AUCTIONED TO HER DAD’S MAFIA ENEMIES: A MAFIA AGE-GAP REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (AUCTIONED SERIES Book 4)

THE PRICE OF REVENGE

The city penthouse apartment is dimly lit, the amber glow from the liquor cabinet casting long shadows across the sleek leather furniture. Luca stands by the window with his hands clasped behind his back as he stares over the city. The balcony door is open, and the faint tang of smoke, car exhaust, and the distant blooms from rooftop gardens scents the air. The skyline sprawls before him, stars blinking in the darkness like diamonds spilled over black velvet. He’s lost in thought, and I understand why.

Antonio sits in the corner of the couch, a glass of whiskey dangling between his fingers, his expression thoughtful. “She just fell into our laps,” he mutters, breaking the silence. “Like a lamb to the slaughter.”

Luca finally turns, determination making his jaw tight. “This isn’t luck. It’s fate.”

I pace the length of the room, fire already burning in my chest at the thought of Carlo’s daughter. Her traditorefather’s betrayal burns my soul. “So we use her. We drag her father out of hiding and make him answer for what he did to Mario.” My voice is rough-edged with anger that never fades.

Antonio swirls his drink, watching the liquid catch the light. “Mario’s in the ground, and that bastard has been walking free for too long.”

“We searched under every stone, every rotten piece of wood for that cock sucker,” I remind him. “He became air. His family, too.”

Luca exhales slowly, controlled. “Not anymore.”

The weight of Mario’s death sits heavy between us. No blood has been spilled to avenge him. But now? Now we have our bait.

A sharp knock on the door breaks the moment.

Vito, one of Antonio’s soldiers, steps inside, his face grim, eyes flicking to Luca before settling on Antonio. “Boss, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Luca straightens, and Antonio sets his drink aside. “Spit it out.”

“One of my informants on the southside called something in. Something I thought you’d want to know.” He waits for Antonio’s nod to continue. “There’s an auction tonight. Girls. The usual, except tonight, they have something special on the menu.”

My blood cools. Antonio sits forward, his expression blank. Luca doesn’t move, but the air shifts, heavy with menace.

“Who?” Luca demands, voice lethal.

The soldier swallows hard. “Aemelia Lambretti. From what I heard, Carmine Nero’s out of pocket to her father. He’s looking to close the debt, and she’ll fetch a good price. She’s a bonafide virgin, confirmed by some doctor in Carmine’s pocket.” He lets the information hang for dramatic effect. Vito always loves a little theatre. “Plenty of men who’d like to work out their frustrations against Carlo on his pretty daughter’s unsullied body.”

Silence. A heartbeat, then another. In my veins, my blood is lava, my fury explosive, but I hold myself tight because that’s what’s expected.

Antonio stands slowly, his body stiff, but his movements are controlled. He lifts one arm to sweep Vito out the door. In the hallway, they discuss further in hushed tones before he returns. My eyes are on Luca, not because I think he will explode. He rarely shows any kind of reaction, so searching for tiny flickers in his expression is the only way I can gauge what he’s thinking.

Antonio lingers by the door. “I know when and where.”

Tension vibrates through the open plan space. The ceilings in this place are too high, and the furniture too low. It always makes me feel uncomfortable as if there’s not enough gravity. I flex my fingers, rolling my neck. “Looks like this might cost us more than we thought.”

“It’ll be worth it.” Luca nods and turns back to the sky.

***

The scent of cheap cologne and sweat fills the warehouse packed with men, predators circling for fresh meat. This isn’t our business. Our father forbade the Venturi name to be linked to prostitution. Three generations back, an ancestor fell on hard times. Her pain and redemption continue to shape our business. In all honesty, I’m grateful for it. I don’t have the stomach for the sad faces and the broken dreams.

I can barely hear myself think over the dull roar of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter, which overlays the whimpering and weeping of the girls on stage.

Luca stands to my left, rigid as a steel blade, his cool gaze sweeping over the scene. To my right, Antonio wears his cold, deadly expression like a mask, but I know him well enough to see beyond. His fingers flex at his sides, betraying the storm brewing beneath.

Then, the bastard hosting this auction calls the next lot, and the air changes. If the previous lots were fast food, Aemelia Lambretti, the untouched mafia princess fallen to the gutter, is wagyu beef. And these men are famished.

The moment her name is spoken, a hush falls over the room. My pulse slams into my ribs as a spotlight slices through the gloom, illuminating the stage. And there she is, nothing like the girl we reunited with at Rosita’s wedding. This Aemelia is a fragile, trembling thing, shackled at the wrists and barely clothed in a white lace nightgown. Her porcelain skin glows under the harsh light, and her hair, dark as spilled ink, cascades in waves down her back. Her eyes dart around, wide and fearful, blinking against the bright lights, and still, she forces her chin high.

Antonio is motionless beside me, and Luca clenches his fists so tight that the leather of his gloves groans.

This is the daughter of the man who cost us more than a brother. Mario was the heart of our family—the head. We are but lesser imitations of the man he was, and nothing has been the same since he was killed. The rage that coils in my gut is instant, searing. Not because I want to save her. Not because I give a damn about the tremor in her hands or the silent plea in her gaze. No, my fury is for the men in this room who think they can take what should belong to us.

Nero wants his money, but we crave more. Blood. Pain. Revenge. Satisfaction.

Aemelia Lambretti is ours, whether she likes it or not.

We could take her from this place with violence, but it’s not worth starting a war. Nero will pay for the money he takes from us through this auction. Luca will make sure of it.

The bidding begins, and the first number thrown out is pathetic. Insulting. Some stronzoin the front row leans forward, his watery eyes gleaming as he ups the bid. Another man, younger and cocky, offers more. The numbers climb, but it’s a game they don’t know they’ve already lost.

I chuckle darkly. “These sfigatiactually think they have a chance.”

Luca doesn’t respond. His jaw is locked so tight it might shatter. Me? I’m burning alive.

I raise my hand lazily, throwing out a number that makes the crowd murmur. We don’t have a strategy, but it doesn’t matter. Money is nothing.

The host’s lips part in shock before he covers it with a slimy smile. “Ah, a generous offer from Mr. Venturi.”

The old man counters.

“Doppio,” I say firmly. Double

The young bastard grits his teeth and hesitates before throwing in another number.

“Triplo.” My voice carries, and the host nearly chokes.

“That’s quite the bid—” He clears his throat. “Any more?” He scans the crowd, his beady eyes searching for hunger. Joey Costa turns in his seat, his hair slick, his expression oily, eyeing me and my brothers. He’s not friends with Nero but always looks to grease his palms. “Double again,” he says. I don’t even think he wants the girl. He wants to inflate the price for Nero so he can call in a favor later.noveldrama

“Five times the current bid,” Luca states, his voice so low and sharp it’s like ice cracking over a frozen lake.

The room echoes with a shared gasp. Luca bid himself, and enough to make it clear he’s not backing down. The air vibrates as Aemelia shifts, her chest rising and falling more quickly. The dark shadow of her nipples and the hair on her cunt shows through the lace, and my dick notices.

Nobody moves.

The host stares at us, the gavel hovering. The idiot thinks he’s Judge Judy, for fuck’s sake. “Once. Twice…”

Silence. The other bidders shrink back, knowing better than to challenge Don Venturi. It could be their butchered body parts being sold at the dog food auction next.

“Sold.”

Aemelia flinches at the final word, and her head drops, her hair covering her expression. She doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t understand.

We didn’t just buy her.

We claimed her.

And we never let go of what’s ours.