THE DARK AGREEMENT

Chapter 3

I was done for the day, but with me being desperate to pay Antonio as soon as possible, I tried to see if I could still make money from tips, so I redid my makeup.

"You did well," Rosita said, and I smiled. She didn't need to tell me, I knew already, but I still thanked her for the compliment so I would not look at his name, Antonio, or sometimes Tony when he was being a pain in the ass. Though Rosita was the closest thing to a friend in the cellar door, her fucking Antonio was a major screw up. I couldn't help but recall the camaraderie I shared with my fellow dancers. We were a tight-knit group, supporting each other through the highs and lows of this profession. Memories of laughter, shared experiences, and the feeling of belonging warmed my heart.

"The boss wanted to see you," Rosita said. I laughed at the way he had summoned me after our encounter earlier tonight.

"Good luck," she added, which was weird since she never told me good luck if I wanted to go into Antonio's office.

When we finally reached Tony's office, Rosita opened the door, introduced me, and excused us. I hated the fact she acted like Tony's secretary when I knew for a fact they were more than that, probably lovers, or she was just one of the girls he was fucking.

"What did you want? You were interrupting my money making," I said, going straight to the point.

"Why were you so forward, Luna?" he asked, and I smiled. I was trained that way, asshole.

I didn't take it as much, but it became clear this wasn't an ordinary meeting when I entered Antonio's office. I was greeted by Antonio's face and the man whom I danced for earlier, the dark lord, as one of the men in the lounge called him.

"Sit Laura," Antonio said, and I raised my brows at him. He had never called me by my real name for fifteen years. What was so special about this brooding dark man that warranted Antonio to use my name?

"Meet Matteo Russo," Antonio said to me, which was more suspicious since Antonio never introduced me to any of our clients. But somehow the name Matteo Russo sounded familiar— it was a name I heard people speak in hushed tones, a name I never placed much importance to, until that very night. The name that birthed this story—my story.

"Nice to meet you, Laura," he said. The way he said my name with his Italian accent made me shiver. Most of the men here were Italian, like Antonio and the other underbosses, but this man's voice was more refined, more sophisticated. The way he spoke calmly yet authoritatively gave me both chills and butterflies. It was as if I could hear a hidden British accent but dominated by his mother's tongue.

"Likewise," I said, my reply was short and intentional. The man's gaze scared me. It wasn't a violent look or anything, it was a look a man gives to the woman he wants to fuck. A look of hunger and lust.

"Your services are no longer needed at the cellar door," Antonio simply stated. Earlier today, I would have been elated by that news, but at that very moment, when it became clear that Antonio didn't want to let me go, I became worried.

"Are you kicking me out?" I asked, and he laughed. Both men laughed evenly. I raised an eyebrow; if it wasn't the dark lord, I would have given Antonio a piece of my mind, but something about the man's presence prevented me from acting out.

"I want the girl," Matteo simply stated. My eyes bulged out, and I laughed.

"Do you realize I'm right here?" I asked the two men who were starting a conversation concerning me, forgetting I was sitting right here.

"You can't have her," Antonio said. "She's here as my slave . . . worker till she pays off her father's debt." Antonio said and I let out a dry laugh. He means a debt intentionally increasing so as to make paying it off impossible.

"How much does she owe? I'll pay double," the dark lord said.

"Am I really worth three million dollars?" I asked myself, what did I have except for normal ass, boobs, and a pussy that would prompt the dark lord to pay three million dollars and more.

"You've been promoted," says Antonio, and that was when I started laughing hard, what did he promote me to? His pimp? The dark lord's whore? Maybe he wants me to recruit girls for him, I'd rather strip than do that.

"You've been requested by Mr. Russo here," he said. I looked at both of them in shock. Requested? As what?

"As what?" I asked with sarcasm evident in my voice.

"As my sex slave," Matteo Russo said, and I choked, I didn't just choke but I laughed out my heart. This had to be a joke.

"You can't just request me as if I am a sex toy or something, we have girls for that, sir," I said standing up, ready to take my leave. Matteo Russo's hands gripped my waist, turning me round so we could face each other eye to eye. It was then I noticed some distinct features he had, his piercing icy blue eyes and of course his jawline, sharp enough to cut steak. And then that ever plump lips.

"If you leave, consider yourself dead," Matteo said. I raised my eyebrows, daring him to do it.

"I'll choose death a hundred times over being your sex slave," I said to him, which caused him to laugh.

"She's a feisty one," Matteo commented, Antonio laughed as if Matteo had said the funniest thing on earth.

"You have no idea," Antonio commented, the two men further continued to say somethings in Italian, I hated it when people spoke foreign languages in my presence.

"Three million dollars," Antonio said. "Three million dollars and ownership of the girl will be transferred to you." Finished Antonio.

"You can't just change ownership of a person, especially if that person is right here," I said emphasizing the second statement.

"I was about to make it to five million," Matteo stated. "You'll get your money immediately. I see the girl in my car."

"We had a freaking deal," I screamed at Antonio. "I was going to pay you off and get my freedom." I screamed at Antonio who smiled as if he just won the lottery, of course, he did, the fucker just gained three million dollars for doing nothing.

"Sorry sweetheart, let's just say I got a better deal," Antonio said, his smile was larger than anything I've seen on him before. "You have five minutes to pack your bags."

"You'll regret this day, Antonio, you'll regret this day," I said staring at him with hate, turning my attention to Matteo Russo, the bastard who just bought me like a piece of meat. I smiled, then frowned again. "You'll regret ever setting your eyes on me, you'll regret buying me even, I swear over my late parents' grave to make your life miserable, even if I die trying to." And with that, I walked out . . .