Mafia Romance Series

Chapter 3

A tall woman stood in the center, her hair was pulled tightly up into a bun, her expression indifferent.

"Get her ready for the auction today." The man muttered gruffly as he stepped back to the side of the room and watched.

"Come here." The woman said in a monotone, her painted lips formed into a straight line.

I walked over to her as she looked at me, she pulled my arms straight out to my side as she looked at me.

She observed me, her dark eyes trailing from over my face to my legs.

"Good figure" she said as she motioned for me to turn "very slim" She nodded.

"Long hair" she said as she held my dark wet hair in her hands, "blue eyes" she looked at my face, "very exotic, where did you find her?"

She asked the satanic man, as if I wasn't even there.

He glanced at me, "an alley."

"Where are you from?" She asked, her question directed towards me this time.

"New York" I lied, my voice shaky.

I held my gaze, hoping that they wouldn't see through my lie, but she didn't seem to care, she was already focusing on some clothes on the rack.

She picked out a black dress and folded it on the rack.

She snapped her fingers at me, "sit, now."

She pointed to the chair by the makeup stand and I shakily sat.

My eyes flickered to the man in the corner and I flinched at his deathly gaze that was focused on me.

"Hey" she snapped again "look at me"

I broke my gaze as she pulled out a brush and began painting my face.

"Your eyes are puffy, stop crying." She muttered.

I bit my lips as she continued to paint my face.

It was similar to when Brie was doing my makeup. She was pushy and bossy, like Brie.

Brie. A tear threatened to escape my eyes, but I swallowed down a sob.

I closed my eyes as she painted my face, she slicked eyeliner on my face, and swiped a tube of lipstick over my lips.

She then began drying my hair, leaving it curled around my waist.

Ten minutes later she snapped her fingers to signal she was done.

She handed me the dress, "change."

The man’s gaze was still on me, she looked at him and pointed to the door.

"Out."

He stood his place and gave her an icy glare.

"If you want this girl ready for the auction, you will leave. I don't think you would want to lose something worth so much."

He gave me another death look before walking out.

"Change, now" her voice was less harsh as she handed me the dress and undergarments.

I nodded to her in thanks but she ignored me.

I slipped out of the robe and shivered as I slid on the bra and thong. I pulled on the flimsy fabric, it was short, revealing, and sleeveless.

I zipped up the back and stood with my arms crossed.

"W-where am I going?" I asked slowly.

She rested a painted hand on her hip, "look, little girl, if you want to survive this, you need to shut up and take what they throw at you. Don't try to be better than it, you're not, don't try to escape, you can't, don't cry, and certainly do not beg" she looked me up and down

"don't try to be smart, brains isn't going to get you out of this. You're very beautiful, that's not a compliment. That's the truth. Your beauty is all that you have now. Bite your tongue, and be strong. It's your only hope."

I felt the tears weld in my eyes but I did not cry. I nodded as I trembled, my mind was going numb and I felt myself shaking.

"Put these on" she shoved a pair of heels at me, "and sit down, you have bruises and cuts all over your legs."

I shook as I slid the stilettos on, my fingers shook as I buckled the clamp.

I sat in the seat as she covered the bruises and cuts with makeup.

I needed to survive this. I had to do it, even if it meant losing every ounce of my humanity, I needed to do it.

I'll survive now, and cry later.

I'm smarter than this, I am not who they think I am, I have an advantage. I will get out of this alive, I will take the beatings, r**e, pain, and torture, because at least I know I am better than who they think I am.

Who knows, maybe for the first time in history, the Russian Mafia will have mercy on me because I am not what they think. I am not dirty, I will not let myself succumb to the evil of the Mafia. I am not what they think.

I am not a p********e.

CHAPTER 4

The satanic man pulled me through the halls, his hands rough against my skin.

He pulled me in front of a door and knocked.

I felt panic wash through me as I waited for whatever terror was behind the door.

My hands shook by my side as he looked at me, his eyes unmoving.

"W-what's going to happen?" I asked carefully as his grip on me loosened.

He glared at me, his eyes stone, and he said nothing.

He seemed to be contemplating whether I was even worth answering.

He finally spoke, "just do as you're told. When you go in there, stand still, and when you're asked a question, answer it. Don't lie. This is probably the last time we will ever talk." He said gruffly.

"A-Are you one of the men that took me?" I asked.

He scoffed, and gave me a look that said 'do you really think I'm going to answer that'

"You s-said it yourself. You will never speak to me again. I just need some answers." I refused to beg.

He frowned his dark brows as he looked down on me, "yes. I was."

"You do know...that I'm not a p********e, I was just walking home from m-my birthday p-party.." I was trying to get this man to feel something, anything. I was trying to control the tears that were filling my stomach and I swallowed down a cry.

His eyes went a little wide with surprise, but he said nothing. His eyes remained cold.

His eyes were dark and he finally looked away from me almost as if he couldn't look at me.

I noticed a scar on his chin, it was faint and faded, from a long time ago. Black ink covered his arms and neck. Drawings and symbols that I didn't know.

I frowned as I black inked writing along his neck, it read.

"вы ложь , и я правда"

It was old Russian for "you are a lie, and I am the truth."

I frowned at the writing, wondering what it meant, but it was hard concentrate, all I wanted to was cry.

The tattoo had to mean something to him.

Even a man as cruel as him, had things that were important to him. Maybe I could hit a 'soft spot' and he would take pity on me.

He wouldn't have permanently inked a saying onto him, if it was useless.

I needed to be smart. I couldn't cry, men like him don't feel anything for crying girls.

They're killers at heart.

"What's your name?" I asked suddenly.

It was a stupid question, I know.

Because why the f**k would it matter?

But I guess I wanted to know because I wanted to know someone. Anyone. It didn't matter that this man tried to r**e me in a filthy bathroom only an hour ago.

When I get sold off to some murderous r****t, I want to have the knowledge that I at least knew someone from this hell.

He looked at me, his eyebrows pulled together, his jaw set, and his eyes looked dangerous.

The door opened and I felt him grab me, but this time it was a little softer, a little less angry.

His callused fingers gripped me a little lighter.

Before he pushed me in, he whispered in my ear.

"Afanas. My name is Afanas."

And with that, he pushed me in.

-------------------------------------------------------

Dim lights greeted me. The room was silent, and I stared through a one-way glass that bled my reflection.

What kind of questions are they going to ask...

I frowned at my reflection, and tried to avoid looking.

I really did look like a p********e.

The crinkle of the intercom came on, and a woman's monotone voice came on.

I felt myself panicking at the thought of all the men that were probably staring at me through the glass.

"Calla Evans?" The voice called.

I nodded shakily.

"Age?"

"E-Eighteen." I felt like crying.

"Where were you born?"

Russia "N-New York." I stuttered.

Another pause.

"Approximately how many times have you had s****l i*********e?"

I felt like dying.

"I-I'm a virgin."

There was a long pause.

I stared at my small figure trembling in the mirror.

I am pathetic.

I shook as I waited for the voice to come on.

"The auction is about to take place. Stay quiet and do what you're told."

I frowned, confusion flooded through my head when suddenly blinding lights flooded the room.

I felt my eyes adjusting and suddenly the voice came back on.

"Introducing Calla Evans, or as most of you know her as 'the runner' " I frowned.

"Calla is 18 years old, approximately 5"7 and 120 pounds. Her hair is naturally black, and her eyes are a light blue. She is known to be quite 'fiery'. Calla is a virgin, her innocence makes her more valuable. With her natural exotic beauty and pristine figure, Calla will be our most expensive object."

I felt tears weld in my eyes but I said nothing.

I'm a object. I'm not even human.

"The bidding will start at 50,000$"

'Beep

The prices starting shooting up, and after each ring that signaled a bid, I felt myself losing a part of me.

My jaw trembled as the prices went past 100,00$

I felt like throwing up.

Then 200,000$

I felt a white blur passing over my vision, and it faded when the final price rang out.

"Sold, for "775,000$. Mr. Velkov, your purchase will be delivered immediately."

I let out a cry and covered my face with my hands and sunk to my knees.

Sobs escaped my lips as I realized that my soul had just been taken from me.

Velkov. I know that name. It sounded familiar.

The lights suddenly blacked out and I felt myself being grabbed and dragged out of the room.

The dim lights of the hallway greeted me and Afanas came into view.

A man stood next to him, his eyes grazing down me and they stopped at my breasts.

"vzyat' yeye k bossu." (Take her to the boss) The man next to Afanas growled.

I frowned, boss?

Oh my god. The Mafia Boss?

That's where I know Velkov from.

Afanas pulled a black cloth from his pocket, and suddenly it was over my head and I was blind.

I tried to pull free from him. I really did.

I flailed my arms and kicked but he was on me.

I tried to bite him through the cloth but he was wearing thick gloves and he kept walking.

His hands wrapped tightly around my waist and I felt the other man wrap his hands around my legs. I was off the ground.

They began quickly, walking me somewhere, and I felt myself panicking through each step they took.

The man holding my legs seemed to enjoy this.

"ona ognennaya , kak trakhayutsya . Bozhe, chto ya khotel by sdelat' , chtoby byt' v sostoyanii zagnat' etu malen'kuyu devstvennuyu kisku." (She's fiery as f**k, what I would do to be able to pound this little virgin pussy.)