Sold to a mafia billionaire

No one answered. They were too scared to breathe. Jessica was crying, her designer mascara running. Chloe dropped her phone. The whole diner was frozen. Alaric Knight didn't look at them anymore. He only looked at me. I was still shaking, wrapped in his jacket that cost more than my entire life. It was warm, and for the first time in three years, I felt safe. But also scared. Who was this man? He walked straight to me. Close. So close I could see his eyes were not just cold - they were dark grey, like a storm. "You're freezing," he murmured, and before I could protest, he lifted me. He lifted me! One arm under my knees, one arm around my back, like I weighed nothing. I gasped. I was dirty, soaked with mop water, and this billionaire was carrying me like I was something precious. "Put me down! Everyone is looking!" "Let them look," he said coldly. He walked past Jessica. He stopped. He looked down at her phone on the floor - the one she used to record me. He lifted his expensive black shoe and crushed it. Crack! The screen shattered. Jessica screamed, "My phone! That's $2000!" "Send the bill to Knight Enterprises," Alaric said without looking at her. "And if I ever see a video of her on the internet, I will sue your family until you have nothing left to eat." Then he carried me out of the diner. The sun hit my wet face. His black Bentley was waiting, engine running. A driver in a black suit opened the back door. He placed me inside on the leather seat. It was warm inside, with soft heat. I was dripping dirty water on his $300,000 car seats and he didn't care. He sat next to me. He was so big, his legs touched mine. "Drive," he told his driver. The car moved. I looked out the window and saw Jessica and her friends standing in the puddle of dirty water, watching us leave. For the first time, they looked scared. My teeth were chattering. I was still in shock. "Why... why are you helping me?" I finally whispered. "You don't know me." He was typing on his phone, fast. He didn't look at me. "I own this block. You were crying on my property. It was bad for business." "You own the diner?" I asked. "I own the whole street. The diner, the shops, the apartments above. I own half of downtown." Of course he did. "Where are you taking me? I need to go back, my boss will fire me-" "Your boss already fired you three months ago," he said calmly, still typing. "He just keeps you working for free because your stepmother told him you owe her money." My mouth dropped open. How did he know that? "How do you know my stepmother? How do you know my boss?" At that, he finally looked up. His grey eyes locked on mine. "Because, Ava Cole, my men have been watching you for two weeks." The car went cold. "W-watching me? Why? You are a stalker?" He leaned back, his face unreadable. "Because your stepmother came to my company to ask for a loan. She offered you as payment. She said you were beautiful, innocent, 21, and desperate. She had your photo." My stomach dropped. My hands started shaking again. "That's a lie! She wouldn't..." "She asked for $50,000," he continued, his voice getting darker. "She told my manager you would do anything. Clean, cook, marry anyone. She was going to sell you to a 60-year-old man named Mr. Harrison. He collects young girls." Tears filled my eyes. "No. No, she can't do that. I'm not a thing to be sold." Alaric watched my tears with clenched jaw. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "That is why I sent my men to watch the diner. I wanted to see if you were... what she said. But I saw something else. I saw you working like a slave. I saw them bullying you every day. I saw you crying in the back alley during your break." "You... you saw me crying?" "Every day at 2:15 p.m. Behind the trash cans." I covered my face. I was so humiliated. He gently pulled my hands down. His touch was surprisingly soft. "Listen to me, Ava. I did not buy you. I refused your stepmother's offer. But Harrison did not. He paid her yesterday. $50,000 cash. He is coming to your apartment tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. to take you away as his wife." "No!" I screamed, grabbing his arm. "No, I won't go! I'm 21, she can't force me! Call the police!" "The police work for Harrison in this city," he said quietly. "He has three wives already. All under 25. All bought from poor families." I was sobbing now, shaking so hard I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare. Alaric suddenly reached out and pulled me against his chest. I stiffened, but he just held me, one big hand on the back of my head. "Stop," he whispered into my hair. "Don't cry like that. I don't like it." "I have nowhere to go," I cried into his expensive suit. "If I go back, she will give me to him." "You are not going back." The car stopped. I looked up. We were in front of huge black iron gates. They opened automatically. Inside was not a house. It was a palace. A mansion with fountains, with guards holding guns everywhere, with lights that looked like stars. "Where... where are we?" "My house," he said simply. "You will stay here." "I can't stay here! I don't know you!" He got out of the car and came to my side. He opened my door and offered his hand again. "You know me now. I am Alaric Knight. I am 32. I am a billionaire. And I am also the man who will kill anyone who tries to take you." I looked at his hand. Big, strong, with veins. A hand that could crush a phone and also wipe tears away. From the mansion, an older woman in a maid uniform came running out, worried. "Mr. Knight, the room is ready!" "Take her," he told her. "Clean her. Dress her. Burn those clothes." The maid gently helped me out. As she led me toward the giant doors, I heard Alaric behind me on his phone, his voice no longer soft. It was ice, pure mafia ice. "Bring Harrison to the warehouse. Alive. And bring the stepmother. I want Ava to hear it from her own mouth." *CLIFFHANGER:* And as I entered the mansion, I heard him add: "And call my lawyer. Prepare a marriage contract. If Harrison paid $50,000, I will pay $5 million. Ava Cole will be a Knight by midnight."