All Chapters of Sold To The Mafia Boss: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

ELEANOR The room was still full of chattering when Mr. Paulo dragged me backstage to get prepared to be handed over to my new owner, I could see how eager he was to get the deal closed and sell me off. After all, the more the price we were bought for, the more money he made. Paulo was an unbelievably greedy fat man who only cared about how much got into his pocket. "Pack up your stuff quickly while I go get the papers for you to sign. You had better be done before I got back!" He said as he left me in the dressing room. I could overhear as the rest of the auction went on while in the dressing room but all my thoughts were clouded with was what I had coming ahead of me. Who was this Armando that sent the whole room into oblivion through the sound of his voice? "There's our lucky girl! I heard you were bought for a huge sum" Camilla, one of the oldest ladies in the trade said immediately she stepped in with a few others just like her. "And for a whooping fifty million infact!"

ELEANOR The drive to Mr. Armando's mansion was unnervingly quiet. The chauffeur didn’t say a word, and neither did Armando’s personal guard, the same one who’d practically dragged me to the car earlier. He sat in the front seat, eyes fixed forward, barely moving except for the occasional glance in the rearview mirror. I kept my distance from Armando, though the backseat wasn’t exactly large enough to offer much space. Every inch between us felt like it might disappear any moment, and I did everything I could to shrink into the corner. He didn’t even look at me, but that didn’t bring any comfort. His silence was heavier than anything he could have said. We finally pulled up to the mansion, and my breath caught in my throat. The building was massive, far more than I could have ever imagined. It looked like something out of a magazine—a sprawling estate with towering gates, pristine landscaping, and large, expensive-looking windows. Marble statues decorated the lawn, and the driveway

ARMANDO The music in the club was deafening; a mix of heavy bass and fast beats that rattled through the VIP section. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.Neon lights flashed over the room, painting everything in shades of pink, purple, and blue while girls in tiny bikinis moved through the space, dancing on platforms and flaunting their bodies like they were on display. It was all a blur—girls grinding against poles, hands grabbing at cash, the sound of laughter mixed with the music. None of it could drown out the storm of thoughts in my head.I sat in the corner of the VIP section, a glass of whiskey in my hand. The booth was plush, expensive, and isolated from the chaos of the main floor. Matteo was beside me, completely in his element. Two girls were draped over him, their barely-covered bodies pressed against him as they giggled and whispered things I didn't bother to catch. He had one hand wrapped around a glass, the other resting on the ass of one

ELEANOR I was jolted awake by a knock. It was still dark outside, the room heavy with silence except for the persistent rapping on the door. Groaning, I turned over, pulling the pillow over my head. Maybe if I ignored it long enough, whoever it was would go away. But the knocking continued, steady and unrelenting. I blinked at the time on the bedside clock—who could it be by 4 a.m?I sat up, my mind immediately going to Armando. But no… it couldn’t be him. He’d made it clear last night that knocking wasn’t something he did—especially not in his own house. Sighing heavily, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the door, hoping this wasn’t some twisted game he was playing. I opened it to find one of the housemaids standing there, her head bowed slightly in a polite greeting.“Good morning, Miss Eleanor,” she said, her voice soft but formal. She held up a neatly folded maid uniform with both hands, offering it to me like it was some kind of gift. “Mr. Armando instructed me to bri

ELEANOR I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. How in the world did Armando expect me to clean this entire mansion all by myself? The place was massive—rooms upon rooms, endless hallways, marble floors that stretched on for what felt like miles. It was a task meant for a full team of maids, not just one person. Yet, here I was, stuck in this nightmare with no way out.I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. What did I do to make him so angry? Was it the food? No, it couldn’t have been. I made sure to check the seasoning—twice, even. There was no way it was too salty or bland. But then, why was he so furious? The way he erupted at the dining table, the way he threw the tray to the floor, it was like I had committed some unspeakable crime. None of it made any sense.My thoughts drifted to the possibility of running away. But where would I go? How f