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

NOT MY FATHER

Antonio left after breakfast with a lingering backward glance as though he was worried about leaving me in the house with four gnarled soldiers who barely speak, and his brothers. After showering one by one, the soldiers disappear to man the perimeter, and Luca spends most of his time pacing in the backyard on the phone, leaving me alone with Alexis.

His words won’t stop echoing around in my mind like a drug, dissolving my composure and making me restless.

Are you the begging type?

I didn’t think I was, but when he said it, my pussy tightened like a closing fist, and my knees softened like they were ready to bend for him. Heat pooled low in my belly, pulsing between my thighs. I remembered Luca ordering me to my knees, his fingers brushing against me, and instead of disgust, all I felt was rage and hunger.

Something happened to me during my captivity. These men, who at first seemed like monsters, have become undeniably human in my eyes. The fear I once felt is no longer a scream in my mind. It’s just a whisper now, an occasional shiver down my spine, something that lingers but does not command me.

So when Alexis drops onto the couch beside me to watch the only decent thing on TV—a quiz show—and starts shouting out answers, I should be frozen with fear. But I’m not. He sprawls out lazily, feet on the table, radiating confidence he hasn’t earned.

“Which organ produces insulin?”

“Oh, I know this!” Alexis snaps his fingers. “The testicles!”

I choke out, “WHAT? No! It’s the pancreas!”

“Listen,” he argues, completely serious. “Guys get moody when they’re hungry. That’s gotta be hormonal. So logically… bam. Testicles.”

I snort with surprised laughter. “Your logic is terrifying.”

“The correct answer is the pancreas,” the host confirms.

Alexis grumbles, shifting in his seat.“Whatever. Next question. I’ll get the next one.”

“Which Shakespearean play features the line, ‘To be, or not to be’?”

Without missing a beat, Alexis smirks. “Fast & Furious 2.”

I stare at him, horrified. “You cannot be serious.”

“No, princess. That’s John McEnroe. And Vin Diesel gets real deep sometimes.”

I shove his shoulder, laughing uncontrollably. “I’m never watching a quiz show with you again.”

Alexis grins, grabbing my wrist so I can’t push him again, his face lit up with amusement. “Admit it, piccolina, you love it.”

I do, but I don’t admit it. Instead, I turn my attention back to the TV. I don’t complain when he shifts closer until our bodies are pressed together from shoulder to knee. His warmth seeps through my thin yoga pants, his presence consuming and intoxicating.

From the corner of my eye, I catch him watching me, amusement playing on his lips. He’s studying me, as intrigued as he is entertained as I answer more questions correctly than he does. Instead of pouting, he throws his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me like I just won the twenty-thousand-dollar jackpot. His body is solid and firm, and his scent—a mix of cedarwood, leather, and something sharp and clean like a storm on the horizon—wraps around me.

This man wants me. I know it in the way he looks at me, the hunger in his gaze carving invisible marks into my skin. It’s a weight, pressing in, claiming me before he’s even touched me. But it’s more than that.

He likes me.

And I want him.

I want to laugh at his stupid jokes and observations. I want to know how far he’ll push me, how much he’ll make me beg. I think he’d enjoy making me wait, draw it out, teasing until I was trembling, dripping, desperate. He’d relish my total submission and his complete dominance. Could I give him that?

I’m getting under the skin of all the Venturi brothers. I can feel it. Antonio, despite his discipline, can’t hide the way his eyes darken when I’m nearby. He touches me like I’m something precious, something more than a bargaining chip or an object within his control.

Luca, the coldest of them all, cradled me last night like I was someone he needed to protect, a woman on the edge of breaking apart. When I kissed him, his body shuddered as though he was about to come undone.

And Alexis? He’s the youngest and wears his hunger openly, reckless and untamed. He doesn’t pretend. He doesn’t hold back. And right now, he’s looking at me like he’s thinking of all the ways he could break me apart and put me back together.

Desire is power. If these men want me, if I can be something irreplaceable in their lives, maybe the threats they’ve made to entice my father to come forward will fall away. Maybe it’s my best chance of survival. Yet, even as I think it, I can’t imagine them hurting me unless it was in a way that I’d enjoy. Luca’s sharp spanks across my ass proved that much. He stopped at five before it got too much for me to bear.

The intensity of my desire is terrifying. The boys back home were just that—boys. Immature. Uncertain. Or psychos like my stupid stalker. The Venturis are men. Strong, dangerous men. And the age gap? That only makes them hotter. There’s something intoxicating about the way they move, hands talking as much as their mouths, the way they look at me with burning intensity, the way they speak in low, commanding voices that demand obedience.

I hear my mama’s words in my head, warning me about my daddy issues, telling me to be careful of my subconscious need to replace the man who was only ever a shadow in my life.

But is it so wrong to want a man who will take care of me?

Or even… three?

Three men who would kill to avenge their dead brother. If they have so much loyalty for a dead sibling, what would they do for a woman they love? What would they do for me?

Alexis shifts beside me, his fingers tracing lazy circles against my shoulder. “You’re quiet, gattina. Thinking about something?”

I turn to face him, my breath hitching as I meet his eyes—deep gold, flecked with green, brimming with amusement. And heat.

“No,” I lie.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing.

“It’s nothing.”

His grin turns wicked and predatory like he can scent the arousal threading through my veins. His fingertip skims up the exposed side of my neck, lingering where my pulse beats erratically, his gaze following the path of his touch. A shiver rolls down my spine, my skin pebbling with goosebumps. “That so?” His hand trails lower, down my forearm, the pads of his fingers barely ghosting over my skin. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Before I can second-guess myself, before logic can pull me back, Alexis cups my jaw and crushes his lips to mine. The kiss is demanding, unapologetic, his tongue teasing my lower lip until I let him in. Heat flares through me as he explores my mouth, a wildfire consuming everything rational, pooling low in my belly. My fingers clutch his shirt, fisting the fabric, anchoring myself to him as his other hand grips my hip, possessive and firm.

He pulls back just enough for his breath to ghost against my lips, “On your knees.”

A shudder wracks my body, but I obey without hesitation, sinking between his legs as though my body was created for his command. My breath stutters, memories of Luca staring down at me with his piercing gaze flashing through my mind. Alexis leans forward, threading his fingers through my hair, his grip firm—not painful but in control.

“You know what you have to do for me to cross the line, gattina.” His words hiss through his lips as though he’s barely holding onto his own restraint, silk, and steel, seductive and dangerous. “If that’s what you want.”

He waits, staring down at me, knowing the desires that linger in me better than I do. “Now, beg.”

My lips part, but no sound escapes. My throat is dry, my pulse has a frantic drumbeat. The weight of his command settles over me, intoxicating, dizzying.

“Don’t make me wait.”

“Please,” I whisper.

His eyes glitter like gems, his lips drawing into a smile that could corrupt the purest heart. His fingers graze my lips, tracing the shape of my mouth. “Suck,” he orders, pressing two fingers past my lips.

I obey, hollowing my cheeks around him, tasting the salt of his skin. His breath hitches, and his grip tightens in my hair. He pushes further, past the back of my tongue into my throat, testing me, and I open it for him the way I’d need to accommodate this long, thick cock. The dark pleasure in his gaze makes my stomach clench and heat coil tighter between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together in rhythmic pulses, seeking friction, anything to alleviate the throbbing ache.

And then—

“What the fuck is this?”

Alexis jerks back as if burned. I release his fingers with a wet pop, spinning toward the voice, my stomach knotting with dread. Antonio stands in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes a storm of fury and devastation. His jaw clenches so tight, I swear his teeth grind.

The air in the room shifts, thick with something far more dangerous than lust.

Antonio’s gaze locks onto mine, and for the first time since my captivity began, true fear skates down my spine. His expression guts me, the raw betrayal there slicing deeper than I could have imagined.

Before I can process it, before I can say a single word to explain, he’s moving.

I barely register the way he lifts me from the carpet like I weigh nothing more than a feather, his grip bruising, his movements swift. My breath leaves me in a gasp as he throws me over his shoulder, and I beat his back in protest, but he doesn’t falter, doesn’t loosen his hold.

He carries me up the stairs, each step vibrating with barely contained fury. The door swings open, and I’m tossed onto the mattress, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

Antonio stares at me, his fists trembling at his sides, his whole body coiled tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His expression is twisted—not just with anger, but something deeper. Something raw.

His storm-gray eyes glisten, and it wrecks me to think that I’ve hurt him. I thought giving in would make things easier for me.

I was very, very wrong.

“What is this, Aemelia?” His voice is rough, cracked, and edged with something dangerously close to heartbreak. He takes a step back, pressing against the wall as if putting space between us will help him make sense of what he’s seeing.

I force my chin up. “What is what?”

“What are you doing with Alexis and Luca?” His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking violently beneath his olive skin.

“You’re jealous?” I ask, my voice quieter than I want it to be.

Antonio’s nostrils flare. He juts out his chin and it seems as though he wants to laugh, but there’s nothing funny in his eyes. “This is serious.”

“More serious than being held captive by three dangerous men?” I snap, wrapping my arms around my middle.

He runs his hand over his head and clutches the back of his neck, eyes burning. “We can’t keep you safe if our minds are between your legs. Can’t you see that?”

I blink and he huffs, frustration rolling off him in waves. “You have to understand. It’s for your own good to keep your distance. You’re in real danger. It’s not a game.”

“I know I’m danger, Antonio. I know who you are.” I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth, as my heart picks up.

His expression darkens. “I don’t mean from us. I mean from your father.”

Everything inside me turns to stone.

“My father?” My breath is shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You’ve heard from him?”

Antonio nods, rubbing a hand down his face before meeting my gaze again. “Before we left the penthouse, he sent a bunch of roses. Tied up with a bullet.”

“A bullet?” The room tilts, and I reach blindly for the mattress to steady myself.

“Your name was carved into the side,” Antonio adds grimly.

A tremor runs through me, my stomach twisting painfully. “How do you know it was from him?”

“He signed the card with a C.”

A choked noise escapes my throat, and I drop my face into my hands as my entire body begins to shake.

Antonio’s footsteps are heavy against the old wooden floor as he moves closer. The mattress dips beneath his weight, his presence a solid, grounding force.

“Aemelia,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. His hand slides over my shoulder, tracing a slow path down to my elbow, stroking over and over. The warmth of his touch, the steady repetition—it’s meant to soothe, but it only makes my breath hitch harder. “It’s okay. We’ll keep you safe.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I have to tell him. It’s not fair that he believes Carlo has made contact. They’re hiding out here to protect me but from the wrong person. “The flowers… they’re not from my father.”

Antonio stills.

His hand tightens just slightly, his fingers flexing against my skin. “What do you mean?”

Swallowing hard, I force myself to meet his gaze. “In Maryland, I used to work with this guy named Cohen. I was friendly with him, like I am with everyone, but he took it the wrong way. When he asked me out and I turned him down, he became fixated on me.”

Antonio’s face becomes granite, his jaw locking.noveldrama

I keep going, needing to get it all out. “He started following me. Leaving gifts outside my front door. Calling my phone, bombarding me with messages. It was overwhelming, but I wasn’t worried at first. He was just some guy I knew. I thought it was sad… that he’d get bored.”

Antonio’s lip curls, but he doesn’t speak.

“Then, one day, he saw me with a male friend… and he flipped out. That’s when the threats started. Stuffed bears with their heads ripped off. A box of chocolates with a knife stabbed through the packaging. Blood red roses with a bullet tied to the ribbon, and a card scrawled with the letter C.”

Antonio’s breathing grows heavier, his fingers curling into my skin.

“I reported him to the police, but they didn’t do anything. No proof that the threatening gifts were from him.” My voice is hollow, each word scraping its way out of me. “Then, my aunt worsened, and we had to leave. I thought I left it behind. I thought I was free of him.” I shake my head, my vision blurring. “But he followed me.”

Antonio mutters something vicious in Italian, his entire body rigid with fury.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice is sharp now, demanding.

I bark out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Tell the three crazy men who bought me at auction and trapped me in their tower about my stalker?”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before brushing a tear from my cheek with surprising gentleness. “We’re not crazy, Aemelia. We just want justice—for Mario, and now for you.”

I blink, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What do you mean?”

Antonio leans in, his voice dropping, dark and lethal. “This Cohen. I want you to tell me everything you know about him.”

A chill runs down my spine. “Antonio—”

His fingers tighten on my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze. “I promise you; we’ll make him go away.”

I flinch back. “Go away… or go away?”

His lips tilt into something that might be called a smile if it weren’t so cold, so full of malice for the man who terrified me. “You don’t need to worry about anything, bella. Just tell me his name, where he works, any information.”

I bite my lip, but he fixes me with a look that brooks no argument. I either do as he says willingly, or he’ll find a way. I tell him and he rises to his feet with smooth, calculated ease, his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turns and strides toward the door.

“Antonio.” My voice trembles slightly, but he doesn’t pause.

“Stay here,” he orders.

The door clicks shut behind him, and I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temples.

I don’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified.