Owned By The Mafia King

The Chains Of Debt

Chapter Two: The Chains of Debt

Evelyn sat stiffly in the backseat of the sleek black car, her fingers gripping the leather seat so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, a distorted version of reality—just like her life had become.

Her father had done the unthinkable. He had gambled away his last shred of dignity, and in return, he had sold her to Viktor Romano. As collateral. Like she was some thing, not a person.

The realization burned through her veins like poison.

The driver remained silent, his expression unreadable as he maneuvered through the streets. Evelyn’s heart pounded, every breath tight in her chest. She needed a plan. There had to be a way out of this.

Running wasn’t an option. Men like Viktor didn’t let their possessions slip through their fingers. He had claimed her, and men like him didn’t make empty threats.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind.

“The Romano family doesn’t forgive debt.”

And now, neither did she.

Her father had abandoned her to the mercy of a mafia king, and for that, she would never forgive him.

The car pulled into the driveway of her apartment complex. It was a modest place—far from the luxury Viktor lived in—but it was hers. Or at least, it had been.

As the car came to a stop, Evelyn exhaled sharply, reaching for the door handle.

The driver’s voice stopped her. “Mr. Romano expects you at the estate tomorrow. Eight sharp.”

She turned to face him. “What happens if I don’t show up?”

The man didn’t flinch. “Then someone will come for you.”

A chill ran down her spine.

Of course.

She pushed the door open and stepped out, her legs shaky but her pride intact. She wouldn’t let them see her crumble.

Not yet.

⸻

The Devil’s Domain

Morning came far too quickly.

Evelyn stood at the grand iron gates of Viktor’s estate, her stomach twisting into knots.

It was breathtaking. And terrifying.

The Romano mansion was nothing short of an empire, towering over the lush green hills on the outskirts of the city. It was built like a fortress—tall, impenetrable, and cold. Just like the man who owned it.

She had barely rung the doorbell when it swung open. A butler, dressed in black, gestured for her to enter without a word.

Evelyn squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

The interior was no less intimidating. Expensive marble floors, high ceilings, and chandeliers that dripped with excess. This wasn’t just a home; it was a statement.

A statement of power.

She was led through a maze of hallways before finally being ushered into what looked like a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound books she doubted Viktor had ever touched. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the desk, next to an ashtray with a single smoldering cigar.

And then there he was.

Viktor sat behind the desk, sleeves rolled up, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. His dark eyes lifted lazily from the paper he was signing, locking onto hers with unsettling ease.

He didn’t speak immediately. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to make the air heavy.

Evelyn refused to look away.

“Right on time,” Viktor murmured, leaning back in his chair. “I like that.”

“I’m not here to impress you,” she snapped.

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Oh, I think you already have.”

She ignored the heat in his gaze. “Tell me exactly what this deal entails.”

Viktor exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Your father owed me five million dollars. He had no way to pay it back, so he gave me you.”

Her stomach churned. “And what exactly does that mean? Am I supposed to work for you? Pay it off? Or am I just… a prize you’ve claimed?”

His eyes darkened at her words.

“You’re not a prize, Evelyn. You’re a debt.”

His voice was quiet, but it carried an unmistakable finality.

She clenched her fists. “And how long am I supposed to be your… your property?”

Viktor stood, circling the desk slowly. “Your father signed away indefinite terms. That means I own you until I decide otherwise.”

Evelyn’s breath hitched as he stopped just inches from her, his presence overwhelming.

“You can fight it all you want,” he said, his voice low, almost taunting. “But at the end of the day, you belong to me now.”

Something inside her snapped.

“I belong to no one,” she hissed, meeting his gaze with fire of her own.

Viktor’s expression flickered with something—something dark and intrigued.

“Good,” he murmured. “I like a woman with spirit.”

Before she could react, he leaned down, whispering against her ear.

“But spirit won’t change your fate, bellezza.”

His breath was warm against her skin, sending an unwilling shiver through her.

She hated that her body reacted to him.

He straightened, watching her with amusement. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be staying here.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Viktor said, voice firm. “This is your new home now.”

She shook her head. “No. No way. I have a life. A job—”

“You had a life,” he corrected smoothly. “Now you have me.”

Evelyn’s heart pounded. She had underestimated him. He wasn’t just claiming ownership. He was removing every escape route she had.

“You can’t do this,” she whispered.

Viktor’s smirk deepened. “I already did.”

And just like that, her world collapsed all over again.

⸻

A Bird in a Cage

Evelyn barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, her mind spiraled—searching for a way out, a loophole, anything that could free her from Viktor’s grasp. But no matter how she twisted the situation, the truth remained the same.

She was trapped.

When the morning sun streamed through the large windows, she forced herself out of bed, determined to maintain control of at least one thing—herself. She wasn’t going to break, not for Viktor, not for anyone.

A knock sounded at her door.

Evelyn ignored it, but the door swung open anyway.

A woman, tall and elegant, stepped inside. She wore a crisp black dress and held a folded pile of clothes in her hands. Her features were sharp, but there was no malice in her gaze.

“I’m Alessia,” the woman said. “Mr. Romano has instructed me to help you settle in. He expects you at breakfast in twenty minutes.”

Evelyn crossed her arms. “I’m not his pet. I don’t need help settling in.”

Alessia didn’t react. “You should get dressed.” She placed the clothes on the bed—a soft beige blouse, tailored black pants, and designer shoes that probably cost more than Evelyn’s entire wardrobe.

She glared at them. “I have my own clothes.”

Alessia’s lips twitched. “Not anymore.”

Evelyn clenched her jaw. She wanted to argue, but what was the point? She was in his house, under his rules. At least for now.

But she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

⸻

Breakfast with the Devil

Viktor sat at the long dining table, reading the newspaper as if everything was normal. As if he hadn’t just turned her life upside down.

Evelyn marched in, arms crossed. “If you think I’m going to play house, you’re delusional.”

Viktor didn’t even look up. “Sit.”

She remained standing. “I want to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” His voice was calm, but there was an underlying authority that made her skin prickle. “Now, sit down.”

She didn’t move.

Viktor finally lowered the newspaper, his gaze locking onto hers. There was amusement in his expression, but also something much darker. “Defiance is adorable, but it won’t change reality.”

“Maybe not,” she shot back, “but it makes me feel better.”

A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. “Eat, Evelyn.”

Her stomach growled—traitorous and humiliating. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and Viktor clearly noticed.

“Fine.” She yanked a chair back and sat. “But only because I don’t feel like starving to death today.”

Viktor chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Starving women don’t amuse me.”

She scoffed. “Oh, I’m here to entertain you now?”

“In a way.” He took a slow sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Your father was a terrible gambler. A man with no self-control. But you… I think you’re different.”

“You don’t know me,” she said sharply.

“I will.” His certainty sent a shiver down her spine.

The worst part? A small, treacherous part of her believed him.

⸻

An Escape Attempt

Evelyn had spent the day wandering the estate, searching for weaknesses in security. Every exit was guarded. Every hallway had cameras.

But she found one possible opening—the garden.

That night, when the house had settled into silence, she slipped out of her room, barefoot to avoid making noise. She crept through the halls, heart hammering. If she could just make it past the garden gate, she might have a chance.

Step by step, she moved through the shadows. The night air was cool against her skin as she reached the back of the property. The garden stretched before her, a labyrinth of trimmed hedges and winding paths.

And there it was. The side gate.

Her pulse raced. She had seconds before someone noticed she was gone.

She reached for the latch—

“You’re predictable.”

Her heart stopped.

Viktor’s voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

She turned sharply, and there he was, standing near the entrance to the garden. He looked utterly relaxed, like he had expected this all along.

“Nice try, tesoro.”

Evelyn’s breath came in sharp, angry bursts. “Let me go.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why?” she demanded. “What do you even want from me?”

Viktor took a slow step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of her.

“You don’t understand yet, do you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous behind it. “I don’t just own you, Evelyn. I own everything about you. Your freedom. Your choices. Your body.”

Her stomach clenched. “You’re insane.”

He tilted his head, watching her like she was something fascinating. “No, I’m just a man who gets what he wants.”

His fingers brushed against her wrist—light, but possessive. She yanked her hand away.

“You’ll get tired of this game eventually,” she spat. “You’ll get bored.”

Viktor laughed softly. “That’s where you’re wrong, dolcezza.”

His hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, firm but not painful. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

“I never get bored.”

She shivered, hating how easily he could affect her.

Then, just as quickly, he released her.

“Go back to bed,” he murmured, his eyes still holding that wicked amusement. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Evelyn hated him.

But she hated herself more for the way her pulse quickened every time he got too close.

Without another word, she turned and stormed back inside.

She would escape.

And when she did, Viktor Romano would regret ever thinking he could own her.