Sold To The Mafia King
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Introduction
As we reached the main road, my father stopped, seemingly waiting for someone.
"Papa, why are we here?" I questioned, my voice trembling.
"Be quiet, Aria. You ask too many questions" he replied, refusing to meet my gaze.
"Papa?" I called out, concerned as I noticed his trembling hands and perspiring brow. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What's wrong?" I asked, my worry intensifying. He seemed worn out and stressed, as if he might collapse at any moment.
"Aria," he began, but his sentence was cut short by the squealing of tires approaching us. Not just one car, but two... no, three. Before I could comprehend what was happening, we were surrounded.
The door of the Lamborghini Huracán swung open, and a tall man stepped out. I found myself gaping at him before a black sack was forcefully placed over my head. I struggled, kicking and fighting, but then I heard a distinct click.
"Do anything stupid, and Francesco dies..."
"Francesco? That was my father... my own father.." I tried to calm myself, even though not entirely successfully, as I was thrown into a car. The journey began, and with the sack still covering my face, I had no idea where they were taking me. When the sack was finally removed, I found myself standing before Alessandro Genovese…
SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING Copyright 2023. Blaliy Lilian.A.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written consent of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously and are a product of the author’s imagination.
"Papa, why are we here?" I questioned, my voice trembling.
"Be quiet, Aria. You ask too many questions" he replied, refusing to meet my gaze.
"Papa?" I called out, concerned as I noticed his trembling hands and perspiring brow. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What's wrong?" I asked, my worry intensifying. He seemed worn out and stressed, as if he might collapse at any moment.
"Aria," he began, but his sentence was cut short by the squealing of tires approaching us. Not just one car, but two... no, three. Before I could comprehend what was happening, we were surrounded.
The door of the Lamborghini Huracán swung open, and a tall man stepped out. I found myself gaping at him before a black sack was forcefully placed over my head. I struggled, kicking and fighting, but then I heard a distinct click.
"Do anything stupid, and Francesco dies..."
"Francesco? That was my father... my own father.." I tried to calm myself, even though not entirely successfully, as I was thrown into a car. The journey began, and with the sack still covering my face, I had no idea where they were taking me. When the sack was finally removed, I found myself standing before Alessandro Genovese…
SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING Copyright 2023. Blaliy Lilian.A.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written consent of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously and are a product of the author’s imagination.
Chapter 1
"La signora davanti a voi è esaurita, è tutta vostra. (The lady standing before you is sold, she's all yours)". My dad said with a cold demeanor.
My heart skipped a beat upon hearing this. Did my father really mean what he said? I narrowed my eyes, studying the indifferent man in front of me. It was clear that my father's words held no significance to him. After my father's lengthy rambling, he rose from his seat. Alessandro Genovese, a powerful figure, approached us with deliberate steps. Through his shirt and loosened tie, I could sense a reluctance to conform with societal norms. It seemed I had momentarily forgotten who was advancing towards me, as I was captivated by his tall and handsome figure. My mind struggled to find the right words to describe his elegance.
Lost in my thoughts and unaware of his close proximity, he suddenly grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him and snapping me back to reality.
"She's sold?."
I looked at my father, who was trembling and sweating profusely, his nod confirming his agreement with the man's statement.
"Sold?" I whispered, startled as his voice echoed next to me.
"Maledetti figli di puttana" (Bloody motherfuckers), he muttered, but my confused expression prompted no explanation.
"Paolo!" he called out, and a tall man entered the room, positioning himself not far from the door.
"There's another one, take her."
Time seemed to stand still as I stared at my father, who avoided my gaze with great conviction.
"Paolo!" he called again, his voice now louder and more menacing.
Paolo approached me and forcefully gripped my arm, causing me to flinch from the pain. "Let me go!" I couldn't help but yell, not wanting to provoke Alessandro Genovese in front of me.
"You're coming with me," he asserted, dragging me along despite my resistance.
"No! Papa!" I pleaded within my heart. "Papa, do something!" I yelled, continuing to struggle as Alessandro spoke from his position.
"Tell her, Francesco. Your daughter is confused."
All eyes turned to my father, who gulped nervously and struggled to catch his breath, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
"Francesco!" Alessandro thundered, causing my father to jolt and fall to his knees, squealing in fear.
"Mi dispiace Aria, ma questa è la tua nuova casa, abituati" (I'm sorry, Aria, but this is your new home. Get used to it), my father confessed, a mix of regret and resignation evident in his voice.
A satisfied smile appeared on Alessandro's face, as he turned his gaze back to me. "Did you hear him, Aria Francesco?"
"No, please," I whispered, looking at my father with pleading eyes, but he refused to meet my gaze.
"Sei mio" (You're mine), he emphasized, before signaling Paolo to take me away.
"No!" I struggled, causing Paolo to become irritated as he lifted me off the ground and carried me out, despite my continuous pleas.
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Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
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