"One million," A man seated at the corner of the room called out, raising his paddle.
My heart pounded louder with each bid. The men sneered, their eyes devouring me like I was a piece of meat. My body trembled as I rubbed my sweaty hands on my clothes.
The bids went higher and higher until there were just two men left. 
"Three million," the chubby man declared, impatient evident in his tone.
There was silence in the room for a moment.
"Five million," A stranger countered, raising his paddle. 
My eyes widened in shock as I tried to figure out who this stranger was. The room was filled with murmurs and no one could counter the stranger. 
The auctioneer's gavel slammed down. 
"Sold!" 
***
Leila Flynn, 19 years old, struggles to keep her ailing brother alive, and her life takes a dark turn when she is suddenly kidnapped into London's underworld auction. During the auction, she is bought for a high price by a mysterious and wealthy stranger, Dominic Anderson. Leila is then taken to a grand mansion in London, where she begins a complex relationship with Dominic.
Dominic, a powerful mafia boss, lives a life shrouded in mystery and danger. Leila gradually discovers that Dominic's concern for her and her younger brother, Michael- who suffers from leukemia- goes beyond mere kindness. Under Dominic's protection, Leila tries to uncover his true intentions while also developing a subtle emotional connection with his brother, Luca.
In this dangerous game of love, betrayal, and revenge, Leila must decide whether to place her trust in Dominic or sever all ties with his perilous world once and for all.

Maid for the Mafia

　　"I need to see you and your father. It's urgent." My voice was flat.


　　Jocelyn's response was sweet, dripping sweet with concern that really should have warned me. "Of course, Dominic. Is everything alright?"


　　"I'll tell you when I see you," I replied briefly.


　　"Let's meet at your father's office within the hour?"


　　"An hour?" she repeated, and there was a distinct note of hesitation in her voice, and almost I seemed to sense her weighing up her next step. "Yes, I'll tell him. We'll be there."


　　"Good," I said, and with that said, I replaced the receiver.


　　I just stood there in that great office where Mr. Richard Rossini was over his desk. My weight felt like plush leather. Of course, there was expensive art on the walls, those items screaming money and power. Jocelyn sat to his right, shooting her gaze between the two of us with feigned curiosity and concern.


CHAPTER 87 The Rossini's