CHAPTER 2

(Richard's POV)

I first saw her eyes—the same blue eyes the young woman Isabella had brought to my birthday party at the clubhouse.

How was this possible?

I had only arrived at the auction with my father because he wanted me to accompany him to witness tonight's auction and bidding.

Seeing those enchanting blue eyes, I couldn't look away.

I could smell her innocence and felt the urge to spoil her.

"Richard, do you desire to buy any of the women tonight? You can use her as your 24th birthday present," my father, Mr. Wesley Henshaw, said.

"Dad…" I grumbled, gazing at the women displayed on the stage for sale. None of them captured my attention except for Angela.

I waited eagerly for her to be auctioned.

I knew she was mine the moment I laid eyes on her. She was stunning, with long blonde hair and a pretty oval face.

"Richard," my father called, pulling me back to attention and snapping me out of my trance.

"Dad, I'll choose when I see a woman who catches my attention," I mumbled, clad in a black suit and seated beside my father in the auction room.

After leaving my birthday party at the club, I arrived here to observe how the auction unfolded.

It wasn't as if I was unaware of the things my father did for fun, but none of them captured my interest.

I craved something different to define my style, uniqueness, and taste.

Once the host announced Angela, my heartbeat quickened as I spotted numerous bidders eager to claim her.

She wore the same blue dress she'd worn to my 24th birthday party, and it puzzled me: how had she ended up here?

Had Isabella put her younger sister up for sale?

Was Angela kidnapped?

There was no way Angela would come here willingly to be sold. She had been sold against her will, but who had brought her to this place?

Numerous mafia lords, young and old, all coveted Angela. Her skin glowed brighter than the rest of the women on the stage.

Her innocence proved irresistible, and many of those men yearned to claim her.

I maintained my composure as her bidding commenced at a million dollars.

She was worth more than gold.

"One million dollars!" The bidding ignited, escalating until it reached 20 million dollars.

I glanced at Angela and raised my paddle: 50 million dollars.

The hall plunged into silence. My father, Mr. Wesley Henshaw, was the most feared mafia lord in Top Hills City.

"50 million dollars going? 50 million, anyone else?" the host asked, scanning the darkened room while only the stage blazed with light.

"Sold!" the host exclaimed, and my father beamed at me proudly.

"Congratulations, son. You sealed the deal. Welcome to the dark realm. You must brand her as yours so others steer clear of touching her," my father said, sitting beside me and exhaling a cloud of smoke from his cigarette.

"Yes, I will," I replied.

After leaving the auction room to finalize Angela's payment, I was certain she didn't know who had bought her.

She had fainted from the shock, her hands and legs bound, her lips taped shut.

"Take her to my car. She is going home with me," I said, instructing my assistant.

"Richard, are you sure about this? She would normally be taken to the harem for the women to train her. She's inexperienced," my father said, standing beside me in the parking lot after we'd completed the payment for Angela's bid.

"I'll personally train her, Father. You don't need to worry about that," I said, my voice stern, without bothering to glance at my father's face.

"Richard, remember the rule: you're not to fall in love with her or develop any feelings for her. She is your property—an item to be used and discarded whenever you wish. Once you're done with her, discard her if you no longer want her," my father reminded me coldly. He and my mother had divorced because she couldn't endure his lifestyle.

Dad used women and saw them as objects to purchase, own, break, and discard at any moment.

I nodded. "Don't worry, Father. I'll have her branded and follow the rules."

"Good. Enjoy your birthday night, and I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting," my father said, striding away to his waiting black car, flanked by burly bodyguards.

I climbed into mine, where the pretty blonde lay unconscious and asleep.

She hadn't woken yet from the horror she was thrust into, and I knew she would be shocked once she awoke and saw me as her new master.

I anticipated how she would react.

"Boss, where are you headed?" my assistant, Derek Tyler, asked, standing beside my car like a driver.

"I'm going home. Start the car; let me sit in the back with her in case she wakes up at the security checkpoint," I said, tossing my car keys into Derek's hands.

He was 25 and a year older than me.

"Alright, boss," Derek replied. He slid into the driver's seat, and I settled in the back next to the pretty blonde woman, who slept soundly.

I let her feminine citrus scent envelop me.

As I sat beside her, she moaned and shifted, tensing my muscles.

As I settled in, I gently lifted her head and rested it on my thighs; she was still in shock from the ordeal.

Her wavy blonde hair felt so soft and warm in my hands as I ran my fingers through it.

"Get going," I ordered Derek, catching him glancing at the back through the rearview mirror.

Derek averted his gaze and asked, "Forgive me, boss, but isn't she Isabella's sister? How did she end up sold tonight?"

"I don't know, but she's mine now—keep your eyes off her," I warned coldly, and Derek nodded.

"Understood, boss." Once Derek started the car, he drove off toward my new house.

Coming of age and taking charge at 24 felt exhilarating. As my father's only son, he bestowed upon me money, power, and influence throughout Top Hills. I was revered like a prince, and I knew Isabella's parents were part of the mafia but of lower ranks.

I met Isabella at an event, and we hit it off because she was beautiful. We dated, but surprisingly, I hadn't slept with her even though we'd kissed. I preferred to hold back, making women beg and yearn for my touch.

However, during my 24th birthday, Isabella had brought her younger sister, Angela. I knew she had a sister because Isabella talked endlessly, even unprompted. That's why I didn't want to keep her around; I had no intention of marrying her either.

However, when my gaze fell on Angela, I saw her innocence; she looked out of place, as if she didn't belong at my party.

I wanted her; I yearned to taste her, and I couldn't tear my eyes from hers.

She whimpered against my thighs as I continued running my fingers through her hair.

However, as her blue eyes snapped open, locking onto my intense black ones, and she lifted her head from my thighs, shivering.

"You—Richard… What are you doing in this car with me? How? Was it a dream?" she asked, trembling like a leaf.