The deal

Diana stumbled forward as one of the guards gave her a push. Her hands were still cuffed, the cold metal digging into her wrists. The masked man—her buyer—sat calmly in his seat, his legs crossed, fingers laced together. On either side of him, two guards stood like statues, waiting for his next command.

His eyes, dark and unreadable behind the velvet mask, scanned her from head to toe. Slowly. Deliberately.

Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gave a lazy order.

"Cuff her properly."

The guards moved instantly. They adjusted her cuffs, locking them together at the front instead of behind her back. A small mercy. Then, without a word, he stood, adjusted his gloves, and began walking toward the exit.

"Take her to the car," he said, voice cold and quiet. "Now."

She was pulled along like cargo. Her feet stumbled as they guided her outside. The crowd from the auction was gone. The halls were eerily silent. The moment the doors opened, she was shoved into the backseat of a long, black car.

The man slid in behind her. The door shut. And then—silence.

Not a word was spoken as the engine started and the car pulled away from the estate. Diana didn't dare move. Her heart beat fast, loud in her chest. She glanced sideways, stealing quick looks at him—but his face was still masked. Still unreadable.

Time passed. Minutes or hours—she wasn't sure.

But when the car finally rolled to a stop, her stomach twisted.

This wasn't the building from the other night.

This wasn't the house where he had taken her like she mattered. This place was bigger. Colder. A mansion, gated and surrounded by trimmed hedges and security cameras. Rich. Powerful. Dangerous.

She was yanked out of the car and guided through the entrance. The front doors opened before they even touched the handle. Maids rushed forward with lowered heads.

"Boss," they said in unison, bowing.

He gave a flick of his wrist, dismissing them all with one silent wave.

They disappeared instantly.

Diana's cuffs were finally removed, but only so they could shove her down to her knees in the middle of the sitting room. The floor was cold under her skin.

The man walked forward and sat on the long leather couch across from her. He leaned back with ease, one leg resting over the other. Then, finally, he reached up and removed the mask from his face.

Her breath caught.

Vincenzo.

It was him.

Her mouth opened, words forming—but he lifted one hand and she froze.

The guards behind them left without needing instruction. The heavy doors shut with a soft click, leaving just the two of them in the vast room.

He studied her for a long moment.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Ms. Diana… am I correct?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

"Sir?" he repeated with a raised brow, then laughed. "Weren't you the bold little pervert the other night?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Why… why sir?"

"You can call me by my name, angel," he said smoothly. "Or does it sound salty to you?"

She shook her head quickly, eyes wide.

Vincenzo leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "Now," he said, voice low and steady, "how do you plan on paying me back for saving your life?"

"I—I…" she stammered. "I promise I'll work hard. I'll pay you back every cent."

He let out a deep, amused laugh, the kind that made her spine straighten with unease.

"Work hard and pay me back?" he echoed, lips curling. "Really? How long do you think that'll take, sweetheart?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know…"

He stood, slowly, like a lion getting ready to play with his food. Then he crouched in front of her, eyes locked on hers. His fingers gently lifted her chin until she was forced to meet his gaze.

"Let's strike a deal."

He leaned in, lips brushing against her ear, his voice a seductive whisper.

"If you agree to have sex with me six times a day… I'll consider your debt paid in a year."

He paused, letting the weight of the offer settle into her bones.

"Or," he continued casually, "you can scrub my floors and clean toilets as a maid for the rest of your life. Because we both know you're never working your way out of four hundred million."

Diana froze.

Six times?

She raised her fingers slowly, almost without realizing it, counting.

"One, two, three, four…" Her voice cracked. "Six?"

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You really think I'll survive having sex six times every single day?"

His grin widened. "Of course you can," he said, confident and cruel. "You'll get used to it."

"Deal?" he asked again, head tilting.

She shook her head slowly.

"No…" she breathed. "I can't do that. My body's not for sale."

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small.

Her breath hitched.

It was her underwear.

The one she'd forgotten in his room after that night.

He held it up casually, like it meant nothing. "I believe this belongs to you."

Then he tossed it at her feet and turned his back.

"Your job as a maid starts tomorrow," he said flatly.

He raised his voice slightly. "Alessia."

A maid appeared instantly at the door.

"Get her cleaned up."

"Yes, boss," the maid replied.

As the doors shut behind her, Diana sat there frozen on the floor, her chest rising and falling with quiet panic. Her fingers clenched around the silk underwear. Her heart was hammering.

Because she knew something terrifying now.

This wasn't a game.

Vincenzo had bought her.

And he wasn't letting her go.