All Chapters of The Mafia's Priced Possession: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

•ISABELLA• When we arrived at the alley behind the club, I stepped out of Sarah’s car and slipped into the short black dress Antonio had bought me on our shopping trip. I changed into the stilettos I’d brought along, loosened my hair, and let it fall over my shoulders. Using the small mirror in my bag, I reapplied my lipstick and adjusted the face mask Sarah and I had gotten from a bouncer she knew. I felt a quiet thrill as I fixed the mask in place. “Are you sure he won’t see you, Bella? This is risky,” Sarah said, already pulling on her club clothes. “Relax. He won’t even smell me,” I replied with a smile as I finished adjusting the mask. “If he sees you, I wasn’t involved, okay?” “Sarah,” I said, resting a hand on my waist and chuckling. "You should trust me. This is the only way I will escape from Antonio. In the morning, I will go to my cousin's house. No one will look for me there." “Are you sure? I still need this job, and I don’t want to die yet,” she muttered as sh

•ISABELLA• I felt sick the moment I realized Antonio was the same man I had been happily dancing and talking to earlier, the same stranger I had shared a heated moment with in the restroom. He did things to me that still wouldn't leave my mind. I was so sure I would dream of the way he moved inside me, leaving me wanting more. The truth hit me all at once, leaving me dizzy and confused. It was a lot to take in. I couldn’t believe it. “Antonio… how?” was all I said, my voice barely steady. I was so shocked that part of me hoped I would wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. It couldn’t be real. I couldn’t have slept with my mortal enemy, the one man I had sworn would never get close to me. Yet there he was. “I’m surprised you didn't recognize my voice,” he said calmly, holding out his hand. “Come on, angel. Let’s go home.” I stared at him, already knowing that I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t go home with him, and I certainly couldn’t sleep under the same roof as

•TOM• After knocking off work, I went straight to the Nightingale Club, hoping that somehow I would see her there. The thought of Isabella had followed me relentlessly over the past few days, clinging to my mind no matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else. Every quiet moment brought her face back to me, her smile, her voice, the way she looked at me when she thought I was the only person in the room. I couldn't shake off the feeling that if I didn’t see her soon, something terrible would happen. I had convinced myself that if I found her at the club and talked her out of whatever agreement she had made with Antonio, I would run away with her without a second thought. We would leave the city, leave the danger behind, and start over somewhere far from his reach. Facing Antonio head-on was never an option. He had more power than I did, more money, more influence, and connections that could destroy a man quietly and efficiently. He knew people who could make my life

•ISABELLA• When Antonio and I returned from seeing my father, the dinner table was already set and waiting for us. He insisted we eat before he left for the club, even though the atmosphere between us was tense and suffocating. The room was painfully quiet, broken only by the soft clink of our forks against our plates. My mind kept drifting back to Tom and everything he had said to me earlier. He had offered to help me escape from Antonio, but I still did not know whether I could trust him or if his intentions were truly pure. "Do you like the food?" Antonio asked suddenly, clearly trying to fill the silence. "It’s good," I replied. "It’s always good." He studied me for a moment before asking. "Tom… what did he want?" I lifted my gaze to meet his across the table, then slowly raised my glass of wine and took a sip before answering. "He was my boyfriend." "Was," Antonio repeated pointedly. "Exactly. So tell me, what did he want?" I swallowed hard and placed my glass back d

•ISABELLA• Dante seemed to embody everything I knew I should stay away from. His demeanor reminded me far too much of Antonio’s, cold, commanding, and dangerous. He looked completely different from the men who usually hit on me. He had polished charm replaced with something darker that I couldn’t quite define. He wore black trousers and a fitted black shirt, and a faint scar marked his left cheek. When I noticed the motorcycle keys he had placed on the table, it hit me that he had ridden here, confirming my first impression that he was the kind of man who lived on the edge. “Tell me how a woman as beautiful as you isn’t in a relationship with a man who can take care of you properly,” he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious. I pushed away my intrusive thoughts and let out a soft chuckle. Picking up my glass of wine, I met his gaze. “I choose my men the same way I choose my clothes,” I replied with a wink before taking a sip. “Then tell me more about yourself, Miss…?” “Isabe