The Bargained-Away Virgin: A Flower for the Don

Juliette's POV:

My eyes went to the window, and I rushed toward it before Gaspar could break through the door. I didn't care where I ended up. I only needed to find somewhere fate wouldn't be as cruel as my stepfather or Don Vito Lucchese.

I managed to climb out the window barefoot and dressed in torn clothes just as Gaspar started forcing the bathroom door open.

I kept running. How long I ran, I couldn't tell, but fear pushed me forward. The cold air struck my skin, yet it felt weaker than the thought of my stepfather hurting me and then handing me over to the Don.

Around a corner, I stumbled over the uneven sidewalk and tried to hide myself in the dark. The village looked dim and empty, and its winding paths felt like a maze meant to trap me.

Then a bright headlight suddenly shone over me.

Almost at the same time, four shadows stepped into view. The moment I recognized two of Don Vito's men, I turned to run the other way, but they moved too fast.

One of them blocked me without effort. His hand closed around my arm, and pain shot straight through the bone.

"Stop, girl," he said quietly.

Gaspar's cruelty was messy and driven by alcohol, but these men were different. They were calm, careful, and used to violence.

"Good riddance, you little pest!" my drunken stepfather sneered.

"Bastard!" I spat at Gaspar in Italian, refusing to lower my head. "Go to hell!"

They shoved me into the car the same way they had when I tried to steal medicine from the pharmacy. I fell onto the leather seat, trapped between two henchmen I already recognized. This time, Don Vito wasn't there to stop them from hurting me.

"Welcome, girl!" the shorter one said as his fingers brushed my face.

"Miguel, touch her again, and I'll burn your fingers," replied the older man as he glanced through the rearview mirror.

"Come on, Gianni, let us have a little fun with her," the taller one said, reaching toward me.

I folded my arms over myself and pulled the fabric closer to cover my chest. Before the man could touch me, the car stopped hard. Gianni turned around and punched the larger man twice.

"Relax. Ricardo was only joking," Miguel said, trying to speak up for his companion.

Once Gianni cooled off, he stepped out of the car, pulled Ricardo outside, and threw him onto the middle of the road. After that, he got back into the vehicle and dropped into the driver's seat.

"Keep your hands off the girl!" Gianni shouted at the man sitting beside me.

The car quickly pulled away. Through the window, I watched the village fade from sight. One prison was behind me, but another one waited ahead, far more powerful than the last.

Eventually, we arrived at an underground garage.

They ordered me out of the car. Gianni took hold of my arm and led me toward an elevator surrounded by mirrors. My reflection stared back at me. Torn clothes. Red, tired eyes.

When the elevator doors slid open, Gianni guided me through a quiet hallway. Huge windows lined the corridor, giving a wide view of the city below.

We kept walking until he opened a door and revealed an enormous room.

The first thing I noticed was the figure standing near the window. His broad shoulders stood out beneath a black silk shirt.

"The girl you requested is here, sir," Gianni remarked.

Vito didn't turn immediately. He spent another moment looking out at the city as if he were finishing some private business with it. Only then did he slowly turn his head.

Even with the scar on his face, there was something striking about him. My eyes dropped lower, and I noticed that his sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms that I hadn't seen before.

His gray eyes seemed to pull in the dim light around them. They moved over me from head to toe, taking in my torn blouse, the dirt on my clothes, and my bare feet. He was examining me the same way someone would inspect merchandise.

The blank look in his eyes disappeared for a moment. He narrowed them slightly before giving a nod. Gianni took the hint and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Come here, piccina," Don Vito Lucchese said.

"No!"

He straightened up and walked toward me.

"From this moment on, you follow my rules. And the first one is obedience."

"Rules?" Fear mixed with anger inside me. "I never agreed to anything with you. A drunk sold me like I was an object. You don't have any rights over me."

"Your father owed me."

"I don't belong to you!" I shouted in French.

He moved closer to me. Instantly, I backed away and prepared myself for a slap, a scream, or the kind of uncontrolled rage I knew too well. Every muscle in my body tightened.

"You belong to me now," Vito replied. A slight curve touched his lips as he answered in French.

"You're no different from Gaspar. You're a monster too!" I yelled. The words came from a reckless burst of courage that rose from the fear and pain I carried.

"You have no idea how much worse I am," he said as he closed the distance between us.

Slowly, he raised a hand. Without thinking, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the hit to come. My entire body braced itself for the pain I had learned to expect.

Instead, his touch was surprisingly gentle. His fingers settled beneath my chin and slowly lifted my face. His hand felt cold and rough against my skin. A tremor ran through my body, and I couldn't stop shaking.

"Open your eyes, ragazza," he said in a firm, commanding voice.

______________________

Don Vito Lucchese's POV:

"Oh my God!"

Fear filled her beautiful face, and a large bruise stood out against her skin. The moment I noticed the injury on her shoulder, I let go of her chin. Without my hand supporting her, she nearly lost her balance.

"Gianni!" I called to the man waiting outside the room.

"Yes, boss," he replied as he immediately stepped inside.

"Who did this to her face and shoulder?" I asked, pointing at the girl.

"She already had those bruises when I found her out on the street."

"Was your father responsible for this?" I asked her again.

"Gaspar is my stepfather."

"That doesn't matter," I said as my fist slammed against the table. My patience was running out. "Was he the one who did this?"

The girl didn't answer, but the tears running down her cheeks gave me all the answers I needed.

"Bring Gaspar to me," I instructed. "I want him alive."

"Yes, boss!" Gianni left at once to carry out my orders.

The room was filled with expensive decorations, yet none of them drew attention the way the small French girl did. She stood there with her arms crossed, trying to hide her black bra.

"Don't make the mistake of defying me again, girl." While speaking, I headed toward the door. "Dinner will be brought here. Eat something and get some rest."

After leaving the room, I shut the door behind me. My hand clenched into a fist so tightly that it began to go numb.

"What if this girl isn't really a virgin?" The thought suddenly entered my mind. "What if Gaspar already..." The idea stopped the moment I glanced back toward the French girl. She was injured. She was beautiful. And she had nobody looking out for her. "And if..."

No. Gaspar knew exactly what would happen if he lied to me. I would've hunted him down and destroyed him no matter where he ran.