Sold To The Wrong Mr. Right

Gunmetal Eyes

Ava's POV

My thoughts swirled, a jumbled mess. After the explosive argument with Carlos, I found myself in a bar, a place I'd never set foot in before. The irony wasn't lost on me – I'd always viewed those who relied on alcohol as weak, yet here I was, seeking solace in a glass.

As I stared at the drink, hesitation gripped me. At twenty-three, this would be my first taste of alcohol. Though I'd always avoided it, desperation drove me to seek a distraction from my thoughts.

The burial, the contract marriage to a stranger, the inheritance – everything churned in my stomach like a toxic storm. My head throbbed, exacerbated by the bar's pulsating music.

I raised the glass, tossing back the contents in one swift motion. The burn down my throat made me wince.

My life had become a tragic movie, but I clung to the hope that I could change my fate. Grandfather's promise of his inheritance had thrilled me, but doubt now crept in. What if he, too, changed his mind and left everything to Carlos?

“A penny for your thoughts?”

I was startled, turning to face the speaker. A charming smile accompanied the deep, masculine voice.

“Excuse me?” I asked, politeness tempered with wariness, scanning the crowded bar to see if he'd mistaken me for someone else. My simple attire allowed me to blend in, a stark contrast to the fashionable patrons.

He signaled the bartender for a drink, his gaze still locked on me. “No, but among everyone here, you're the only one wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

His words puzzled me, but I sensed a hint of genuine interest behind them.

Should I apologize for my troubles? Did it matter to him? I furrowed my brows, intrigued. “What do you mean?” I asked.

His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, framed by perfectly gelled hair. Confidence radiated from him, but beneath his charming smile, I sensed a storm.

“You're wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he repeated, his gaze holding mine.

I took in his tailored suit and composed demeanor, but my mind wandered to my impending marriage. Would my husband be handsome, or an old man with wrinkling skin, like I feared? Judging by my brother's taste in choosing life partners, and his wife as evidence of it, I doubted the man would be anything close to good-looking.

He offered me his drink, and I downed it in one gulp, seeking escape. “That was fast,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

As I continued drinking, the world began to spin, and my head throbbed. The man's face blurred, morphing into two.

“Hey, can I take you somewhere incredible?” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief.

I shook my head, struggling to stand. His proximity made me uneasy. I gripped the counter to avoid falling, cursing myself for my reckless behavior. I tried to navigate through the crowd, but someone seized my arm, their grip like a vice. I flinched, pain shooting through me.

“What are you doing?” My voice sounded distant, drowned out by the music.

“Come with me,” the man from earlier pulled me along, ignoring my struggles. My attempts to break free only made me dizzier, and his grip stronger.

“Let me go!” I screamed, fighting against him, but he dragged me further away from the crowd, down a dimly lit hallway. The sound of footsteps echoed, sending chills down my spine.

“Ahh!” I yelped as he threw me into a spacious room. My gaze darted around, landing on a group of men sitting across the room.

“Nice of you, Pedro. You finally got the girl,” one of them said, their accent strong. They spoke to the man behind me which made me realize I didn't even know his name.

“Now what do you plan to do with her?” another voice asked, making my stomach turn. I felt nauseous.

What have I gotten myself into? Amidst the pain, my body burned with an unsettling heat.

“Was she difficult?” someone asked.

Pedro sneered. “She was quite easy.”

“You spiked her drink?” another voice accused, their tone laced with concern.

My heart skipped a beat, panic set in. What did they plan to do with me?

“Enough to leave her begging at our mercy in the next ten minutes. It'll last for six hours,” Pedro said, his gaze crawling over me like a sinister promise.

Goosebumps spread across my arms as the men chuckled, and their satisfaction was chilling.

Pedro dragged me to the bed, and I jerked upright in shock. My legs shaking in fear, thoughts jumbled and chaotic. Nevertheless, I snapped out of my trance when Pedro held the front of my dress ready to tear it apart.

“Let go of me! Help! Someone help me!” I screamed, finding my voice.

Strong hands pinned me down, another grasping my wrists above my head. Tears streamed down my face as I writhed, the burning sensation intensifying.

“Don't touch me! Help!” My words were strained, muffled by a hand clamping over my mouth.

Four men surrounded me, their eyes predatory. “No one can hear you behind these walls. No one is coming for you, princess,” a dark chuckle followed.

Hot tears streamed down my temples as I prayed, promising to do better next time, to return home to my brother if I survived the night.

Their hands roamed, invading my personal space – thighs, hair, wrists, and shoulders.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and their hands halted.

My gaze followed the sound, finding a tall, imposing figure standing at the door, his face obscured by darkness. I held my breath as the mysterious stranger approached, his footsteps echoing through the room. The men cowering beside me heightened my fear.

“L-Lore--” Pedro stammered, his voice trembling.

“Let her go,” the man's deep, authoritative voice commanded.

The hands holding me down trembled, then released. I felt a mix of relief and terror, unsure if he was a savior or another threat.

Pedro forced a smile. “I'm glad you're here. I thought you changed your mind.”

An awkward silence followed, punctuated by the man's menacing presence.

A sweaty hand touched my cheek, making me cringe. "Come, let's all have a taste before we continue–”

A loud gunshot shattered the air, freezing my heart. I gasped, terror overwhelming me. The room erupted into chaos – bangs, shouts, and screams. I shut my eyes, bit my lip, and buried my face in the mattress.

The silence that followed the gunfire was deafening. My muscles remained tense, my senses overwhelmed by the lingering smell of blood and sweat. A warm jacket was draped over me, making me flinch. Cautiously, I opened my eyes to find the man still looming, his gunmetal eyes now visible.

His gaze was blank, unreadable. He turned to leave, but I couldn't let him go. My heart still racing, I whispered, “Wait… please help me.” My voice was barely audible, but he paused at the door.

Summoning what little strength I had, I rose to my feet, trying to ignore the warmth and wetness beneath me. The room spun, threatening to engulf me. I fixed my gaze on him, clutching the jacket tightly to keep myself upright. My legs wobbled, threatening to buckle.

Just as I stumbled, he caught me, pulling me upright. His grip was firm, reassuring. My breath hitched as he leaned in, his face inches from mine. I felt a rush of uncertainty, unsure what to expect.

Suddenly, he swept me off my feet, cradling me in his arms. I felt a surge of relief, mixed with fear. Who was this man? Why was he helping me?

As he carried me out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the c*****e behind us. The aftermath of the gunfire was gruesome, a stark reminder of the danger I'd faced.

His cologne wafted up, and I was enveloped in a potent blend of leather, spice, and copper. The scent was intoxicating, but it was his touch that sent shivers down my spine. His hands rested on the back of my legs, stirring memories of the chaos we'd left behind.

With each step, my vision began to blur. Dark spots danced before my eyes, and my heartbeat slowed. The darkness closed in, threatening to consume me.

Despite my uncertainty about our destination, I fought to stay conscious. But exhaustion won, weighed down by the turmoil of the night. His scent seemed to deepen my drowsiness.

My eyelids drooped, heavy as lead. Yet, I mustered the strength for one last glance at my rescuer. His face left me breathless – chiseled features, sharp jawline, and piercing gunmetal eyes.

It was the last thing I saw before darkness claimed me.