My Boyfriend Sold Me on Valentine’s Night

I had a splitting headache.

I struggled to force my heavy eyelids open. My vision was blurred, and the ceiling was spinning slowly above me.

The last clear memory I had was of my boyfriend of three years, Calvin Kennedy, kneeling on one knee in a room carpeted with rose petals. He was holding out a ring.

I had drank the glass of red wine he handed me.

My body soon felt unbearably heavy.

I felt a scorching hand moving over my waist. The way he moved was hurried, harsh, and unrestrained.

"Calvin…"

I called out weakly. My voice was hoarse as though I had swallowed sand.

The man on top of me ignored me completely, burying his face in the hollow of my neck, biting and gnawing wildly. His breath was harsh and frantic.

"Quinn, you're mine…"

I felt uncomfortable.

The Calvin I knew was gentle and refined. Even when we were intimate, he was always restrained and careful with me.

He was never like this.

"Stop… I don't feel well."

I frowned, trying to push at his shoulder.

Calvin seemed not to hear me.

My nightdress was torn apart with a sharp rip.

"Calvin! I told you to stop!"

I used all my strength to shove him away, only to realize in horror that my arms were so weak I could barely lift them.

It was the wine!

Panic swallowed me whole.

"Calvin, what did you give me to drink?"

The man finally lifted his head.

His once gentle, harmless face was now twisted with raw desire.

"Quinn, don't move. You're getting sold anyway, so you might as well let me enjoy you one last time."

Sold?

My mind went blank. I thought I had misheard.

Calvin clamped down on my wrists. His hands were usually only used for typing code, but now, they were roaming all over my body, rough and desperate, trying to force my legs apart.

Humiliation drowned me.

I opened my mouth to bite him, but even my teeth were chattering.

"Go away! Don't touch me!"

I struggled desperately, but under the drug's influence, my resistance was weak and almost inviting.

That only made him more excited.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his movements were savage, like he was venting something long suppressed.

The drugs left me without even the strength to bite my tongue. I could only lie there like a fish on a chopping block, staring in despair as he was about to cross the final line.

He was just about to do it.

His movements came to an abrupt halt at that critical moment.

It was as though he remembered something utterly terrifying. His face went deathly pale, and the desire in his eyes was replaced by sheer fear.

"No…" He panted as he muttered to himself.

"What if they reject her because she's already been touched? I'd be done for."

In the end, greed and the instinct to survive defeated his lust.

"Damn it!"

He cursed under his breath and slapped himself hard across the face. Still unwilling to stop, he gave my body one last vicious squeeze before rolling off me in frustration.

The next second, Calvin suddenly began to sob.

"Quinn, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

He cried as he trembled, gently stroking my cheek.

"I really love you. I can't bear to let you go.

"But I have no choice. I really don't."

I forced down the humiliation and rage, keeping my voice as gentle as I could.

"What happened?"

Calvin sniffed. His face was full of sorrow and false devotion.

"Quinn, you're too beautiful. You're perfect.

"Only your beauty, blonde hair, blue eyes, and flawless skin can satisfy Jackson.

"As long as he takes you, all my gambling debts will be wiped clean."

My heart clenched violently.

"Who?"

Fear and reverence filled Calvin's face.

"Jackson Grant.

"He's the new mafia Godfather. He's a legend.

"They say he came from the slums and used to be the old Godfather's daughter's bodyguard. He fought his way up. His means were violently cruel.

"He loves beautiful blonde women. Quinn, you'll save me, won't you?"

A thunderclap exploded in my mind.

The fragile hope I was clinging to crashed and shattered.

Jackson Grant.

It really was him.

The little bodyguard who once ran across half of New York just because I craved a Napoleon pastry.

The ex-boyfriend I slapped in public, humiliated like a dog, and abandoned without mercy.

Now, my current boyfriend was actually going to sell me to this newly risen Godfather who hated me with a passion.

Fate really loved to pick on the ones who had the worst luck.