stood, their backs turned to me as they discussed the price of selling me off like a bag of potatoes.

One of them turned, a grin spreading across his lips when he saw me struggling against the restraints binding my wrists and ankles.

“Give up. You’re about to be sold to the highest bidder,” he said, crouching down to my level. He gripped my chin, forcing it up, his fingers digging into my skin.

“You’re still intact, and you seem fine. I’m sure the men will go crazy at the sight of you.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes devouring me lustfully.

I jerked my face away, and his finger scraped across my cheek. Pain stung instantly, and I let out a muffled moan.

“Shit!” he yelped. The other two rushed over, eyes flicking to him first before landing on me.

“What did you do to her? We were told not to lay a hand on her!”

“I don’t know, man—she’s just so feisty,” the first one grunted, wiping my blood onto his sleeve.

“Get the other girls ready. Once she’s dressed, we move tonight,” the one who seemed most dangerous ordered. The other two nodded. They all walked out, ignoring my muffled cries, and locked the door behind them.

Now I was alone, blood smearing my cheek and zip ties cutting into my skin.

I had no idea how much time had passed since I’d been taken. I didn’t even remember how I’d gotten here. The only thing I recalled was passing out after a glass of champagne given to me by my friends.

Right. My friends. The club.

The memories came flooding back with force. I had gone to the club with my friends, and despite trying to coerce them into leaving, they refused.

“Can’t we just go to another club?” I’d asked, my voice heavy with exhaustion. We’d been standing at the entrance for hours; the line barely moved.

“This is one of the best clubs in the city, Amy, we can’t leave,” Zara had said. Then, with a raised brow, she’d added, “Or don’t you want to hang out with us? Is this one of your silly excuses again?”

I should’ve been offended by her calling my work a silly excuse, but I wasn’t. I understood her more than anyone could.

Out of the five of us, I was the only one with a good-paying job, which took up most of my time. As a result of that, I never had the time to hang out with them, and they took that as an act of me belittling them ‘cause of the nature of my job. They believed my absence meant I thought I was better than them.

Wanting to prove them wrong, I agreed to hang out with them tonight. I was already regretting it. To make it worse, my feet ached in the heels I’d worn.

“Of course I want to hang out with you guys, but…” I glanced down at my shoes. “My feet are killing me.”

Sandra scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’re all wearing heels, so quit complaining, will you?”

I shut my mouth and kept quiet. After another hour of waiting, it was finally our turn, and we were allowed inside.

To my surprise, we were led straight to the VIP lounge. My friends didn’t even look confused.

“What’s going on? The sign clearly says ‘Exclusives only.’ Why are we here?” I whispered to Stephanie.

“Just play along, babes. You don’t even know how it works, so relax and have fun, okay?” she reassured me.

I swallowed down the uneasiness building in my throat, which didn’t work at all, ’cause I was uneasy as hell. Inside, the VIP lounge was more lavish than the main floor—each group had its own private compartment.

Zara stopped at one where four men in expensive suits stood. Their rings glittered under the dim lights.

My friends rushed toward them, each pressing against a man. I stood awkwardly in place, embarrassed. Was this the “fun” they were talking about—leaving me out while they entertained strangers?

I was debating whether to leave when one of the men caught my eye, looking me over.

“This is her?” he asked. Zara nodded.

“Come here, Amy. I told Jack about you already,” she grinned, beckoning me over.

I sat beside her, and she wrapped an arm around me. “So, Amy, Jack here thinks you’re an introvert and some holy girl just because you’ve never hung out with us before. But I told him that’s not true, right?” She raised her brows at me.

I tilted my head. Was she actually expecting me to defend myself?

“Jack is wrong. Amelia’s not an introvert—she’s just busy with work,” Kesha said.

I nodded quickly, unsure what else to do.

“Really?” Jack smirked.

At that moment, a waitress arrived with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of champagne. When she left, Jack turned back to me.

“Tequila or champagne?”

“Champagne,” I replied. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I had to be at work by six a.m. tomorrow.

“See? I told you she’s an introvert!” Jack laughed, pouring me a glass. “Have it—it’s all yours.”

I ignored his comment and downed the champagne in one go. They all cheered.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad—

That thought vanished when a sharp ringing filled my ears. I flinched, grabbing the man beside me.

“Relax, darling. It’s not even that strong,” he chuckled.

“It’s…” My words slurred. My vision blurred. The last thing I heard was my friends calling my name before everything went black.

“Down to earth, bitch!”

A rough voice cut through my thoughts. I blinked, finding myself staring into the cold eyes of one of the men who’d abducted me.

I hadn’t noticed when they’d returned—I’d been lost in my thoughts. If I’d passed out from the drink my friends gave me, how the hell had I ended up here?

And what about my friends?

I tried to speak, but the gag smothered my voice. Instead, all I could do was watch as one of the men slung me over his shoulder and carried me out of the room.