SOLD TO THE MAFIA BOSS

Leave me alone! Let me go!" Lena screamed, struggling desperately as two men dragged her across the polished marble floor. Her heels scraped against the ground, and her hands twisted violently in the iron grip of the men holding her. "Please! You can't do this to me! I haven't done anything wrong!" Nobody answered her. Nobody even looked at her. The men dragging her appeared deaf to her cries, as though they had done this a thousand times before and had long since grown tired of listening to people beg for mercy. One of them tightened his grip around her arm when she tried to pull away. "Keep moving," he growled. "Unless you want us to drag you the rest of the way." "Where are you taking me?" Lena demanded, her voice shaking. "Please, just tell me what you want from me!" The man laughed without humor. "You'll find out soon enough." Her heart pounded so violently that she could barely breathe. She had no idea where they were taking her, who these men worked for, or why they had appeared at her home in the middle of the night and treated her like a criminal. All she knew was that she had never been so terrified in her entire life. They had arrived less than an hour earlier, dressed in black, with cold expressions and weapons tucked beneath their jackets. They had forced their way through the front door of her small apartment, ignored her questions, and demanded that she come with them. When she refused, they had seized her by the arms and dragged her outside. She had screamed for help, but the neighbors had wisely kept their doors shut. Whoever these men were, they were not ordinary troublemakers. They carried themselves with the terrifying confidence of people who believed they could get away with anything. And perhaps they could. The men dragged her through another set of enormous doors, and Lena's breath caught in her throat. The room beyond them was enormous, with dark walls, expensive furniture, and a chandelier that glittered above a long black table. Tall windows overlooked the city, where lights shimmered against the night sky. Everything about the place screamed wealth, power, and danger. Several men stood along the walls, their expressions unreadable. Some wore suits. Others wore black shirts with their sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular arms and tattoos that disappeared beneath their clothing. A few glanced at Lena as she entered, but none appeared surprised to see a frightened young woman being dragged into the room. They were accustomed to this sort of thing. That realization made her stomach twist. Then she saw him. He sat behind a massive desk at the far end of the room, one hand resting beside a glass of amber liquid. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, a white shirt, and a dark watch that looked more expensive than everything Lena owned combined. His black hair was neatly styled, and his face was strikingly handsome in a way that almost seemed unfair. But there was nothing warm about him. His features were sharp, his expression cold, and his dark eyes carried a frightening stillness that made Lena feel as though he could look straight through her. He did not rise when she was brought before him. He did not ask why she was crying. He did not even look particularly interested in the struggle that had brought her into his presence. He simply lifted his eyes from the document on his desk and studied her. Damien Cross. Even before anyone spoke his name, Lena sensed that the man sitting before her was the reason everyone else in the room stood so rigidly. He was not merely wealthy. He was the kind of man whose money opened doors, whose connections silenced questions, and whose anger could destroy lives. He was the man her father had spent months avoiding. He was the man whose name had appeared on the contract that had turned her life into a nightmare. And he was the man she had prayed she would never have to meet. "Leave me! Please!" Lena cried again, twisting against the men holding her. "I don't know what you want! I swear I don't know anything!" Damien's expression did not change. He slowly placed the document in his hand on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "Is she always this loud?" he asked. His voice was deep, smooth, and frighteningly calm. One of the men holding Lena answered immediately. "She has been shouting since we picked her up, sir." Damien's gaze returned to her face. "I see." Lena swallowed. "Sir, please. If you would just tell me what this is about, I can explain. What mistake i've made, I'm sure we can settle it." One of the men snorted. Damien raised a hand, and the sound died immediately. Then he stood. Lena had not realized how tall he was until he walked around the desk. He moved with an unhurried confidence that made the other men seem nervous despite their size. He stopped directly in front of her. Up close, he was even more intimidating. His cologne carried a faint scent of cedar and something darker, and his eyes were so cold that Lena instinctively stepped backward. The men holding her arms prevented her from moving. "Look at me," Damien ordered. Lena kept her eyes lowered. "I said, look at me." She slowly raised her head. Damien reached out and placed two fingers beneath her chin, lifting it until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His touch was not rough, but the gesture made her feel as though she had lost even the smallest amount of control over herself. He examined her face with the detached interest of someone inspecting a possession he had just acquired. Lena's cheeks were wet with tears. A few strands of hair had fallen across her forehead, and her breathing remained uneven from the struggle. She hated that he could see her fear. She hated that he seemed completely unaffected by it. After several seconds, the corner of his mouth moved slightly. "Acceptable," he murmured. Lena stared at him. "What?" Damien released her chin and turned toward the men behind her. "Take her to the mansion. Put her in the third-floor bedroom beside mine." Lena's blood ran cold. "No!" she cried. No please! You can't keep me here!" Damien ignored her. "Make sure she has everything she needs. Food, clothing, toiletries. Whatever is necessary." One of the men nodded. "Yes, sir." "And make one thing clear to her." Damien turned back toward Lena. His expression hardened. "She does not leave this property without my permission." Lena felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath her feet. "You can't do this!" she shouted. "Who do you think you are? You have no right to take me ,For the first time, something resembling amusement flickered across Damien's face. "No right?" he repeated softly. He returned to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed a folded document. He held it up between two fingers. "Your father disagrees." Lena froze. Her father's name struck her like a physical blow.