4. THE DARK INVITATION

Chapter 4: The Dark Invitation

Stepping out of Antonio's office, my heart was beating hard. Thoughts raced through me; I was about to become the dark Lord's toy.

The corridor was dark, the shadows played tricks on my senses as I paced; my mind raced. I couldn't let this happen. I had to fight for my freedom and for the life I wanted. I contemplated fleeing, but that was near to impossible.

As I was moving, three huge men suddenly blocked my path. I wouldn't deny that I was taken aback for a minute.

Their height appeared to be the only similarity they had. The one in the middle was African American, the one at the left had a full head of blonde hair, while the one at the right had dark black hair, and he wore glasses, maybe trying to be James Bond. The mafia's James Bond.

"The Dark lord instructed us to escort you to your dressing room, where you are meant to pack your bags," said the Mafia James Bond, his voice deep, as expected from his height. It wouldn't make sense if a man as tall as him would sound like SpongeBob freaking SquarePants.

I tried to sidestep them, but they moved in unison, effectively cutting off my escape route.

"Where do you think you're going, girl?" Blondie sneered, his voice threatening.

I squared my shoulders, trying to look tough.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Get the fuck out of my way."

The African American man chuckled, stepping closer as if to intimidate me. "You don't have a choice in the matter, sweetheart. The Dark lord wants you to go pack your things now."

Fueled by anger, I raised my eyes to them. I was tired of being pushed around, tired of being treated like a pawn in their games.

"I am not some obedient pet to fetch and carry on command. You can tell your Dark lord that I refuse to be his plaything. Tell him that if he wants a pet, he can buy a fucking chihuahua."

James Bond's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. It was obvious he was their ringleader. “You should watch your mouth, girl. You're treading on thin ice."

I took a step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. “And if I don't?"

For a moment, the standoff continued, the air filled with hostility. But then the first man burst into a mocking laughter that echoed down the corridor.

"Well, well, well, it seems like we've got a feisty one here."

Blondie joined in chuckling. "I kinda like her spirit."

James Bond didn't reply, he just swirled me around and pushed me. “Move!" He roared out.

I fell, but then he gently kicked me. Having no choice, I stood up and started walking. Fighting with them looked futile now.

James Bond pushed me, maybe wanting me to move faster, but instead I turned back to face him, trying to gain control of the situation.

"If I am your Dark lord's thing, don't you think he'll flip a switch when he finds out you're manhandling his thing?"

When I saw that I had their attention, I continued.

"If you want me to go along with whatever plans you have, then at least have the decency to treat me with respect."

Finally, one of the black American men grunted and stepped back, a reluctant nod of acknowledgement.

"We're just following orders," he muttered, his tone begrudgingly conceding my point.

I held their gazes for a moment longer, a silent victory in my stance. Blondie cleared his throat and looked away, his discomfort evident.

"Fine. We'll escort you to your room without any more... roughness."

When I finally reached my dressing room, the black American man opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

I had gotten used to this small room I had stayed in for the past fifteen years. It couldn't even fit in the three of us comfortably. It was small, yellow, and crampy, but it was still home.

"You have five minutes to pack your belongings," James Bond stated, his voice devoid of any sympathy. It was a cold reminder of the new reality I was facing.

I moved around the room, my hands trembling slightly as I collected my few possessions.

Fifteen years of memories in this place, and now it all had to fit into a bag. As I folded my clothes and gathered my personal items, I couldn't shake the feeling of loss that washed over me.

Time seemed to slip away too quickly, and before I knew it, I was done. It was actually quite sad that everything I had acquired for a period of fifteen years could fit in a backpack and still had space for more.

"Ready," I said, my voice steady.

The African American man nodded, and they led me out of the room. As we walked back down the corridor, I looked at my room for the last time, knowing I'd never set my feet there again.

***

As I stepped out of the building, a sleek black vehicle stood before me. The driver stood by the door, expressionless, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

At that moment, it dawned on me that I was really leaving the cellar door. I always thought I would leave with my freedom, but I was going into another cage.

The three men flanked me, their presence a looming reminder of my lack of control. The path to the black car was looming with uncertainty, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was walking into hell itself.

So I took a deep breath, summoning whatever strength I could find within me, and moved towards the car.

James Bond placed a hand on my shoulder, guiding me with a firm grip, and I had to shoot him a look that I hoped would make him notice I didn't like the touch.

The car door swung open, revealing the interior. My heart raced as I hesitated for a moment before sliding onto the plush leather seat.

The black, cold leather sent a shiver through me, a stark contrast to the heat of the day. The car smelled of rich leather and everything rich.

The two men settled in after me, their imposing presence making the small space feel even more confined. The door closed with a soft thud, enclosing us in a cocoon of silence. I thought it was the Dark lord's private car, but I was kind of relieved he wasn't in the car.

The engine hummed, and the car began to move forward. I gazed out the window, watching the cityscape blur past. The buildings seemed to lean in, as if whispering secrets I couldn't quite grasp.

With each passing mile, I felt a growing sense of unease. The car seemed to swallow me whole, the darkness outside mirroring the uncertainty within.

I was just a captive audience, hurtling toward an unknown destination. I didn't know what to expect; of course I would never give in to the supposed Dark lord; he can suck his dick for all I care.

As the car continued its journey, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the point of no return. My heart kept beating, and my palms were very sweaty. I was nervous, scared even. But I showed no sign of it.

Finally, the car came to a stop, and a heavy silence hung in the air as the engine's rumble subsided. The door opened, and the men came out.

As I peered out of the door, letting my eyes travel around in what seems to be an airport's runway. That was when I saw him—the Dark lord approaching, heavily guarded by men that were bigger than the three men who escorted me.

He didn't smile, and with a single cough, his bodyguard shifted, leaving him in all his glory, and he quietly entered the car.

His presence cast a shadow over the interior of the car, and my heart raced as he approached my seat. I didn't know why my heart began beating fast.

His gaze held a mixture of curiosity and obvious want—something that made my stomach churn with unease. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every detail, as if assessing his newly acquired possession.

"Welcome," he said, his voice low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I trust the journey was to your satisfaction."

I fought to keep my voice steady, to not let him see how much his presence unnerved me.

"It was a car ride," I replied, my words slipped, my gaze focused on the ground at my feet.

He chuckled softly, a sound that held a hint of amusement. “Direct and unyielding. I appreciate that."

I risked a glance up at him, his dark eyes boring into mine. There was a predatory glint in his gaze—like hunger. I shifted slightly to create a little distance between us.

It seemed that he found my reaction amusing because his lips curled into what looked like a smile.

"You're not the first to be apprehensive in my presence. But I assure you, Laura, I have no intention of harming you."

I scoffed, unable to contain my skepticism.

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe considering you bought me."

"It may be hard to believe, Laura, but you're the first woman who has managed to fully captivate me." He said as he leaned in.

"So that's why you saw it fit to make me your captive." My eyes bore into his; if looks could kill, Matteo would be long dead.

"I bought you; I didn't kidnap you." He said it as if it were way too normal to buy a fully grown human being.

"First of many?" I asked, with sarcasm evident in my voice.

He leaned in even closer that his nose was a few inches away from mine. "You're a woman of resilience," he said, his tone almost approving.

"I respect that."

Conflicting emotions swirled within me, leaving me speechless. This man was an enigma, a puzzle I couldn't decipher. His reputation painted him as ruthless and dangerous, yet here he was, speaking to me with a measure of respect. But yet I couldn't shake the feeling off that he had just bought me!

He got out of the car, and when he came to my side of the vehicle, he opened the door and extended his hand towards me, a silent invitation.

"Shall we, Laura?"

I hesitated for a moment, nervous, scared, but also curious. Without further thoughts, I tentatively placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch against my palm and following his strides as he led me away from the car and into the unknown.

"Not like I have a choice," I replied, unable to shake the feeling that my life had irrevocably changed.