Argh
Come on!
I cracked my eyes open, blinking profusely trying to adjust my blurry eyesight. The first thing I registered were the thick metal bars that surrounded me by every corner. Although it seemed like a long time had passed, I was aware it had only been a couple of hours due to the pulsing pain in my head.
What happened?
My whole body erupted in fear and panic. I couldn't remember how I got here. The last thing I remembered was begging our boss in his office…then people came in there…and then…someone injecting me.
“...and sold to Mr. Sanchez for $3 million” I heard someone say from the other side of the thick curtain right in front of me.
What's this?
An auction?
The was drawn and was blinded by the harsh glare of the spotlight pointed directly at me. I bit down the scream that was about to come out of me, I felt the terror swimming in my bloodstream.
I could hardly see anything except from a few men sitting in the front line of seats. Their faces were shadowed in the darkness, all I could hear were their whispers and chuckles. My hands were shaking uncontrollably and made their way to my neck, the exact spot I was injected. I then realized what was happening.
Please let this not be what I think it is.
I was on a stage that I knew. I was a commodity, an item to be sold to the highest bidder.
My panic and thoughts were cut off when a sharp and authoritative voice echoed through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are down to the last flavor of the night. We've got a special treat for you tonight, a young lady with a…history. And with that, the bidding begins”.
Panic washed over me, my voice caught in my throat, my eyes were wide and a choked sob escaped my lips. I scrambled back against the cage bars, my was a trembling mess.
“We've been told she's quite the…entertainer. She can put on a show, don't you think?” The auctioneer’s voice dripped with a sickly sweetness while his gaze was like a viper’s, cold and drained.
“$200,000”
With that the bidding started. I desperately scanned the room looking for an escape but all I saw was their expressions, a mixture of amusement and lust.
The bidding went on for a while, the amount going higher by each bidder. The amount echoed in my head, was I worth that much?
Their gazes which were on me felt like a physical burden tormenting me. A tear slipped out my eye.
Suddenly, a voice boomed out, a deep, commanding voice, “$20 million”
What?
20 million dollars
The room was silent, the bidders letting out frustrated sighs. The auctioneer's with a creepy smile yelled, “Sold! To Mr. Castelli”
My eyes lost focus as it became blurry with tears. I was sold…I was now apparently his possession.
The spotlight was removed from me and I was left with a blurry vision of the audience. I noticed a man standing up from his seat before approaching the stage. He moved with grace, his aura exuding an icy control that left me breathless. His gaze fell upon me, his piercing eyes oddly familiar.
With a small wave of his hand, two men rushed to the cage which made me scramble in fear before they unlocked it.
I felt like an animal at an exhibition.
They brought me out of the cage, despite my weak struggles. I was dropped in front of him like a sack of hay which resulted in him giving them a cold glare. They turned to leave urgently after bowing at him.
“Let's go, doll. I believe we have much to discuss” he said.
We did?
He just turned and began to move in the direction of the entrance without waiting for an answer. A burly man appeared beside me and nudged me to stand up and move.
My feet felt numb as I stood up. I started walking in the same direction, each step made my heart beat faster.
We got outside and I was dumbfounded with the number of cars that were lined up in a single line in front of me.
My eyes searched for him but he must have entered one of the cars already. I turned to look at the guy that was still behind me. He pointed at the car directly before me…my mouth slightly dropped open in disbelief.
It was a Cadillac Escalade, for sure.
Cars were my forte, I couldn't help knowing one or two things about them.
I bit my lips as I entered into the car carefully, ensuring I didn't leave a scratch. He wasn't here. I was now back to wondering what was actually going on…what was I?
A sex slave
A maid…I don't think a maid would be bought for 20 million dollars
Would I be sold again?
The fear that had dissipated began to resurface. I was so lost in thoughts that I was foolish enough to not take note of any landmark.
My door was opened and the same guard appeared and nudged his head forward.
Was he mute?
I gripped onto my sleeve as I made my way into the massive mansion before me. Inside was way much grand. I couldn't stop myself from awning.
I was led to an office on the 2nd floor, the staircase alone made me feel small. I got to the office, the door was so dominating, I could only wonder who was on the other side of it. The person would be the judge of my future.
My trembling hands rose and knocked, then I silently counted to 3 before cracking the door open.
I gulped hard before fully entering and it was him…Mr Castelli…the man who bought me.
The office had a lot of space and was well-lit. Bookshelves lined the walls, containing thick volumes, and a large, commanding desk in the middle of the space was surrounded by expensive-looking pens and carefully organized documents.
“Lena, you came!” He said as if he was expecting otherwise. He was relaxed behind his desk with a laptop open in front of….
Wait! How did he know my name?
His expression was calm, his jaw set in a solid line, yet his eyes revealed a mocking delight.
“Sit!”
He gestured toward one of the soft velvet chairs positioned in front of his desk. His voice was cool at the same time indifferent. I sat down, my body was stiff and my hands were clasped tightly on my laps.
“Lena Lynx Grey” he said as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed upon me which made me squirm. “Twenty three years old. You live with your parents in a cramped house in the poorer part of town. You're a barista in the day time and a stripper in night, and you're a skilled performer. You're also a pretty good liar. You've been stealing from your parents for months, hiding it from them. You believe you know more than anyone else.
His calm expression was in sharp contrast to the harshness of his words. They were cold, calculated accusations, each one a blow worse than that of my parents. He was right to some extent, I did take money from my parents because technically it was my money but I guess he didn't know that.
“How did you…How do you know all this?" I spoke, my voice trembling so much that I could barely hear my own words.
The edge of his mouth curled slightly with a trace of humor as he reclined. "Let us just say I have got my ways. Don't you want to know…how I know that you were on the run…”
He paused, his eyes locked onto mine. I experienced chills running down my spine.
The days blurred.I don’t know how many had passed since the night in the library — since I almost let him kiss me.Since I almost let myself want it.But I hadn’t stopped thinking about it.Not once.I watched him when I shouldn’t.At dinner, when his hands curled around his glass. When he stood with Marcello outside and the wind pulled at his sleeves. When he leaned against the edge of a table, unreadable and distant, eyes scanning a report like he didn’t know I was right there.But he always knew.He always knew.And yet, he hadn’t touched me since.Hadn’t even come close.And that, somehow, hurt more.I started pulling away more. Not physically…emotionally. Short replies. Avoiding eye contact. Ducking out of rooms early.I didn’t know what I was afraid of more — giving in, or never being wanted again.“Lena?” she says, snapping me back. I blink, the knife still in my hand, an apple half-peeled. “You’re miles away, honey. What’s got you so lost?”“Nothing,” I mumble, my cheeks heat
The only sound was the clink of silverware against porcelain and the occasional shift of a chair.I was halfway through a piece of toast I didn’t want when I felt his gaze again.Leo sat across the table, sipping his black coffee like it didn’t taste like burnt ash. His eyes were on the tablet in front of him, but I wasn’t fooled.He hadn’t said a word to me.That made two of us.“You’re quieter than usual,” he finally said.“I didn’t realize silence came in levels.”He looked up at that, sharply. “Yours does.”I took another bite, chewing slowly. “Maybe you just got used to the sound of me defending myself.”“I got used to the sound of you fighting.”My eyes flicked to his. “And now that I’m not?”“You’re retreating. There’s a difference.”I didn’t answer.Because he wasn’t wrong.I didn't even finish up my breakfast before leaving, going outside trying to breathe.What was he doing to me?I was lost in thoughts when I ran into David, he was trimming the roses. He was one of the youn
Days passed.I stopped keeping count.Nothing loud had happened since he took me to that house. No punishments. No arguments. No forced apologies.The moment came in the garden.I was curled on the cushioned bench under the willow tree, half-reading a book I didn’t care about, trying to ignore the way my skin still tingled when I thought about him too long.Then I heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel.I didn’t look up.“You’ve been acting usual.”Straight to the point. No softness. No patience.“Have I?” I flipped the page. “Didn’t notice.”His shadow blocked the light. “Don’t play games.”I sighed and closed the book. “I’m not.”He crouched in front of me — not sitting, not relaxing. Just there. In my space.Too close.My body tensed.“Look at me,” he said.I didn’t.His hand came to rest on the bench beside my thigh, palm heavy against the cushion. “Lena.”“What?” I whispered.“What happened to you after that visit?”I clenched my jaw. “Nothing.”“Liar.”I force myself to mee
I followed him back to the car, still brushing stray flour from my sleeves, my mind racing. Why had he brought me here? What deal had he just sealed? The questions burned, but his silence told me I wouldn’t get answers—not yet.I tried to speak. Then stopped.His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.After twenty minutes of silence, I finally said, “You didn’t bring me there just for a deal.”He said nothing.“Then why?”Still nothing.We drove longer than expected. Too long. Too far.Then I saw it.My heart dropped.“Leo…”He parked near the curb. My old street. My old house.My blood ran cold.I stared at the chipped paint, the rotting fence. I could already hear the yelling. Feel the belt.I couldn’t move.“Come,” Leo said, already opening his door.“Why are we here?”“Closure.”My stomach twisted.The door was unlocked. Inside, the air smelled like beer, mildew, and memories I didn’t want.Every room was messier than I remembered. Dirtier. Smaller.The smell. The stains on th
You’re not planning another runaway stunt, are you?”I shook my head. “No. I’m done running.”“I think I preferred you when you glared more,” Marcello said, nudging a glass across the table toward me. “At least then you looked alive.”I blinked and glanced up. “What?”“Exactly.”I shook my head. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”“Was it the rain?” he teased. “Or your charming husband whispering sweet nothings like ‘you’re mine’ in the dark?”I let out a soft scoff, leaning back into the couch. “Try ‘you’re not free’ and ‘stop pretending you hate it.’ Super romantic.”Marcello raised a brow, his teasing tone fading just a little. “He actually said that?”I nodded. “He meant it, too.”His jaw tensed.“Sounds like him,” he muttered. Then added under his breath, “Always thinks everyone wants him.”I stared at him.“He’s different sometimes. Softer. Like he’s… trying.”Marcello raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading. “Trying? Leo doesn’t try, Lena. He calculates. If he’s soft with you, it’s becau
I woke to grey skies and the faint echo of thunder in the distance.The rain hadn't stopped. It just fell slower now, like the world was exhaling after a tantrum. But my chest still felt tight — too tight.Leo’s words still clung to me, sharp and haunting: “I’d feel better if I knew what broke you.” His voice had been a blade, not cruel but searching, cutting too close to the scars I’d buried deep.He didn’t just want answers—he wanted to see me, the real me, and that scared me more than any locked door or loaded gun.“I want to see how long it takes before you stop pretending you hate being mine.” I should’ve screamed. Should’ve said never.But I just stood there like an idiot. Frozen, confused and curious.I stayed in bed long after sunrise, staring at the ceiling, trying not to wonder where Leo had gone after our conversation. Or when he’d return. Or what mood he’d be in when he did.I finally peeled myself from the bed and moved to the window. My hair was quite matted from yesterd