Mag-log inElena Rossi’s life shatters when her father’s gambling debt attracts the attention of the mafia. With no money to repay them, Elena is taken to a secret auction where desperate women are sold to powerful men. Just when she thinks her fate couldn’t get worse, the most feared mafia boss in the city makes the highest bid. Dante Moretti. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable. Now Elena belongs to him. But the deeper she falls into his dangerous world, the more secrets she uncovers. Because Dante didn’t buy her out of desire. He bought her because she reminds him of the one woman who betrayed him. As enemies close in and a mafia war begins, Elena realizes something terrifying. The ruthless man who owns her body might soon own her heart. And in Dante Moretti’s world… Love can be just as deadly as betrayal.
view moreElena POV
The rain slammed against the thin roof of our little house, a steady drumbeat that matched the panic coiling in my chest. I pressed my palms against the cold window, trying to convince myself it was just the storm outside. But deep down, I already knew this was bigger than the weather. The feeling had been growing for weeks, and tonight it was suffocating. "Elena… we have a problem." My father's voice came from behind me, quiet and shaky. I turned around slowly. He was standing in the doorway holding a crumpled envelope, his hands trembling so badly the paper shook with them. His face looked pale under the yellow light of the old lamp. He wasn’t even trying to hide it this time. My stomach dropped before he said another word. “What’s going on?” I asked. My voice came out smaller than I wanted. He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me with those sad, guilty eyes. The kind of look that made my chest tighten. “We’ve got a problem, kiddo.” I swallowed hard. “What kind of problem?” He rubbed a hand over his face, the stubble scratching loud in the quiet room. “The debt. I… I thought I could handle it. Thought I had more time. But they’re done waiting.” My heart started beating faster. I already knew what he was talking about. Gambling. Again. After everything he promised when Mom died. After all the nights I sat with him while he cried and swore he’d never touch another card or bet. “How much?” I whispered. He looked away. “A lot. More than we’ve got. Way more.” Before I could say anything else, a loud bang hit the front door. Hard. The whole house seemed to shake with it. "Rossi! Open up!" Dad jumped like someone had shot at him. The envelope fell out of his hands and papers scattered across the floor. I could see red stamps on them from where I stood. Late notices. Warnings. Threats. “Dad…” My voice cracked. Another bang. Even harder this time. The door rattled like it was about to break. “I’m coming!” My father called out, but his voice sounded weak. Scared. He looked at me with this broken expression I’ll never forget. “Stay back, Elena. Please.” But I couldn’t. I followed him as he walked to the door, my bare feet cold on the wooden floor. My hands were shaking. When he opened the door, cold wind and rain rushed inside, and three big men stepped in without waiting to be invited. They filled up our tiny living room instantly. Big coats dripping water everywhere, hard faces, no smiles. The tallest one stepped forward first. He didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at my dad was enough. “You’re late again, Rossi.” My father put his hands up a little. “Please… just give me a few more weeks. I’ve got something lined up, I swear—” The man cut him off with a short laugh. “You’ve been saying that for months. The boss is finished with your excuses.” His eyes moved past my dad and landed straight on me. He looked me up and down slow, like he was checking out a piece of furniture. I took a step back until my back hit the wall. “She’s pretty. Young. Looks healthy.” “No,” I said, my voice shaking. “Dad, tell them no.” But my dad just stood there, shoulders slumped, like all the fight had already gone out of him. “You said there was another way,” he whispered. “You told me there was another way to settle this.” The tallest man nodded once. “There is. We’ll take the girl.” The words hit me like a punch to the chest. For a second I couldn’t even breathe. “No!” I shouted. “You can’t just take me! This is crazy!” I tried to run to the kitchen, but two of the men moved fast. One grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back. The other caught me around the waist when I tried to kick him. “Dad! Help me!” I screamed. My father lunged forward, but the third man shoved him hard against the wall. Dad hit it with a sick thud and slid down, tears already running down his face. “Elena… I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry. I never wanted this. I love you, baby. Please forgive me…” I was fighting like hell, kicking and twisting and screaming. My elbow connected with one of the men’s ribs and he grunted, but it didn’t loosen his grip. They were too strong. Too used to this. “Stop struggling,” one of them growled in my ear. “It’s done.” Tears were pouring down my face now. I kept looking at my dad on the floor, reaching out like he could somehow stop this. But he couldn’t. We both knew it. “Dad! Don’t let them take me! Please!” He was crying harder now, still on the floor. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” They guided me toward the door. My father tried to speak, tried to fight, but the men silenced him with a look. . The rain poured harder as we stepped outside. The night was cold, the wind biting, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the terror and the humiliation of being dragged from my home like I was nothing more than a possession. My life had changed in a single moment, and there was no turning back. My father's eyes lingered on me, full of helplessness. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. I wanted to run to him, to scream that I would be okay, but I knew deep down that nothing could make this okay. The men led me away from the house, their steps steady, calm, professional. I stumbled once, and a hand gripped my arm. I flinched, but they didn't release me. The message was clear: resistance was useless. The moment I realized it, I felt a hollow emptiness settle in my chest. My life was no longer my own. I had no control. No one to protect me. How could he do this to me? How could my own father gamble away my life like this? Memories flooded through the panic. Mom’s gentle smile and the way she fought cancer with everything she had until the end. She died when I was fourteen, slow and painful. After that, Dad completely fell apart. The gambling became worse and worse. He kept saying one big win would fix everything. I believed him. I covered for him. I worked extra shifts until my feet ached and my eyes burned. I stayed up dreaming of a normal future, of finally being able to breathe. I had sacrificed so much for him. And this was how he repaid me. Tears mixed with the rain on my face as the men pulled me further into the darkness. I looked back one last time at our little house, the only home I had ever known. It was already fading. And just like that, my fate was sealed. I would not be returning home tonight. I would not see my father again. Perhaps… ever.Dante POV Elena told me everything Isabella had said at the banquet. I spent the night turning her words over instead of sleeping, replaying every conversation, every look, every move I'd dismissed for the wrong reason. By morning, I knew where I'd gone wrong. I had spent weeks hunting a woman I thought wanted me back. She didn't. Maybe she never had. The woman who'd walked into that banquet wasn't fighting for a marriage or a man. She was campaigning for an empire she'd already decided belonged to her. "She's not trying to hurt me," I said, planting both hands on the map spread across the war room table. My untouched coffee had long since gone cold beside it. "She's trying to replace me. There's a difference, and I've been fighting the wrong war." Luca studied the routes marked in red before lifting his eyes to mine. "So what changes?" "Everything." I tapped the first circle on the map, then another. "These routes. These warehouses. Every man she's convinced the future belon
Elena POV The banquet hall smelled like money trying to disguise itself as tradition, candle wax and old wine and too many roses crammed into too few vases. I stood beside Dante near the entrance, my hand resting lightly on his arm. Within seconds, I felt the weight of the room settle on us. "They're staring," I murmured. Dante didn't even glance around. "They're always staring," he said. "Tonight, they just have more reasons to." Ricci reached us first. His smile was polite enough, but his eyes swept over me with open appraisal, lingering on my dress, my posture, my face, as though he were assessing an investment. "Dante," he said smoothly. "And the lovely Elena. I didn't realize the Board banquet had become the place for personal displays." "Elena isn't a display," Dante replied evenly. "Watch how you speak about her." For the briefest moment, Ricci's smile tightened. Then he inclined his head. "My mistake." He moved on without another word. I let out a slow
Dante POV The financial report was still running when Ricci cut in. "Skip ahead," he said, waving a hand at the man reading numbers off a tablet at the end of the table. "We didn't come here for shipping manifests. We came here to talk about Isabella." The aide looked at me. I nodded once, and he sat down without another word. "Isabella isn't Board business," I said. "She's mine to deal with." "Everything that threatens this family is Board business." Cavallo said it without looking up from the ledger in front of him, tracing a column of numbers with one finger like he was double-checking arithmetic instead of picking a fight. "Territory revenue down across three districts this quarter. That's Board business. A dead lieutenant who talked before he died. Also Board business." "James talked because he was already dying," I shot back. "That's not a security failure, that's a man choosing his last words." "Semantics," Vincenzo said, not bothering to look up from his phone. "The poi
Isabella POV The feed from the warehouse camera was grainy, but I didn't need clarity to know how it would end. I watched Dante's men clear the building room by room, weapons raised at nothing, and I let myself enjoy exactly thirty seconds of it before I closed the laptop. James's message was still drying when they found it. Good. I wanted it fresh enough that Dante would know I'd been standing in that room hours before he was. "You could have let him live," Konstantin said from the doorway. He always waited a second longer than necessary before entering, like he needed permission he'd never actually ask for. "I could have." I poured two glasses of wine and handed him one without looking up. "He was useful." Konstantin muttered. "He was expendable." I sat down across from him, crossing one leg over the other. "There's a difference, and I would have thought you'd know it by now. James served his purpose the moment Dante's men started digging through that warehouse instead of di
I couldn't stop shaking for hours after the attack. Even after the mansion had returned to that fake, heavy calmness, my body just refused to settle. It wasn't just basic fear anymore, it was something deeper, something that felt permanent. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at my hands. T
I wandered through the hallways, my heels clicking softly against the marble floors, until I found myself outside the training room.Inside, Luca was moving with controlled precision, his fists pounding a punching bag with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. The sound reverberated through the room,
I made my way toward the study where Luca usually worked. I needed answers, or at least a thread I could follow. I had confronted Dante, and while he’d admitted to knowing about the woman in the photo, he hadn’t given me anything concrete. Not a name. Not a reason. Just… hints, shadows of memories
The mansion felt suffocating. Even in the daylight, the shadows clung to the corners of the hallways like silent watchers. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. The file. The photograph. The woman who looked so much like me. And Dante… standing there, his eyes dark and unreadable, as if he could see throu
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