Sold To The Mafia King

The underground auction house reeked of desperation and expensive cologne. Serena's wrists burned from the zip ties cutting into her skin as Marcus dragged her down the concrete steps. The man she'd called husband for three years wore a five-thousand-dollar suit and the expression of someone taking out garbage."Marcus, please," she whispered, stumbling in the heels he'd forced her to wear. "We can work this out. I can get a loan—""Shut up." His grip tightened on her arm. "You think Daddy's trust fund can cover fifty million? You think anyone gives a damn about your little interior design business?"The basement opened into a surprisingly elegant space. Red velvet curtains hung from the walls, and crystal chandeliers cast twisted shadows across the crowd. Men in expensive suits lounged in leather chairs, drinks in hand, like they were at a poker game instead of... whatever this was."Gentlemen," a voice called from the platform. The auctioneer wore a red bow tie and smiled like a sha

Serena couldn't sleep.The master bedroom was bigger than her entire college apartment, with a king-sized bed that could fit a small army. She'd tried sleeping in the sitting area, but the leather chair was harder than it looked. Now she paced the marble floors in the silk pajamas someone had left on the bed—pajamas that fit perfectly and were definitely not hers.A soft knock interrupted her thoughts."Come in," she called, then immediately regretted it.Dante stepped through the doorway carrying a silver tray. He'd removed his jacket and tie, leaving him in just his black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The mask was still in place, but somehow he looked more dangerous in the dim lighting."You should be sleeping.""Hard to sleep when your entire life has been turned upside down." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how little the silk covered. "What's on the tray?""Tea. You looked like you needed it." He set the tray on the side table and poured from an e

The reception ended in a blur of congratulations and champagne toasts, but Serena barely registered any of it. That voice echoed in her head, familiar and impossible.When the last guest left, she followed Dante to the master bedroom in silence. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he loosened his tie and poured himself a drink from the bar cart."Enjoying your wedding night, Mrs. Valentino?" he asked without turning around."Take it off.""The tie? I was getting to that.""The mask." Her voice was stronger than she felt. "Take off the mask."His hands stilled on the crystal decanter. "Serena—""Now. I want to see your face.""Some things are better left hidden.""Not this." She moved closer, her silk train whispering across the marble. "I know that voice."He turned slowly, setting down his glass. Even across the room, she could feel the tension radiating from him."Do you?""Say my name again.""Serena.""No." Her voice cracked. "Say it the way you used to. In the library. In your

"I want to show you something," Dante said the next morning, leading her to a room she hadn't seen before.The door opened onto what could only be described as a war room. Multiple screens covered one wall, showing feeds from across the city. Maps, charts, and photographs covered another. At the center sat a massive conference table surrounded by leather chairs."Welcome to the nerve center of my empire."Serena stepped inside, overwhelmed by the scope of it all. "This is incredible.""This is power." He moved to the main screen, touching a panel that lit up different sections of the city. "Hotels, restaurants, construction companies, shipping." Each area glowed as he spoke. "All legitimate, all profitable, all mine.""How many people work for you?""Directly? About three thousand. Indirectly?" He shrugged. "Half the city depends on Valentino enterprises in some way."She stared at the screens showing bustling restaurants, busy construction sites, elegant hotels. "You built all this i

"Again."Serena wiped sweat from her forehead and faced the punching bag. At four months pregnant, her growing belly made some movements awkward, but Dante insisted she learn to defend herself."I can't hit any harder," she panted."You're not hitting with your whole body." Dante moved behind her, his chest pressing against her back as his hands guided hers into position. "Feel the power in your core, let it flow through your arms."The private gym in the penthouse was state-of-the-art, but she barely noticed the equipment. All her attention was focused on the way his body felt against hers, the heat of his hands on her skin."Like this?" She threw another punch, this one connecting with satisfying force."Better." His lips brushed her ear. "Again."For the next hour, he taught her combinations, footwork, how to use an opponent's size against them. Every lesson involved his hands on her body, adjusting her stance, showing her where to strike."Why is this so important?" she asked duri