Sold to Moretti Mafia

Julian

At my words, she goes completely silent. I didn’t even mean to say it. My confession just slipped out. That doesn’t take away the honesty of my words, though.

Pushing up and off her body, I move to sit on the edge of the bed. My cock is still hard, sliding out of her tight little asshole. She doesn’t move as I get up and start undoing her handcuffs. Free, she continues to lie on her stomach even as I go into the bathroom and retrieve a washcloth to clean her up.

She whimpers as I move the warm cloth between her legs but doesn’t say anything. When she is clean, I roll her over onto her back, so I can look at her face. Her eyes collide with mine, and I see the whirlwind of emotions reflecting back at me. Inside her depths, I could drown a thousand times over. She wears her emotions like a sweater for the world to see.

Confusion, apprehension, fear. She is digesting what I told her. Trying to wrap her mind around her father killing someone I loved.

“He killed your family?” she finally asks.

“He killed my mother… and the baby she was carrying.”

Her big blues go wide and tears well over, cascading down the sides of her cheeks. I watch the droplets, hating that she is crying for me.

“I can’t imagine him doing something like that.”

Anger rears its ugly head. “I can assure you, he did. He killed her. He even admitted to it.” I’m trying my best not to be enraged over the fact that she is defending her father, but it’s hard, so hard, especially after the way he ran when she fell, if he was half the man she thinks he is, he would’ve come to her rescue. “He’s not a good man, Elena,” I add.

“Neither are you,” she rebuts, and I can’t argue with that.

“I know I’m not. I’ve never claimed to be either. Still, there are lines even I won’t cross. I would never kill a pregnant woman. There is no point in arguing about this. Your father will die, whether you like it or not, and I’ll be the one to end him.”

Anguish washes over her face. “Maybe it’s a mistake? Or maybe it was an accident?”

“It wasn’t. Your father is not the man you think he is. You know he told everyone your mother died in a car crash? He’s a liar and a murderer. And don’t forget that he sold you to me, a man that he knows hates him.”

“Yes, and you bought me! Let’s not forget that, either. You bought me like an item on the shelf in the store. Then you locked me in this room and chained me to your bed! You kill people, you lie, and steal. You’re just as much of a criminal as he is.”

Every muscle in my body quakes, I’m so fucking angry. Angry with her for taking his side. Angry with her father for killing my mother. And angry with myself for letting all of this happen. Unfortunately for Elena, she is the only one here to direct my anger at.

“You can say just about anything you fucking want to me, but do not fucking compare me to him! I’m nothing like your father,” I say through clenched teeth. My hands are balled up into fists so tight, my nails dig into my palms painfully to ebb some of the rage away.

Her beautiful face goes ghostly pale, and her mouth pops open like she is about to say something, but no sound comes out. There is nothing for her to say, and even if there was, I’m past the point of reasoning.

“I don’t care what you say. I will kill your piece of shit, father. I will marry you, and you will be mine. You will obey me and do as I say, or I will chain you to the bed for the rest of your fucking life. Don’t tempt me, Elena. If you want to see how big of a monster I can be, then just try and stop me.”

Grabbing my pants off the floor, I slip into them and storm out of the room, slamming the door with a ferociousness that makes the walls shake. My fingers shake, and rage boils over as I slide the lock into place and walk down the hall and away from her. I need a breather to get away before I do something I can’t take back.

* * *

After pounding my fists against the punching bag in the gym for an hour and taking a cold shower in the guest room, I feel somewhat composed.

I was harsh with Elena earlier, maybe too harsh, but I needed her to see her father for who he truly was. I need her to accept that I will be the one to end her father’s life, and I refuse to feel bad about that. She should hate him for leaving her lying limp against the floor at the bottom of the stairs, for selling her to me, but it seems she is far more loyal than I ever expected her to be.

In time, she will understand.

Before I go back to the room, I stop at my office and call Father Petro. It’s late, and I know my call might wake him, but I don’t have the patience to wait until tomorrow morning to call and discuss our union of marriage.

“Hello?” he answers after it rings for what seems like a long time.

“Father Petro, this is Julian Moretti. I apologize for the late-night call, but I need you to come to my estate tomorrow morning. The wedding you were to perform three weeks ago is going to be taking place. It can’t wait any longer.”

“I understand,” he murmurs, and I can almost see him nodding his head through the phone. “I’ll be there at nine in the morning, is that good?”

“Perfect. Have a good night, Father.” Ending the call, I feel a little bit lighter than before. Scribbling on a sticky note, I head back down the stairs and stop in the kitchen and leave a note for Celeste and Marie to be prepared for a ceremony on the terrace right before breakfast. I already informed Lucca about the changes, which means everything is set in place.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow Elena will become my wife.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

She’ll be bound to me until death, bound by an unbreakable vow.

I hold onto that thought, letting it calm me when I enter our bedroom a short while later. Elena lies on the bed, the lamp on the nightstand on. The soft glow illuminates the entire room. My eyes move without will to her form, which is wrapped in a blanket.

The washcloth and handcuffs are on the floor next to the bed, a reminder of what I did to her earlier-my cock twitches in my shorts at the memory. I didn’t expect her to come from anal, especially since it was her first time, but fuck me if it wasn’t the hottest damn thing. It’s nothing more but another reminder of how perfect she is.

No other woman will ever be able to compete with her, which is why she will be mine. Forever. Starting tomorrow.

“I know you’re not asleep,” I say as I strip out of my shorts and T-shirt.

“I never said I was,” she snaps without looking up at me. “What else am I supposed to do besides lie in bed if you lock me in the room?”

Smirking at her response, I slip into the bed beside her. Her body stiffens as I pull her into my chest. She actually tries to push me away, but that only makes me hold her tighter. Burying my face in her hair, I breathe deeply, letting her succulent scent ease the rolling hills of anger away. Every time I see her, I think of her father, and I’m reminded that he is out there still living, breathing, and that I have failed to make good on my honor to my mother.

“We’re getting married tomorrow, in the morning,” I whisper into her ear.

“What? Tomorrow?” She squeaks.

“Yes. You’re gonna wake up in the morning, put on your wedding dress, and walk your sweet –not so virgin ass– downstairs and become my wife.”

“Is my father going to come?”

“No. No, guests will be here. It will be just us.”

There is a long moment of silence, and I’m almost sad that there isn’t another fight. The idea of subduing her with sex again makes my cock harden once more.

“Why did you even want to marry me if my father really did kill your mother?” Her question makes everything evaporate, and all over again, I’m on edge. It’s too close to the truth. I don’t want her to find out, not yet.

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you at your mother’s funeral.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’m his daughter?”

“No, I don’t care where you came from. I only care that you are with me now. You’re a Moretti now, my wife, my queen, the woman who will carry and birth our heirs.”

Another moment of silence stretches on before she interrupts the silence with another question.

“Are you still planning on killing my father when you find him?”

“Yes.”

“How can you expect me to say my vows if I know this? If I know the man that will be my husband, plans to kill my father?”

“I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it, nevertheless. Two things have never been truer. You will become my wife tomorrow morning, and your father will die at my hands. When? I don’t know, but it will happen, and if you do anything to try and stop me…” I don’t have to threaten her further. She knows what will happen if she doesn’t do what I want. I wish I didn’t have to force her hand. I wish she would simply say her vows because she wants to.

The only thought that eases my mind is knowing that one day, she will cherish our vows. She will understand eventually that this is the right thing to do.

She will see that I was only doing this for us, for her.

Her father doesn’t love her. If he did, he wouldn’t have given her to me.