The Mafia King Bought Me at Auction

I flipped the turn and river cards onto the green felt.

Nine of Spades. Two of Hearts.

Dominic turned his hidden cards face up. King of Diamonds. Nine of Clubs.

A full house. Kings full of nines.

My three Kings were dead.

I stared at the board. The logs popped in the stone fireplace, sending a shower of orange sparks against the iron grate.

"The board paired," Dominic said, his voice entirely devoid of pity or triumph.

"I see it," I replied, my vocal cords tight.

"You played the odds perfectly, Elena."

"Don't patronize me."

"I am stating a fact. The math was on your side. The cards simply betrayed you."

"I lost."

"Yes. You did."

I didn't blink. I placed my palms flat on the edge of the mahogany desk and pushed myself to my feet. The leather chair groaned as I stepped back.

"The bet stands," I told him, keeping my chin level. "I won't run anymore."

"I expect nothing less."

I turned my back on the mountain of chips and walked out the door.

The shower ran on maximum heat. Thick steam clouded the massive mirror above the vanity, turning the glass into a blank gray slate.

I didn't undress. I didn't step under the water.

I sank to the floor, my spine scraping against the cold marble tiles. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Tears spilled over my eyelashes, hot and fast. I didn't sob. I didn't make a single sound. I just let the saltwater track down my cheeks and soak into the collar of my shirt.

I wasn't crying because I lost a card game. I cried because I had just handed over my last piece of leverage. The game was over. I was truly trapped, bound by a promise I couldn't break without losing the last shred of my own dignity.

The rushing water masked the sound of my lungs fighting for air.

Sunlight flooded the dining room the next morning. I sat at the long table, staring at an empty porcelain plate.

Dominic walked in, dressed in a charcoal suit. He didn't sit. He tossed two plastic rectangles onto the polished wood in front of me.

A Boston Public Library card. A green supermarket gift card.

"What is this?" I asked, picking up the library card.

"You lost the wager," Dominic stated, adjusting his silver cufflinks. "That means you stop trying to scale the garden walls. It does not mean you cease to exist."

"You're letting me leave the house?"

"With an escort. You can read. You can shop."

"Is this a joke?" I dropped the cards back onto the table. "You paid two million dollars so I could borrow books?"

"I paid to resolve a debt. What you do with your time here is up to you, provided you stay."

"There has to be a catch."

"The catch is Marco," Dominic replied smoothly. "He will stand ten feet behind you at all times."

I ran my thumb over the raised barcode on the plastic.

"You don't act like a man who buys people in basements," I said.

"How should such a man act?"

"Like a monster. Like the men at the auction. You just handed me a grocery card."

Dominic paused. He looked down at me, his dark eyes unreadable and entirely still.

"Maybe I didn't buy a person," he replied softly. "Maybe I bought an opponent for a game."

He turned and left the room before I could ask what game we were playing.

One week later, the dark blue velvet dress from the closet fit perfectly. Too perfectly.

The black Mercedes pulled up to a brick townhouse on Beacon Street. Jazz music drifted through the open double doors, spilling onto the damp pavement.

"Twenty guests," Dominic told me as we stepped onto the curb. "Stay close. Speak when spoken to."

"I remember the rules," I muttered, adjusting the heavy fabric of my skirt.

"Do not test them tonight, Elena."

We entered the foyer. Crystal sconces lined the hallway, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished hardwood.

A young woman in a silver gown approached, extending a hand to Dominic.

"Dominic, it has been too long," she smiled brightly.

"Sarah. Your father's latest merger was impressive," Dominic said, taking her hand.

Sarah beamed, then shifted her gaze to me.

Her smile vanished. Her facial muscles locked. For one agonizing second, she stared at me like I was a ghost walking out of a grave. All the color drained from her cheeks.

"I... I didn't realize you were bringing..." she stammered, taking a quick step backward.

"This is Elena," Dominic offered, his tone completely neutral.

"Right. Of course. Excuse me." Sarah spun around and hurried away, nearly tripping over her own hem.

"Who was that?" I asked, watching her disappear into the parlor.

"A business associate's daughter," Dominic answered, already moving forward.

"She looked terrified."

"She is easily startled. Come."

I grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing tray and retreated to a quiet corner near a massive bay window.

I watched Dominic work the room. He dominated the space without ever raising his voice. When an older gentleman spoke to him, Dominic leaned forward, giving the man his undivided attention. He didn't interrupt. When he placed a hand on a rival's shoulder, the grip was firm, grounding, yet entirely non-threatening.

He possessed a magnetic, terrifying gravity. I hated him, but I couldn't deny the sheer force of his presence.

"He puts on a good show, doesn't he?"

I jumped, spilling a drop of champagne onto my wrist.

A man stood beside me. He was easily six-foot-four, built like a heavyweight fighter, wearing a scuffed leather jacket that screamed rebellion in a room full of expensive tuxedos.

"Who are you?" I asked, wiping my wrist with my thumb.

"Nathan Castellano," he offered a crooked grin. "Dominic is my uncle."

I took a step back, eyeing his broad shoulders. "I didn't know he had family here."

"He prefers to keep me out of sight. I ruin the aesthetic." Nathan didn't smile this time. He scanned the room, making sure no one was watching us.

"You don't belong in a room like this," I noted.

"Neither do you, judging by the way you're hugging that wall."

"I'm here because I have to be."

Nathan stepped closer, dropping his voice to a harsh, grating whisper.

"How exactly did you get tangled up in this?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, my grip tightening on the glass stem.

"I mean him," Nathan nodded toward Dominic. "How did he find you?"

"I was at an auction."

Nathan looked at my face, searching my eyes for an answer I didn't have. He shook his head, a grim shadow crossing his features.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"You'll find out," he muttered.

He turned and vanished into the crowd, leaving me alone in the corner with a cold glass and a sudden, sharp spike of dread.