The chandelier above glinted like a noose of diamonds, casting cold shadows on the crowd below. Men in suits whispered behind champagne flutes. Women dripped in gold, laughing too loud. But Damian Moretti wasn't here for idle chatter.
He was here for vengeance.
Standing in the back of the lavish auction hall, his dark eyes locked onto his prize—Celeste Carter.
She didn't belong here. That was obvious.
In a room of sin and silk, she looked like an angel dropped into hell. Wrapped in a simple ivory dress, her soft brown curls framed wide, frightened eyes that scanned the room. She looked too young, too innocent, too… untouched.
Just like her father promised.
Damian's jaw tightened.
Senator Carter had made too many enemies. And now, his daughter was payment.
As the auctioneer's voice droned on, calling out opening bids like it was a game, Celeste stood frozen on stage—barely breathing, clearly unaware of the true danger she was in.
"Five million," Damian said, voice low and smooth like poisoned velvet.
Heads turned.
The crowd silenced.
No one outbid him. No one dared.
The gavel hit wood.
"Sold."
Celeste flinched.
Damian stepped forward as the room parted like the Red Sea. His steps were slow, deliberate. She met his gaze, trying to be brave.
He smirked.
Bravery wouldn't save her. Not from him.
And yet… something flickered in her eyes. Not just fear.
Curiosity.
He reached the stage, and for a heartbeat, their worlds collided.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
He leaned in, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his voice a dark promise.
"Your new reality, Dolcezza "
Celeste's skin prickled at the sound of his voice—deep, accented, and dripping with something dark. Her instinct screamed to run, but her feet wouldn't move. His hand brushed her lower back, firm and possessive, guiding her down the steps as if he already owned her.
Because now, he did.
Her heart hammered in her chest as they exited the hall, the click of his shoes against marble echoing like a countdown. She tried to slow her steps, to stall, but his grip tightened slightly. Not hurting her—yet—but reminding her that resistance was pointless.
Outside, a sleek black car waited, doors already open. Damian opened the passenger door without a word. Celeste hesitated.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, voice wavering.
His eyes flicked to hers, cool and unreadable. "Home."
She didn't move.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You'd rather stay here, with men who were planning to buy you for one night?"
Her stomach churned.
"I didn't know… what this was," she whispered.
Damian tilted his head slightly. "You do now."
Celeste climbed into the car, pulse thudding like thunder. Damian followed, the door clicking shut with an eerie finality. Inside, the air was thick with tension. The city lights bled past the tinted windows as the car sped off, but all Celeste could feel was the man beside her.
She dared to glance at him. His suit fit him like it was made just for him—tailored to power. The sharp line of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes, the faint scar above his brow… everything about him was lethal.
"You're scared," he said suddenly, not even looking at her.
She swallowed. "Should I be?"
A smirk played on his lips. "Terrified."
Celeste turned toward the window, fighting the tears that stung her eyes. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not when he clearly wanted her to.
"I'm not some toy," she murmured. "You can't just buy me and—"
"I didn't buy you, cara," he cut in. "I claimed what was owed."
She stared at him.
"My father owed you… me?"
Damian nodded once. "A deal's a deal. And your father? He was desperate. He offered you before I even asked."
Celeste felt like she'd been punched.
Her own father gave her away like property?
"You're lying."
He finally looked at her. Really looked. "I don't lie, Celeste. I don't need to."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and unbearable. But behind the fear, a spark of anger lit in her chest. She didn't know who this man was—what world he came from—but she refused to be broken.
"You may have bought a body," she said quietly, "but you'll never own me."
Damian chuckled, low and dark. "We'll see about that."
The car slowed as they pulled into a private gate. Beyond it stood a towering villa carved in stone and shadow. The gates closed behind them like prison bars.
As Damian stepped out and opened her door, Celeste knew one thing:
She was no longer free.
But she would survive this.