Sold to Moretti Mafia

Elena

As soon as the last bit leaves my mouth, I regret saying it. Not because it’s not true, but because I don’t want to provoke Julian.

His crystal blues become stormy, and my eyes move to his hands that curl into tight fists. Sometimes things seem so perfect, and I think maybe I can reach him, and then he says or does something, and I’m back to being hopeless.

“Have I not proven to you that I can be kind? That I’ll take care of you? That you can trust me? Have I lied to you? Hurt you?”

“No…” My shoulders sag down, and I turn my head away, unable to look at him longer. No, he hasn’t physically hurt me, and he has shown me kindness in his own way, but I can’t help but expect more. Maybe that’s my problem. I shouldn’t expect more from a man who bought me.

Everything he does is to ensure that I behave, and now he is using Marie as extra insurance. I don’t like it, not at all, holding another person’s life in my hands, but what option do I have? Either way, Marie ends up hurt, and I could never sleep at night knowing that I cost someone else their life.

“I already told you. It’s not always going to be like this. You won’t always be locked in this room, but I need to know that I can trust you, and this event is going to be the perfect way for you to gain that trust.”Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“I understand, but I’ve been here for weeks. I haven’t tried to escape… I’ve listened.” Reasoning with Julian is like trying to reason with a bull. It’s pointless, and you’ll probably end up dead before you get anywhere.

Julian’s gaze softens at my words.

“Do this for me, okay? Behave, don’t fight, and I will give you freedom.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice dripping with defeat.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, very. It’s late.” I get up from the bed and grab his hand naturally. I know he only holds my hand when we walk through the house, so I won’t run away. He likes me to be anchored to him. So he can control me, but today I’m imagining that he is just holding it because he wants to. It’s the one thing that makes me feel like I’m not just his prisoner.

He leads me through the house and into the dining room. It’s already dark outside, and probably cold with the sundown. So, I’m not surprised we are staying inside.

The table is set as always with the dishes covered and ready for us to dive into. He pulls a chair out for me, and I take my seat while he takes the one beside me. As always, he serves the food, which is grilled salmon and a variety of vegetables tonight.

Setting my plate down in front of me, he asks, “Would you like some wine?”

“I’m not old enough,” I respond.

He laughs and cocks a brow. “You’re old enough to marry but not have a glass of wine?”

Deciding to jump out of my comfort zone, I grab the wine glass in front of me and hand it to him. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I’m pretty sure I like that look more than I like any other he’s ever given me.

Popping the cork on the bottle of wine, he pours the smooth red liquid into the wine glass, filling it about halfway before passing it back to me.

Bringing my lips to the rim, I take a small sip, wrinkling my nose at the fruity scent that invades my nostrils. There is a bitter tanginess left in my mouth after I swallow, and I shiver, unsure if I like it or not.

“It takes time to develop a taste for wine,” Julian simply says, stabbing a piece of vegetable with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. He eats as viciously as I suppose he kills, and that’s not the image I need to be conjuring up in my mind right now.

“It’s not bad, but it’s different,” I say while staring at the red liquid. “I’m not sure if I like it yet or not.”

“Drink some more, I’m sure it will grow on you.”

Nodding, I drink a little more in between bites of food. With each sip I take, my cheeks grow warmer. In fact, my entire body feels warm, like I’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket.

Soon the glass is empty, and I look to Julian to see if I may have another.

“I thought you didn’t like it?” he teases, and this is the side of him I like most. The side where he shows me glimpses of who he is beneath all the layers of death and vengeance. It’s because of this that I can’t give up on him.

“I changed my mind.” I giggle, the wine helping to ease the tension right out of me.

“Fine, another half glass, and that’s it. We have a long day tomorrow, and believe me, you don’t want to be hungover on wine.”

Smiling big, I hand him my glass and watch as he fills it. I can feel his eyes on me, drinking me in, and I’m curious to know what he is thinking.

I savor that final glass, loving the way it makes me feel… free, like a butterfly.

As I down the rest of the glass, I push abruptly from the table to stand, forgetting that I’ve never drunk a day in my life before. The world shifts on its axis, and my knees knock together. Grabbing onto the edge of the table, I try to steady myself but am thankful when Julian swoops in, wrapping a protective arm around my waist.

Standing face to face, chest to chest, I crane my neck back to look up at him. I can feel the heat of his body rolling off of him. His eyes are blazing, his cheeks high, and his jaw so sharp you could cut with it. His nose has a slight angle to it, making him perfectly imperfect. My eyes move to his lips, they’re full, and I lick my own lips, this strange need to kiss him overtaking me.

Placing my hands on his biceps, he gives me a confused look, and I take that single moment to push up onto my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.

I’ve never kissed before, and under normal circumstances wouldn’t even consider stepping out of line like this, but the wine gives me newfound courage.

A zap of electricity ripples through me, and I squeeze onto his arms, pressing my lips a little more firmly against his. His own lips move against mine, molding to me. I feel so much in that single stroke of his lips, need, possession, and power. I feel like I’m his equal, not a piece on a chessboard.

Then, as if he can sense a change in me, in himself, he pulls away, removing his arm from my waist, and instead, holding me at arm’s length.

His eyes become thunderous, and I shiver under their scrutiny. “What kind of game are you playing?”

My lips tremble, aftershocks of the kiss still working their way through me.

“I’m not playing a game,” I croak, though for once, I’m not afraid of him. I feel safe in his arms even when I know I shouldn’t, even when I’m certain he’s going to lead me straight to the slaughterhouse when this is all over. “I just wanted to kiss you…”

Julian shakes his head, his features twist into a peculiar expression. He looks younger now, vulnerable, and I want to etch this moment deep into my mind.

“I don’t kiss,” he replies softly.

“You just did,” I whisper back.

His penetrating gaze roams my face, looking for something I’m not sure of. “You’re ruining everything, and you don’t even know it.”

I’m not sure what that means, and I don’t care to figure it out. Julian kissed me, and that’s a score in my book.