I Am Not For Sale
1253 Words
ANDREA
"Have you done as I instructed?" My voice cut cold as steel through the line. Lucas held the phone as if it might bite.
"Yes, boss, but—"
"Did I just hear a ‘ma’?" My knife stabbed through the roasted chicken, cracking the golden-rimmed plate beneath it.
Silence. Heavy enough to count the light breaths of Quin.
I inhaled slowly. "Were there... complications?"
"Boss... uhm... the Dragons got to her before our men—"
"Hmmm." My fork twisted into the meat, grinding until its fat smeared the porcelain. "È così, eh?"
"Yes, boss, I'm so—"
"Don't be sorry, figlio di puttana." My voice dropped. "You of all people know what we do to those who bring me bad news."
"Y–yes, boss." I heard him swallow hard as his voice flattened.
"Perfetto." I chewed slowly, tasting nothing but rage. "May I hear some fireworks then?"
A pause.
Then—BANG! BANG! BANG! Gunshots echoed through the phone. Quin's screams.
Then silence.
"Who's there?" I spoke into the phone, savouring the juice of the chicken's flesh.
"Sanchez," a voice called out steady but broken.
"Tu sei al comando adesso, Sanchez."
"Sì, capo," he responded, then the line went flat.
I dabbed my mouth with a cloth. "Lucas."
"Yes, boss."
"Get the car ready. And tell our men to clean that warehouse. Nessuna traccia."
"Yes, boss." He moved quickly, obedient as always.
I had searched entirely for her, and now... she was so close. Yet very far away. She was my ticket out, my chiave della libertà. I couldn't lose her.
"Where to, boss?" Lucas asked as he slid behind the wheel.
"Let's go party."
He nodded, reading between the lines. The car traced through the night; the sweet scent of jasmine and lemon slapped against my nose as I took in the air. Sicily was never truly asleep.
Soon we arrived at our destination.
Devilla.
Where the deadliest of deals were made. Mouths sealed. Market of all sorts of illegal legals, and where men bet to have beautiful women beside them on their beds.
The atmosphere reeked of smoke and alcohol as music thundered loudly, filling the space.
Not quite long, we were within the hall. A mask was provided for myself and Lucas—an heritage of importance here. Anonymity was god. Your enemy could stand right next to you, and you'd never know. At least, until he slit your throat.
"$100,000!" someone barked.
I looked up. A trembling woman was tied on stage, sweat glistening against her flawless pale skin. I couldn't help but feel slight pity for her.
"Going for $100,000," the auctioneer called out.
"Is she the one?" I murmured to Lucas.
"No, boss. She comes after."
"Sold—"
"Sold at $125,000 to Don Leo!"
The name bore a certain weight. Heads dipped when the auctioneer looked at him.
"Lucas."
"Yes, boss?"
"Dig me up something on this Leo."
"Subito, signore."
"Next on our list... Lilith!" the auctioneer roared. A smirk carved his face as a fragile figure was shoved onto stage.
"Her bidding starts from $500,000," he announced as his greasy hands slid over her body as if assessing her features.
My jaw clenched. But my face remained neutral.
"Not only does she have good looks, her debts are as full as her beauty," he mocked.
Laughter erupted from the group of highly placed men in front.
"Who's that bastard?" I asked quietly.
Lucas leaned in. "Alberto. Sir Marco's right-hand man."
Alberto. Oh, how could I have forgotten about him. My lips curved into a smile that wasn't a smile. Vecchio amico... he hasn't changed his ways.
"He was the one who—" My golden-brown-haired companion spoke, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He was speaking when Alberto's voice buried his words.
"Let the bet begin," he announced.
And then they started.
"$600,000," an old Italian mob with a grey hair and golden teeth spoke.
"$1,000,000," I watched as the bars raised and after a while no one else was placing a bet.
"$2,500,000 to Mr Leo." Alberto smirked. "Going..."
"Double the last amount bid on her. Let's get going."
"Yes, boss."
"$5,000,000," Lucas announced, and gasps filled the atmosphere.
"Who could that be?"
"No one haggles with Mr Leo on ladies he likes." The men went wild with guesses.
The certain Mr Leo turned to our side, throwing Lucas a disdainful look.
"Lilith sold at $5,000,000," Alberto announced rather happily.
...
The drive back to my mansion was one filled with joy... I had finally gotten her.
"Welcome, Sir Andrea," Mama Rosa greeted, taking my suit from me.
I spared her a smile, walking into my mansion hall.
Everyone within my vicinity was well stationed. It was an offense for me to raise my voice to get things done.
I picked up a cigarette from the golden plate, and in no time the lady in charge of that lit it up.
Just then Lucas brought both Alberto and the lady out of the car. Their faces covered.
The lady kicked against Lucas' grip; she was so fragile I feared she would crack against her own kicks... How was she a stripper again?
"Let me go," she continued to yell against the polythene bag on her face.
Finally, he opened her face.
Her eyes darted around her surroundings before she settled her gaze on me. She stared at me for a while, the seconds slowly clocking a minute.
Her eyes seemed to bore into my skin, leaving me feeling exposed and slightly self-conscious. I shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through my hair as I tried to shake off the sensation.
"I think you've been staring at me for a bit too long," I said, my tone light but with an undercurrent of awareness.
Then, like one possessed, she switched.
"You all are perverts, all of you are monsters, and you will burn in hell," she said, staring me right in the eyes.
"You should be the boss around here? Huh?" she said, walking to my side. My men were getting ready, but I stopped them. It had been a while since I had been entertained like this.
"You think you can just go around buying anyone, right?" she hissed. "News flash—I'm not for sale!"
"I am not a property, and I'll never be owned."
"Emilia." I savored her name like a forbidden fruit. "Do yourself a favor by saving your strength for tonight."
Her brows arched. "Tonight?"
"Lucas." I called, and he handed her a file.
"Go through it," he ordered.
She flipped the pages, her face hard, her fingers trembling. Then she ripped the file to shreds.
My nails dug into my skin, but my face was masked with a smile. She was pushing me.
"That's your gateway to freedom."
"Never!" she spat, moving backwards. "I’d rather sell myself to the devil than marry you."
"Then it might interest you to know that I am the devil." My voice resounded. "And this contract marriage? Is what had assured you the grace of seeing another sunrise."
I stood up, walking closer. And she moving away like I was some disgusting piece of s**t. I leaned in, my hands holding in place her arms, my lips brushing her ear.
"Sign. Be my wife for a year. Then you walk free, without debts."
I straightened. "Or perhaps you'd like to see my brother first?"
"Your brother?" she asked, stunned.
"Yes, my brother. And trust me—he doesn't play nice."
- Writer
