Chapter 3

Damon Pov

I hadn't planned on visiting the black market so soon. These auctions usually bored me – fragile toys that broke too easily, like my last pet. Poor thing couldn't handle a single night with me. But Julian, my right hand had suggested we make an appearance, something about finding the right toy for me.

Preposterous. I was never that sentimental. That gets you killed in my line of work.

"Sir," Julian's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "The auction's about to end. Should we head out?"

I was about to agree when the auctioneer's voice caught my attention. "Lot 847, nineteen years old, untouched."

Untouched.

I turned back, my interest piqued. The girl on stage stood straight despite her nakedness, defiance burning in those ocean-blue eyes. Most were hunched, broken. But not this one.

She seemed familiar too.

“She's the one?”

“Yes, Sir,” Julian responded. Ah, as I thought. “Do you think she's too early, Sir? Maybe a few more weeks?”

This girl, Mimi's payment to me was brought here for a reason. She wasn't supposed to meet me just yet, till she was ready.

But looking at her now.

“I want her now. She's ready.”

Julian turned around and gave a signal.

When no one bid, I almost laughed. They didn't dare.

Total Idiots too. They couldn't see the potential – the thrill of corrupting something so pure, so untainted. "Five hundred thousand."

The drive home was becoming increasingly irritating. The girl – Iris, according to her papers – wouldn't shut up.

"Why me? What are you going to do to me? Where are we going?"

I kept my eyes fixed on my phone, scrolling through emails. Usually, I enjoyed it when they begged, but her voice was grating on my nerves.

"Answer me! You can't just—"

"Marcus." I didn't need to say more. My man reached back, producing a cloth gag.

She fought him, of course. It was almost amusing watching her try to bite Marcus's fingers. Almost. But then I noticed how both Marcus and Anthony's eyes lingered on her body, still barely covered by the thin auction robe.

Marcus's knuckles were white on the gag as he pulled it tight, his fingers deliberately brushing against her neck. Lingering. Too fucking long.

I watched through narrowed eyes as Anthony shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants while pretending to look out the window. But every few seconds, his gaze would drift back to where the robe had slipped off Iris's shoulder, revealing creamy skin.

"Beautiful piece you got there, boss," Marcus mumbled, his eyes fixed on her chest rising and falling with each breath. "Real beautiful."

The rage built slowly in my chest as Anthony licked his lips, both men exchanging knowing looks. They thought I didn't notice how they angled their bodies toward her, how their breathing had gotten heavier, how their hands twitched with the barely contained desire to touch what was mine.

Mine. Not theirs to look at. Not theirs to want. Not theirs to even think about.

The car would need new upholstery after I was done with them. But first, we needed to cover her up. I couldn't very well kill my best men. At least, not yet.

"Pull over," I ordered, my voice deadly calm. "We're making a stop."

The car screeched to a halt outside Valentina's Boutique. A front business for the family. Perfect.

"Out," I ordered, grabbing Iris's arm. Her skin was soft under my grip. "Both of you stay here." The warning in my voice was clear – they'd already looked at my property enough.

The bell chimed as we entered. Valentina herself hurried forward, all fake smiles and nervous energy. Of course, she was scared of me. Why shouldn't she be? Her business existed only at my whim. "Don Vyon! What a pleasure—"

"I need clothes. For her." I pushed Iris forward. "What's your size, doll?"

She lifted her chin, eyes blazing above the gag. Refusing to answer.

Something dark stirred in my chest. I enjoyed defiance, enjoyed breaking it, but not in public. Never in public.

"Tape measure," I barked at Valentina, who scrambled to comply.

Iris tried to twist away as I reached for her, but I caught her easily, spinning her around and pinning her back against my chest. "Stand still," I growled in her ear, feeling her shiver. "Or this gets much worse."

She stilled, but I could feel her rapid heartbeat as I ran the tape measure across her shoulders, down her sides, and around her hips. Each measurement I called out to Valentina, enjoying how Iris flinched at my touch.

"Dresses, skirts, blouses. Nothing too conservative." I released Iris, watching her stumble forward. "And lingerie. Lots of it."

Valentina returned quickly with arms full of clothing. I selected a deep blue dress that would match those defiant eyes. "Put it on."

Iris's gaze darted to the changing rooms.

"Here." I settled into a plush armchair. "Where I can see you."

She shook her head. “No. I can't do that.” She hugged the dress to herself. “Why can't I go to the changing room?”

“Because you can't ever leave my sight,” I replied. "You're my property now, doll." I leaned forward, enjoying how she backed away. "Nothing you have is private anymore. Not your body, not your thoughts, not your fears. The sooner you accept that the easier this will be."

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she reached for the ties of her robe. Good girl.

The robe fell away and I allowed myself to look at her. Pale skin unmarked by bruises or scars – that would change soon enough. Curves in all the right places, begging to be marked, claimed.

She fumbled with the dress, cheeks burning red as my gaze traveled over her body. The material finally slid down, covering what was mine to look at whenever I pleased.

"Better." I stood, gathering the rest of the clothes. "Now we can go home." I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. "And see just how long that defiance of yours lasts."

A whimper escaped around her gag. Music to my ears.

This one wouldn't break easily like the others. No, this one would be fun to corrupt, to twist, to mold into exactly what I wanted. And judging by the fear and fury warring in those blue eyes, she knew it too.

I couldn't wait to get started.