Sold To The Ruthless Mafia Boss

MY HANDS TREMBLED as I poured wine into his goblet. Achilles sat across from me, his intense eyes studying my every move. After I made up my decision, I took the courage to see him in his study to give him my answer about what he said.

“What do you need, Alana?” he asked, his voice was laced with coldness that made me shiver.

“About what you said… I'm accepting it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

“Hmm?” His voice is laced with satisfaction.

“I’ll give you what you want. I'll let you use my… b-body,” I replied, meeting his gaze with a mix of defiance and resignation. “But only if you promise-”

He cut me off with a raised hand. “No conditions, Alana. You’re mine now.” His words were both a declaration and a warning.

“B-But–”

“I don't want any word from you. I didn't give you any permission.”

I clenched my hand into fist but eventually, I nodded, swallowing my pride. What choice did I have? Achilles wasn’t a man to be denied. He ruled not just the mansion but everyone in it, including me.

“Now, strip for me, little kitten. Show me the body that I'm about to claim,” he said as he smirked dangerously.

With my trembling hands, I slowly removed my clothes revealing my body that no one has ever seen before. I saw the fire in his eyes and it was obvious that he's stopping himself to destroy me.

“Don't expect me to be gentle. Come here and kneel for me. Take out my cock and pleasure me,” he added and even if I was hesitant, I followed. I pleasured him and in return, he made me reached my peak. He was insatiable that I felt like I was passing out any moment from now when he finally filled me to the brim.

And he was right. He's not gentle at all. It was damn painful.

He claimed me. His touch was both possessive and commanding. I gave myself to him, and in doing so, I felt the invisible chains tighten around my soul.

The days that followed were suffocating. Achilles had always been dominant, but now his possessiveness knew no bounds. It was as if my submission had ignited something primal in him. He followed my every move, questioned my every word.

“Where were you?” he demanded one afternoon when I returned from the garden.

“Just tending to the flowers,” I replied, holding up the basket of herbs as proof.

“With whom?” His eyes narrowed, the vein in his temple throbbing.

“No one,” I said quickly. “I was alone.”

His gaze lingered on me, searching for any hint of deceit. Satisfied, he finally turned away. “Good. Keep it that way.”

It was a sunny morning when the incident happened. I had been walking through the courtyard, trying to escape Achilles’ suffocating attention for just a moment. That’s when I saw Marcus, one of the guards. He was kind and soft-spoken, a rare warmth in this cold, unyielding mansion.

“Good morning, Lady Alana,” Marcus greeted me with a polite bow.

“Good morning,” I replied, smiling faintly. “How are you today?”

“I’m good. And you?”

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over us. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Achilles’ presence was unmistakable, a storm that demanded attention.

“Alana,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Step away.”

I looked up at Marcus, whose face had gone pale. “Achilles—”

“Now.” The single word dripped with menace.

I obeyed, retreating a few steps. Achilles stepped forward, his towering frame looming over Marcus.

“What were you discussing with her?” Achilles demanded.

“Nothing, my lord,” Marcus stammered. “She merely greeted me.”

“Is that so?” Achilles tilted his head, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Then why do I feel the need to remind you of your place?”

“Achilles, stop,” I said, my voice trembling. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

His cold eyes flicked to me. “Stay out of this, Alana. You need to learn as well.”

Before I could protest, Achilles grabbed Marcus by the collar and dragged him to the center of the courtyard. The other guards and servants stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide with fear.

“Achilles, please!” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Don’t hurt him.”

But Achilles was unmoved. “This is what happens when someone forgets who you belong to.”

With a swift motion, he struck Marcus across the face. The sound echoed through the courtyard, a chilling reminder of Achilles’ wrath. I flinched, tears streaming down my face.

“Let this be a lesson,” Achilles declared, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “No one speaks to Alana unless I permit it. She is mine.”

That night, I couldn’t bring myself to face him. I locked myself in my room, my mind replaying the horrific scene over and over. When Achilles finally came, I braced myself for his fury.

“Alana,” he said, his voice soft but no less dangerous. “Open the door.”

“No,” I whispered, pressing my back against the wood.

He sighed, and a moment later, I heard the sound of the lock clicking open. Of course, he had a key.

He stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “You’re upset.”

“Upset?” I repeated, my voice shaking with anger. “You humiliated Marcus… hurt him… for no reason!”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Achilles replied calmly. “It was to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed, tears welling in my eyes. “You’re not protecting me. You’re controlling me!”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer. “Everything I do, Alana, is for you. Don’t you see that?”