OWNED BY THE DON: 100 Filthy Debts

Chapter 2b: Caught Like a Little Dove

Ava's POV

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The Escalade moved through Manhattan like it owned the lanes — which, I was beginning to suspect, was not entirely metaphorical. The city slid past the tinted windows in its nighttime palette of neon and shadow, and I sat between two men who communicated primarily in silence and thought about how catastrophically my night had derailed.

HE sat across from me. That was the configuration. Two of his men flanking me and him in the seat opposite, watching me with an expression that gave nothing away.

"I can't be of any use to you."

I got no response for my words.

"Am I going to get sold? Or am I in any sort of danger?

I was met with another round of silence.

"Even if you were going to kill me, you wouldn't do that in a moving vehicle," I said steadily, which was quite impressive because I'd be lying if I said I was no longer scared shitless. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and ignored the tremor in my voice as I continued confidently. "That would be far too messy. You look like someone who cares about their reputation and would not want to get their hands...or their car seat dirty."

That got the handsome man's attention as his eyes moved over my face, then settled on my head. He had narrowed eyes, those kind that seemed natural, like an Asian's. But he was Italian.

A pretty Italian man with nice, chiseled jaws and attractive lips.

Fuck my life. Because why were such stupid thoughts coming to my mind when I should be scared of getting my stomach gutted out of my throat slashed by the same group of men I'd seen put a bullet into a man's skull just a while ago?

"I'm not going to kill you at all," the handsome man finally said, his dark gaze trailing over me as he regarded me cooly. "At least not tonight."

There was something in his gaze, though I couldn't put my hand on what exactly that was. His words sounded like they meant more than what he just stated.

'At least not tonight' was doing a lot of work in that sentence. Meaning that they could still decide to kill me sometime in the future. Who was he? What did he do for a living? probably killing people since that was what happened tonight...

"Then what are you going to do with me? Where are you taking me? I promise you that I didn't see anything and I don't know anything. I'll just resume work tomorrow and act like I don't know anything." I confess desperately even as I size up the three men.

My self defense skills could've come in handy a little bit had I just focused when I was learning two years ago. I hadn't taken it seriously since I was no longer staying with my mom and her gym instructor predator of a husband, with his beady eyes and wandering hands, but maybe I should've taken self defense classes more seriously.

At least then I would've fought tooth and nail and maybe even crashed the car even if I wouldn't be able to get out of it. A little chaos wouldn't be bad. Just that, it could lead to me getting my neck snapped.

Just when I batted my eyelashes at the man and gave him my most sincere look, he chuckled humorlessly. "I refuse."

I gasp at his blunt refusal. "My boss at the club is a mean man, he can do really wicked things to people. Tony is more wicked than just killing someone like your men did in that room. If he sets out to ruin someone, they're gone. Please let me go, I won't tell a soul!"

One of the men on his right chuckled. "He could try it and see what happens."

A frown masked my forehead. It seemed they knew Tony's limits and were maybe even more dangerous than him.

"Who are you?" I blurted out curiously.

I knew some of the Arabian gang members that usually frequented the club. But those ones never got VIP rooms, even though they were also quite loaded. If it was any of the Arabian gang members I was used to seeing, then it would be better off if I got dropped like the man from earlier, because they could be quite nasty in their dealings.

At least that was what I'd become aware of through hushed whispers. No one ever openly mentioned it, because the walls had ears.

"Someone who is currently deciding what to do with a very inconvenient witness." His gaze was direct and unblinking in a way that most people's wasn't — he'd long since stopped being the one who looked away first. "The more useful question is who 'you' are. And what your connection to Tony is."

I said nothing.

"You borrowed money from him." He said it like he already knew and was simply confirming. "Ten thousand. You're behind on payments."

My stomach dropped. When did he find out about that? The whole incident happened just like forty five minutes ago.

"How do you—"

"I own Tony's debt," he said simply. "Which means I own Tony. Which means I have access to every transaction that moves through that club." His eyes dropped, briefly, to the zip tie on my wrists. "Cut those."

One of his men produced a blade and the zip tie fell away. I resisted the urge to visibly rub my slightly sore wrists, not wanting to look delicate.

"My name is Domenico Rossi." His rich voice continued. He said his name the way people say things that they expect to land, watching for the recognition, the fear. And of course, it all slammed into me in slow waves. You've got to be kidding me! "You may have heard of my family."

I had.

Everyone had heard of his family.

The Rossi name moved through certain conversations the way weather moved through a city. You heard it before it arrived, felt it before you saw it. Old money, old blood, a legitimate business empire that was the skin over something much older and darker.

My hands were completely steady in my lap and I decided that was an achievement worth noting.

"So." I kept my voice even, trying to keep the tremor out of it. "What happens now? You're not killing me, and you're my boss's boss. What's next?"

He looked at me for a long moment, those impossible eyes, that unreadable face.

"Now," he said, "we go to my penthouse. And we have a conversation about your debt."