The Taste Of It

Chapter 8

I was sitting in the back with my parents, my brother was chatting up with some blond chick who looked twice his age. I sighed and leaned back into my chair, cursing myself. I told Luis I'd participate in the auction, but I did not know they were auctioning fucking girls. 

The crowd of girls would go one-by-one on the stage, tell the crowd about themselves and try to sell themselves to a bunch of horny, Mafia men. It was fucking disgusting. Most of the girls were in their early twenties and the men who paid for them? In their forties, maybe fifties. 

It was fucking bullshit and honestly, downright disgusting. 

I tuned out the girl who introduced the girls until I heard a certain name.

"And, last but not least, Miss. Isabella Russo!" My head snapped up as I saw Russo cross the stage in a navy blue dress that had a slit over her left thigh. 

Oh, this is too good to be true. . .

"Hello." Isabella looked over the crowd in disgustment. She wasn't the first girl to do that but she was the first to say, "Where I live is none of your fucking business. My name isn't your fucking business. And my ideal date would to be cutting off his dick."

There was a stunned silence and from the corner of my eye I saw another Mafia owner spit out their drink.

"3,000!" I hear someone yell and Isabella glared at him with eyes that could pierce his heart.

"7,000!" Another person said. 

"12,000!" I rolled my eyes as the numbers went higher and higher. Whatever sore loser went home with her, was most likely having their dick fed to them.

"20,000!" A new voice said and I looked up. It was Akim Vladimir, he was an owner of the Russian Mafia. And one of our worst enemies.

Akim glared at Isabella. It was clear that he wanted her, and I was positive it wasn't for sex. I'm also positive that Isabella killed his side project, and as revenge? To kill her.

I would not let that happen. Isabella is to die at mine. No one else's. And that motherfucker owed my father thousands of dollars.

Wait. . .a fuckign second.

My smirk spread across my lips as I stood. "30,000!" Isabella's eyes found mine and amusement sparked as I saw her skin paled.

"40,000!" Akim called louder as he glared at me. I could see his wife looking at him with pleading eyes.

"50,000!" My smirk widened as Akim sat back down, glowering.

"Going once. . .going twice. . .," I saw the brunette at the podium, practically salivating. "And sold! To the man in the back!" She laughed, as I settled back down in my seat and Isabella glared at me with fire from hell.

"Whew, people!" The brunette waved her face. "That was our highest bidder of the night! Oh, wonderful. Well, as our highest bidder, please come up and dance. With your prize of course."

What the fuck? No way in fucking hell would I dance with Isabella Russo.

And judging by the way Isabella recoiled, she thought the same thing.

I raised my eyebrows at her and waited for her to come to me. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows back at me. There was a silence falling over the room as we both fought a mental battle on who was going to move first.

The brunette coughed, giving a fake laugh. She walked up to Isabella, whispered something that made Isabella roll her eyes but she walked towards me, almost grudgingly.

"What the fuck do you want?" She snapped the second she got in five feet of me.

"Why, is that anyway to treat a man who saved you from a worse fate?" I smirked and gestured towards Akim who was hitting on an unfortunate blond.

"I'd rather be with him," She ground out as she stepped close avoiding the stares at her, and lowered her voice.

"Would you?" I eyed Akim as his hand crept up the blonds leg as she recoiled away from him. He growled something to her and she stood up and walked away even as he stared hungrily at her ass, completely ignoring his wife a few feet away.

She didn't respond but rolled her eyes. Her head turned as the brunette called into the microphone. "Please, everyone dance!"

She ignored me as she stalked past me and sat into a chair, taking a wine glass from a nearby server. 

"Miss. Russo?" Oh, this is too much fun, I thought as I knew a way that could torture her. "Care to dance?"

She kept her gaze on mine as she downed the glass in one gulp. She took another one, drank that one twice as fast, setting them down, she nodded. "Yup. Let's fucking dance." Her voice was breathless as she stood and walked over to me.

Even though she was next to me, she kept me at an arm's length distance. I sighed, and took her hand in mine. I took her out to the floor as everyone started dancing around us. She almost flinched but recovered herself.

"Try to not step on my feet," She growled as I placed a hand on her waist and the other had her hand resting in mine.

I ignored her and pulled her an inch closer before letting her go to let her spin around. As she did I caught a faint glare of silver underneath her wrist. Once she was back in my arms, I turned her wrist over and saw a slim, silver dagger, wedged in between her bracelets.

"I know your parents gave you the same talk mine did. No killing people?" I asked as we stepped in sync, she knew how to dance which wasn't uncommon in the Mafia, but it was uncommon to actually step in sync with the partner.

"Just in case," She smiled at me, her voice dripping with poisonous honey as she faked her smile. "And you have no room to say anything..."

Her eyes dropped down to the slight bulge on my side where my gun sat in its holster, and she lowered her hands to the gun before placing it back in mine.

"In the case of emergencies," I paused. "You never know with all these dangerous men around," I mocked as we spun around the floor.

The tune of the music changed into a slower song as Isabella eyes lit up with recognition. I listened to the first few notes and hid my smirk. Of course, she'd know it. It was Sway by Michael Buble but a slower version.

My mom and dad danced to it at their wedding and my mom still listened to it often. She had me and my brother learn it and the dance moves. Least to say, it was torture.

As the beginning notes began to play as everyone switched dancing positions. Isabella reucuelently did, too. Her hands traveled up my chest to the back of my neck and mine went to her waist.