: Confronting My New Owner

Gia’s POV

My eyes blinked open, slow and heavy, stinging from the bright light as it settled in.

A cough slipped past my lips, rough and dry, like my throat had been scraped with sand.

My hand flew to my neck as a dull ache throbbed beneath the skin, my fingers brushing the sore spot.

And then it hit me.

The auction.

The man who reeked of death.

His hand over my mouth.

Me, passing out.

My eyes snapped open wide now.

And I saw him.

He sat across from me, one leg bent casually like this was a conversation, not a nightmare.

Just like before, his grey eyes locked on mine, piercing into every layer of my skin.

His expression showed no guilt, not even a hint that anything he did haunted him.

My chest tightened.

"You..." my voice cracked as I pushed myself upright, panic gripping my insides... "you tried to kill me."

He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

"Why did you bring me here?" I shouted, my voice rising.

My hand shot forward, finger pointed like it could burn a hole through his chest.

"Is this how you plan to wipe out the Giovanni name?"

My eyes darted around the room.

The living room was massive, high ceilings, gold décor...

But none of it mattered.

None of it felt real.

I scanned the space again, desperate for any window.

But the windows were buried behind heavy, creamy curtains, casting the entire room in a dim, oppressive gloom.

It felt like we were alone.

Just him and me.

And God, I feared for my life, that he’d kill me the same way he killed my father.

The light above burned too bright now, and there were no neon auction lights for him to hide behind.

I could finally see him clearly.

He wasn’t wearing the jacket from before.

Just a dark, fitted shirt clinging to his chest and arms, and black pants stretched over powerful thighs.

His hair was slicked back, a little messy. He looked too calm, like the chaos he’d caused didn’t matter.

He was tall. Clean-shaven. Cold.

Older, but in that maddening, dangerous way.

The kind that made your heart skip, both in fear and in admiration.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

Then came the words, low and smug.

"Pretty doll, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead."

That voice was deep and threatening.

Oh my God.

This man was a psycho.

How could he talk about killing someone like it was entertainment, something he did when he was bored?

There was no escape for me, so I had to try another strategy. Maybe I could appeal to his conscience, though I doubted he had one.

I sat up straighter.

"What more do you want from me?"

My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop.

"You killed my father. Isn’t that enough?"

The corner of his mouth lifted.

That same smug expression he wore at the auction.

He wasn’t even trying to deny it.

"You’re not going to lie?" I whispered. "You’re not even going to pretend you didn’t do it? I saw you. I saw the blood. I watched him fall. I watched you shoot him."

His face didn’t change.

Not even a trace of regret.

Just that look, like he was proud of it.

"Because he deserved it," he replied flatly. "Your father was the real monster. Death would’ve been too easy."

"Don’t you dare talk about him like that."

I lashed out, a raw instinct rising to defend the man I’d called father my whole life.

Even if some part of me was still scared...

Because I knew this man could kill me just as easily.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You really don’t know, do you?"

Silence.

His grin deepened.

"The kind of man he really was. The enemies he made. The blood he spilled. And you want to sit there and defend him like some little girl who doesn’t know what kind of world she was raised in?"

My dad was far from perfect, but he loved me, in his own way.

I remembered the nights he came home late and still read me bedtime stories.

How he’d kiss my forehead and call me his princess. How he promised to always protect me.

But I also remembered the locked doors.

The yelling behind them.

The bodyguards going in and out of rooms that were off-limits to me.

The months he never came home.

The fear in Aunt Camilla’s eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking.

She said he had enemies.

Maybe he’d just made one mistake.

Maybe he wasn’t the devil this man claimed.

"He wasn’t a monster," I whispered, though the words felt small now, like I was struggling to believe them myself.

He rose from his seat, his footsteps echoing as he came closer.

I backed into the couch, pressing my body as far as it could go, but it didn’t matter.

He already stood before me.

"People like your father always have two faces," he sneered.

"You only saw the version he wanted you to see."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing my cheek, slow and too warm for a killer.

A shiver tore through me, and I hated it.

So I turned my face away, ashamed that my body even responded to him.

But he didn’t let go.

He gripped my jaw, firm, tilting my face back to him.

His thumb dragged slowly from my cheek to the corner of my lips, parting them just slightly.

"This viper’s mouth of yours," he murmured, "I already told you, I’ll tame it... and put it to good use. Soon."

Fury surged through me and I slapped his hand away.

His eyes darkened.

Then his hand wrapped around my neck.

Not tight, but firm. Enough to still my breath and remind me exactly who held the power.

He yanked me forward until our faces nearly touched, his breath hot against my lips, burning through the small space between us.

It didn’t just warm my skin.

It awakened every nerve ending in my body.

"No one disrespects me," he gritted through clenched teeth. "Not the men who beg for mercy right before I put a bullet in their brains. Not the ones I bury alive. And definitely not you, pretty thing."

Fear shot through me, hearing the gruesome acts he had committed, but I couldn’t let it show.

"I don’t care," I shot back, voice shaking. "You killed my father. You took the only person I had left. How do you think that makes me feel?"

My throat tightened, and tears welled in my eyes despite how I fought to hold them back.

"Why?" I choked. "Why my dad? Why me?"

He stared at me.

Then he laughed wickedly.

"For revenge."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Your father took something from me," his voice was low and strained, as though a painful memory had just flashed in his head. "Something I can never get back."

"And this is how you repay him?" I asked, heart pounding. "By ruining the life of an innocent girl who knows nothing about any of this?"

"Oh no." He loosened his grip just slightly.

"This isn’t about ruining you."

His gaze locked onto mine, intense, piercing.

"This is about owning you."

It felt like the floor slipped out from under me.

I didn’t want to beg, but the thought of what the man who killed my father was capable of doing to me terrified every inch of my body.

"Please... let me go."

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction right before he released me.

I stumbled back, hands flying to my throat, massaging the tender spot where his fingers had pressed.

"Pretty doll," his voice was taunting, "I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

Then he smiled in a twisted way.

"I’ll take my revenge by punishing every inch of that body for one reason only... my pleasure."

: You only bought my virginity

Gia's POV

I shook my head in disbelief, trying to make sense of the cruel words spilling from his mouth. He didn’t just want a night with me, he wanted to use my body as punishment for my father’s sins.

It was sick, too much for me to process.

And yet, the look in his eyes told me he meant every word.

I was trapped.

But what unsettled me most was that the way he looked at me made my skin tingle with heat instead of just fear.

No. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t be weak, especially not with a man like him.

I had to fight this. Fight whatever was waking up inside me.

I had to fight him.

“You can’t just keep me here,” I protested, forcing strength into my voice. “You paid for just one night with me.”

His expression softened slightly. “One night wouldn’t be enough, not for what I have planned for you.”

“No!” I shot back at him. “That wasn’t the deal. Vincenzo said...”

He chuckled, low and bitter, cutting me off. “Vincenzo is a greedy bastard who sells flesh for pocket change. And in case it slipped your pretty little mind, I paid a whopping ten million dollars just to get you out of that hellhole. Do you even know what those men wanted?”

My chest heaved, breath shallow. Ten million... No man would pay that kind of money just to sleep with a woman. There had to be more.

“They wanted me to take you right there, to spread your thighs and fuck you in front of them like a show. Is that what you would’ve preferred?”

“No,” I shook my head, eyes stinging with tears. “Those men might be vile, but they aren’t the ones who murdered my father in cold blood, so I’d rather take my chances out there than be trapped in here with you.”

His eyes darkened.

“Enough. I’m not interested in your little speeches anymore. Is that understood?”

Then he turned, walked across the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a black file.

Without a word, he tossed it toward me.

It landed on the couch beside me with a soft thud.

I stared at it, confused. “What is this?”

“Open it,” he said coolly.

My hands trembled as I reached for it. I flipped it open.

And my heart sank.

The title was stamped in bold, black ink.

Mistress Contract.

I blinked. “What the...”

My eyes scanned the page. Terms. Conditions.

Rules I couldn’t believe I was reading. A clause stating that once I signed, my body would belong to him. My submission was his to control. He would dictate when I was touched, how I was touched, and I would have no right to refuse.

No safe words. No questions. Just obedience. Total, unquestioning obedience.

I would be his plaything, molded by his desires, trained to respond only to him.

And if I dared resist, he would break me until I learned how to kneel.

In exchange, he’d erase every debt my father owed, and offer me protection. But I would be owned by him forever. He wanted to make me his personal whore for life.

This contract was written like I was just property. What sick lawyer drew this up? I was certain this wasn’t even legal. But I guess in the mafia world, anything was.

I looked up at him, completely horrified.

How evil could a man be?

Fury surged in my chest. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever sign this,” I spat. “I’ll never be your mistress, not for all the money in the world, or your so-called protection.”

His face changed, and he crossed the room in seconds. His hand gripped a fistful of my hair, not yanking, but firm enough to make me yelp as our eyes locked.

“Let go of me!”

He didn’t.

His breath was close now. I could see every unhinged emotion in his eyes that revealed his possessive need for control.

“You will sign it,” he demanded coldly. “Because if you don’t, I’ll send you back to Vincenzo, and this time I won’t stop him. You saw that pig, Diallo, the sick bastard begging me to take you in front of a crowd like a circus act?”

I swallowed hard.

“He’ll be the first to get his disgusting hands on you. And then the rest will follow. Vincenzo will sell you again and again to the highest bidder until there’s nothing left of you. Do you understand me?”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“You think you’re free? That your last name protects you? Your father owed people more than you can count. There’s a line of men waiting to collect. The moment I walked into that room and paid for you, I spared you. And now you belong to me.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“And I’m giving you more than any of them would. A roof, safety, protection. All you have to do is sign.”

My chest heaved. “You’re despicable,” I seethed. “You and all those men, filthy, shameless, disgusting. How can you take pleasure in watching a woman be destroyed?”

His grip loosened from my hair as he stared at me mockingly.

“Your father took pleasure in it,” he whispered, voice venomous. “He did worse to women, far worse. Don’t you dare wear a crown of innocence for him.”

I froze. The weight of his words crashed over me.

Was it true?

Could my father have done those things?

I shoved the thought away.

“I hate you,” I hissed.

His fingers, rough and tender at the same time which surprised me, caressed my scalp, then slid slowly to the nape of my neck, continuing lower until his palm pressed into the small of my back.

And then, without warning, he pulled me forward, my body colliding with the hard wall of his chest.

My breath hitched.

Every part of him was pressed against me. Heat radiated off him, seeping through my skin, lighting up parts of me I didn’t know existed.

“It’s useless to fight me, Gia,” he murmured. “I’ll conquer every part of you.”

His grip tightened. “You can’t run. You can’t hide. And the sooner you accept that, the less it’ll hurt.”

I summoned whatever strength I had and shoved at his chest.

But the second my hands touched him, I stilled.

He didn’t budge.

Every part of him was solid and hot. My fingers curled slightly into his shirt instead of pushing back.

And he made it worse by pressing his hand harder into my spine, pushing my core against his.

“Think I’m a monster?” he whispered, his voice calm as ever. “You’re not wrong. But out there...”

His lips hovered near my ear, voice dark. “There are worse. And they’re waiting for you.”

My heart pounded in my chest, harder than before.

And then, just like that, he let go.

The heat disappeared with him.

I should’ve felt relief.

Instead, it felt like a tiny part of me missed that heat.

He turned back to the desk, pulled out another folder, and tossed it onto the couch beside me.

“Your father didn’t just owe Vincenzo.”

A chill ran through me.

He flipped the file open and pointed to a page.

“Three names. All worse than me. Men your father borrowed from in the past year alone. Do you know why?”

I shook my head.

“To buy power,” he said, lifting a brow. “Weapons. Connections. He wanted a bigger seat at the table. But he got greedy. And reckless.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered, voice cracking.

He didn’t blink. “He never told you, did he?”

“Oh, it’s true,” he continued coldly. “Your daddy planned a shipment of black market weapons, routed through the borders. Only I got there first. I intercepted every damn crate. Left him with knockoffs and a long list of furious investors.”

“You’re making all of this up to justify what you did,” I countered, terror gripping my throat. “You’re trying to scare me into giving in.”

For a second, his expression softened. “You’ll find out,” he said quietly. “In time. Who your father really was. And how many lives he destroyed.”

Then his voice dropped lower, more lethal.

“But for now....”

He stepped in, his gaze dipping inside my cleavage like a predator sizing up its prey.

“I plan to get to know every inch of you. Because now, you belong to me.”

His hand moved slowly, sliding across my chest.

The sheer fabric of the dress was useless, barely hiding the curve of my breasts.

I saw it in his eyes, the hunger, the ownership.

He stared at my breasts like they were his to devour.

And my body, God help me, reacted. His touch sparked a heat low in my belly, and I fought to shut it down before it took over completely.

“You disgust me,” I choked out, hoping it would push him away.

“Do I?” His thumb slid even lower, inside the dress, teasing the top of my chest in feathery strokes.

“I will never belong to you!” I jerked back, trying to break free.

“Oh, pretty little thing...” he leaned in, voice mocking, “your body already says otherwise.”

I looked down and gasped.

My nipples were hard and already peaking through the sheer fabric, as if begging for his attention.

“No...” I tried to cover myself, humiliated.

But he caught my wrists before I could. Then he yanked me against him, chest to chest.

My sensitive peaks brushed against the hard plane of his chest. The contact sent a jolt through me, and a gasp escaped before I could stop it. “Oh God...”

The sudden sound startled me, and the smug look on his face made it clear he noticed.

He was enjoying every second of watching my body react to him.

It only deepened my hatred for him. He wanted to humiliate me, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. Ever.

“You only bought my virginity!” I cried, trembling, not from fear, but from the desperate need to end his cold torment. “Take it... and let me go.”

He let out a dark, amused laugh. “Oh no. I bought all of you, your tears, your moans, your rebellion, and your surrender.”

His eyes burned, but what made it worse was how utterly unrepentant he looked. All the rage I’d carried since the night he shattered my world surged through me, twice as fierce, too heavy to hold back.

So I lashed out.

“You’re the worst kind of monster, a murderer without a shred of guilt for his victims.”

His features shifted, hardening into something ruthless and unforgiving.

“Then I’ll be your monster, the one who brings you to your fucking knees.”

: What if it was drugged, or worse, poisoned?

Gianna’s POV

My mouth went dry as I backed away, each step slower than the last. Dante’s voice, deep and terrifying, sent a chill crawling down my spine.

This wasn’t a nightmare I could wake up from.

This was real.

Dante De Luca, the monster who shot my father, was real. Flesh and blood. And I was alone in his home with no way out. There was only one path laid out for me: to be his mistress. For life.

Terror pressed down on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. My lips trembled.

“God help me,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “This can’t be my life. I can’t belong to this monster.”

He tilted his head, amused.

Then he laughed, cruelly.

“No one’s coming to save you,” he mocked.

The dark humor in his tone pierced through my chest, driving the panic deeper. The room seemed to tilt, everything fading around me.

“I can’t be trapped here,” I muttered. “I refuse to be trapped here.”

My breathing quickened, and it felt like my senses slipped away from me.

“Help!” I screamed, eyes darting around the lavish living room until they landed on the massive steel door across the room. My adrenaline surged. That was it, the way out.

I didn’t think, I just ran. I threw myself at the door, gripped the handle with both hands, and yanked hard.

Nothing.

“Help!” I screamed again, banging my fists against the metal. “Please! Anyone, please!”

Suddenly a screen lit up on the wall beside the door, blinking cold blue text.

To open, enter code.

Dread crashed into me like a wave. I had no code. No way out. I was locked in.

Behind me, I heard him laugh again. He sounded amused, like I was putting on a show just for him.

“Little firecracker,” Dante murmured. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

I spun around, breathing ragged, but he was already there, towering over me.

“Surely you’ve figured it out by now,” he said, his tone colder than stone. “I own not just this building, but the entire estate. Even if by some miracle you got through that door, you wouldn’t make it ten steps. My men are stationed at every exit. You’d be dragged back to me, bleeding, if they’re feeling generous.”

His eyes darkened as he stepped closer.

I stepped back, one foot at a time, until my spine hit the steel door. His words made it clear, there was nowhere to run. I didn’t even know where I was or how to make it out.

Still, what was I supposed to do? Just give in?

I had to try. Who wouldn’t try to run from their father’s killer?

I opened my mouth to scream again, but before a sound could escape, he grabbed me. His hand clamped over my mouth.

“Strike one, little girl,” he hissed into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Try that again, and I’ll punish you.”

My blood boiled with fear and fury. I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t some pet he could threaten into obedience. Rage surged up and took over.

So I bit him.

Hard.

He cursed under his breath and pulled back. I slipped from his grasp and stumbled away.

“Let me out of here!” I cried. “I’m not interested in being your whore!”

He looked at little bite mark on his palm,

and fury overtook him.

Before I could move again, he grabbed me and slammed me back against the door. The impact rattled through my bones.

I gasped, but it turned into a choked whimper as his hand wrapped tight around my throat and lifted me off the ground. My feet dangled in the air.

I clawed at his arm, kicking helplessly, lungs burning.

“Little girl,” he growled, his eyes burning into mine, “I could end it all right now. I could squeeze the life from you and watch your body hit this floor, and not lose a single hour of sleep.”

My vision blurred. My body trembled.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

“Please,” I rasped, voice barely a whisper. “Stop. I can’t breathe.”

“Can’t you now?” he sneered, his grip loosening slightly. “And what exactly did you think, Gianna? That you could go against me and walk away?”

I shook my head wildly, tears spilling down my cheeks. My limbs started to go numb.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I choked out. “It was a mistake. Just don’t kill me, please.”

The look in his eyes softened, just for a moment.

And then, slowly, he released his grip and let me down.

My feet hit the ground shakily, knees threatening to give out beneath me as I gasped for air.

Instinctively, my hand flew to my throat, coughing uncontrollably, each breath scraping against the pain circling there.

A painful reminder of how close I’d come to losing it all. I didn’t even know what I’d been thinking. How could I have been so reckless?

I didn’t want to see his face, not after feeling his fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air out of me like I was nothing. A toy to be broken. A lesson to be taught.

But then I felt his arms, warm and strong, wrap around me. And before I could flinch, he lifted me with a startling gentleness, as if none of it had just happened.

I gasped again, stunned by the softness in his touch, but I knew better than to fight him now.

I knew exactly what he was capable of.

He walked across the massive living room with me cradled in his arms like a doll. Then he lowered me onto the velvet sofa carefully, as though I might break if he set me down too hard.

Still not knowing what to make of this version of him, I crawled away from him, just a few inches, but he reached out, brushing my hair gently away from my face.

His fingers trailed to my neck, slow and careful. His touch was soft, but it still made me tense. He examined the marks, fingertips grazing the skin he’d just tried to crush.

“It’s just faintly bruised,” he said, his voice tender now. “I’ll get you something for it.”

I simply nodded.

I didn’t trust myself not to say something provoking, and I didn’t want to risk angering him again.

Then he stepped back and looked at me with a coldness that made my blood run colder.

“That was strike two,” he warned.

“And by the third strike, you’ll regret you ever went against me.”

My heart stilled.

“You want to get punished, Gianna? Keep pushing.”

It was the first time he had said my name out loud, and for some unexplainable reason, shivers raced down my spine at the way the last syllable rolled off his tongue.

He rose without another word and crossed the room, pressing a button on a small control panel built into the wall.

A few seconds later, the massive steel door swung open, and a woman walked in. She looked like she was in her forties, and she held a silver tray with a glass of water.

“Here, young lady.” She offered the glass with a kind voice, though her eyes darted between me and Dante like she was scared for me.

I blinked at her. How could someone who looked so decent, so normal, work for a man like this?

Then I felt his gaze on me again.

I slowly reached for the glass, my hand shaking. The woman gave me a quiet nod, then stepped back. She and Dante exchanged a single glance. Nothing was said, but she passed something to him that I couldn’t quite make out.

And their mannerism told me everything I needed to know about their relationship. They’d probably worked together for a long time. Maybe she had seen worse. Maybe she was used to it.

My dad had taught me how to read people’s body movements in one of the many lessons he put me through. Now I wished I had paid more attention when he spoke, but I had been too busy living a sheltered life, never knowing the day would come when I would be all alone.

The glass shook in my hand as I stared down at the clear liquid.

It looked normal, but I didn’t feel safe.

My thoughts raced. What if it was drugged, or worse, poisoned?