CHAPTER 3. SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER!

   “Move Slut…”

I was being pushed forward, fully facing the men waiting to have me as one of their possessions.

Their gazes crawled over me like filthy hands, stripping me bare even though I was already exposed. Many were already staring down at me like I should have been kneeling at their feet, sucking their disgusting balls.

A deep, gravelly voice from the front row cut through the room.

“So Dimitri had this perfect toy but decided to let us waste money on lesser things before finally bringing her out, huh?”

The speaker was an older man, likely in his fifties, his sagging skin barely visible beneath the thick haze of cigarette smoke curling from his lips. Two blondes, no older than I was—were kneeling between his legs, their fingers wrapped around his cock as they played with him like a pet. He barely spared them a glance.

Toy. That’s all these bastards saw me as? A fucking toy?

My blood turned to ice, and my pulse hammered against my ribs. I can’t be sold. I won’t let this happen.

A smooth voice filled the air, amplified by hidden speakers. “Don Dimitri decided it’s best she be saved for the kings. If you want her, then be prepared to pay a proper price.”

Dimitri. That must be my captor. The man who had my family slaughtered and brought me here. 

You must not forget his name. You're not allowed to!

The auctioneer coughed lightly before continuing, his tone rich with amusement. “Gentlemen, as you can see, we have a rare beauty for tonight’s final bid.”

Final bid? I wasn’t just another girl in this auction. I was the prize, the grand fucking finale.

I clenched my jaw. I have to do something. Anything. I won’t be sold to these monsters.

“She’s unbroken. Untouched. And most importantly, she comes from distinguished blood. Sinclair Lewis, the ingrate and betrayal was her father.”

Was.

That word sent an arrow through my chest. Was. My father is dead. Killed. Murdered by these very men who now sat in their luxury seats, drinking expensive whiskey, ready to bid on me like I was cattle. And that idiot dare refer to my father as was?

How dare he? How dare he think I'm one of those girls who would accept whatever fate throws at her?

They are wrong. All fucking wrong!

A strangled sound erupted from my throat as I jerked against my restraints, my wrists screaming from the force. I won’t let them own me. I won’t let them win.

I'm going to kill every single one of them! I'm going to find them and haunt them down.

Laughter rippled through the room. My efforts to not let them see me as weak was rather taken for amusement.

“She’s got fire,” a man murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. “I’d love to see her struggle like this when she’s pinned beneath me.”

Another chuckled in response.

In your fucking dreams, asshole.

I wanted to spit at him, to scream, to tell him he's wrong, but the gag in my mouth turned my fury into muffled protests. Still, I refused to stop fighting, twisting, kicking—even knowing it was useless.

Anything at all is way better than to accept this.

Just as I was still struggling, the big guy who took me out of the cage walked to my side, his hand yanked the chain attached to my collar, the same way Cyril had done earlier, and I gasped as it tightened mercilessly around my throat. My vision blurred, red-hot panic flaring in my chest as I choked, struggling for breath.

“One more stupid move, and every single Lord in this room will feast on you until they’re satisfied,” the guard growled against my ear, his grip unyielding.

I gagged, my lungs burning. My body twitched with the primal need for air. The room spun, darkness creeping into my vision, until suddenly he released me.

I collapsed forward, gasping, sucking in air greedily. My throat throbbed, the collar digging into my raw skin.

I want to die. I wanted nothing more than death.

I clenched my fists against the cold metal cuffs, while I coughed vigorously, my throat burning from lack of air and water.

The auctioneer, completely unfazed by the display, stepped forward, my blurry gaze following his polished shoes as they clicked against the stage. His mouth curled into a satisfied smirk as he faced the audience.

“Shall we begin the bidding?” A tense silence fell over the room. “The bidding opening price is one million dollars.”

“One million.”

The voice was familiar—the same man who had spoken earlier, the one who wanted to see me struggle underneath him. He raised his tag number, his gaze glued to my body.

I held his gaze, refusing to look away and giving him the satisfaction that I was some weak girl.

“One point five million.” Another said, raising his tag.

My stomach dropped. These people were throwing money to possess me. It only dawned on me that sooner or later, I would be a hapless obedient toy to one of these men.

I'll do anything to escape that.

I scanned the room frantically, my pulse hammering against my ribs. There had to be a way out. Maybe, the cops would barge in and put an end to this nightmare.

Wishful thinking. These men a people who surpass the law.

“Three million…”

The numbers kept climbing. Each bid was another nail in my coffin, sealing my fate. I felt like an animal being auctioned off to the highest bidder. My body, my freedom, my life, none of it belonged to me anymore.

I searched the crowd desperately, looking for anything—anyone—that could save me.

Then, my gaze caught a looming figure at the far end of the room.

How had I not noticed him before?

He didn’t belong here. No, he had the aura of a man who owned everywhere he stepped his foot on. His expression was unreadable, detached, yet piercing. His amber eyes burned like dying embers, flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. They reminded me of the sun setting in a winter forest, surrounded by withered leaves—a slow, beautiful death.

Half of his face was swallowed by the dark, making it impossible to see his full features. Was he truly here? Or had my mind conjured him in my desperation?

He didn’t leer. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t look at me like a prize to be won. He looked at me like I belonged to him. Like he owned me.

For the first time that night, I shuddered.

“Four million!”

No. No, no, no!

My breath hitched as another man bid on me, his voice dripping with anticipation. I could feel his gaze crawling over my skin too.

I snapped my eyes back to the man in the shadows, totally forgetting my discomfort and what his intense gaze did to me.

He was my only chance. For no apparent reason, I saw him as the saviour. 

I didn’t know why I believed that. Maybe it was because he wasn’t like the others. Maybe it was because his stare wasn’t filled with hunger, but something else entirely.

Maybe because I had no other choice.

And I begged him.

Not with words. I couldn’t speak, but my eyes screamed for help.

Buy me. Save me.

I didn’t care about pride, dignity, or what it would mean. I just needed out.

“Four million, going once to Don Benedetti…”

Please. Please.

“Going twice…”

Tears burned my eyes. I know he could hear my silent plea. His eyes still burned into my very being. Was he going to let this happen? Was I wrong about him?

I dropped my head, the last flicker of hope dying in my chest.

“So—”

“Twenty million.”

The coldest, most lethal voice I've ever heard sliced through the room.

A collective gasp echoed. Man, everyone is as shocked as I was. 

My head snapped up.

The entire room had fallen silent, all eyes shifting toward the shadows.

Who…?

Even the men who had been laughing and leering stiffened in their seats. The tension shifted instantly. Some exchanged wary glances. Others shrank back as if something far more dangerous had just stepped into their midst. No one spoke. Not even a word.

I followed their gaze—right to him.

And then he moved.

He stepped into the dim light, revealing himself, and my breath caught in my throat.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Deadly. Untouchable. A god carved from darkness. From perfection!

And every single man in that room, even the ones who thought they held power all stood the moment his appearance became known.

He had listened. Joy bubbled inside of me.

He had decided to buy me.

No one else dared to outbid him, not even the auctioneer dared to challenge him.

  “Ye…yes Sir..”

A gavel slammed down.

“Sold to II MIETITORE.”