Girasole - [Daniel Ricciardo]

0.1

A/N: Elina is portrayed by Svieta Namkova, Latvian model.

     The voices around her sounded distant at first. Elina felt her head pounding slightly, as if a gigantic pressure was added to her brain. She could barely lift her head to look around. A pair of fingers opened her eye and a flashlight shone into them. "Stunning, bright eyes". Someone said and she squinted them close with a whimper. Elina's throat was dry and swallowing caused a burning feeling to follow up. "She's not too thin. Her weight is perfect". The voice was louder now and she opened her eyes now to see who was with her. Elina jumped when a hand locked around her jaw, keeping her face in place and she looked into the eyes of the man who seemed to examine her for the first time. Her sudden movement backwards caused him to loosen his grip and she shuffled further back. "Scared little bird you are". He chuckled and just closed her in.

You just caused me to black out and I'm kidnapped, of course I'm fucking scared ran through her mind, but Elina didn't say anything when his fingers moved over her bare collarbones and briefly she looked down in panic, slightly relieved to see she was at least wearing her underwear. "How much is she worth, Francesco?". Another male voice sounded. They were all speaking English. Perhaps because they wanted to scare her even more. How much, that was the question that started this whole disaster. "Nothing". Elina's voice rasped and the man called Francesco looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "More than a million". He responded to his companion, ignoring what she said. "Why am I here?". Elina dared to ask and Francesco sighed deeply, standing up. "The annoying ones always ask questions". He replied and muttered some words to his friend in another language.

Elina listened closely, assuming it was some Roman kind of language, but her head was aching even more from the bright lights on the ceiling. She was seated somewhere in what looked like a cell, yet a bit more friendly. Only a bit. A bed was in the corner and a single seat in the other, a counter with a sink also on the wall and she longed for some water. "Water, please". Francesco shared a look with the other man once more before they nodded at each other. Elina whimpered when she was roughly pulled up by her warm, feeling the man's fingers tightly curl around her flesh, his nails digging into her skin as if she could run away with three guards in front of the door. Standing up now, she wanted to hide her body from the men, very aware that they were all watching her. They were actually watching her body, her curves, her legs and she felt absolutely disgusting.

Francesco pushed her head down to the sink, letting the water run and she got only a minimum amount of time to drink before he pulled her up again. Elina pulled her arm back when his grip loosened and she wrapped them around herself to cover herself up. Francesco's look hardened when she did so, yanking her arm back into his grip. "Francesco, tempo di lavarmi". [time to shower]. One of the others told him and nodded towards the Latvian. He didn't say anything to Elina when he pulled her with him, another hand on the back of her neck to have an extra hold on her. Her cheeks became heavily red when all the men in the hallway looked at her, their greedy eyes upon her making the tears well up in her orbs again. Elina had never felt this humiliated before. She had no idea where she was, but this couldn't be good. She didn't see or hear any other women, so she must be the only one.

Elina almost slipped on the cold, wet tiles when she was pushed inside. "Shower, wash yourself". Francesco barked at her at she looked down at the floor to not look into his eyes. "What are you waiting for, puttana". Elina got now that he wasn't going to leave and she bit her lip not to start sobbing right here. Francesco didn't give her anymore time to undress herself further and stepped forward to push her against the wall, making her clutch her arms to her chest when he almost tore the fabric of her bra. Elina cried softly when he shoved her panties down her legs and pulled the bra away from her chest in a rough move. She looked away from him when he pinned her to the wall, but now her chest to him. "Perfect little girl". He hummed, his hand caressing her body, the side of her breast and she wanted to throw up right here. Elina felt her back pressing against a button and she leaned further back, which caused the shower to activate. Francesco cursed when the cold water poured down on him and Elina turned around again to hide herself.

"You bitch". He growled and she was crying while the cold water froze her skin. "Francesco, you know what the orders were. Don't hurt her". Another voice was audible and Francesco controlled himself, shaking his wet jacket off his shoulders. Elina knew he didn't leave, so she wiped her face, her fingertips black from the mascara she had been wearing, her palms cladded with the small amount of foundation she had put on for the dinner with Marta last night. "Are you done?". Francesco snarled and before she could answer, the shower stopped and a towel was thrown over her. Elina dried her body and tightly wrapped the towel around herself to make him stop looking at her breasts.  "Where am I going?". Elina asked once more and she gasped when Francesco pulled her close. "Listen, little Elina. You are worth a lot of money. If you screw this up for the lord, only nightmares will follow". He replied and she couldn't even respond before a bag was pulled over her head.

Elina had no idea where she was brought next, but when the bag was removed, she was pushed into a seat and saw a woman standing next to her. "You are indeed very beautiful". She hummed and Elina had so many questions. "Let's get you into some clothes and all dolled up, shall we?". She smiled and clapped her hands, as if this was her favorite part of the whole shit show. Did the woman know that she had an ice cold shower while some kind of pervert was watching her, clearly getting a boner over her at least ten year younger body? "For what?". Elina asked while she was pulled along to a rack of clothes. Her towel was pulled away from her and she quietly took the underwear that was shoved into her arms. "You're worth a lot of money, princess". The same vague answer was replied to her. "Oh, I just love it when I get the special ones!". Her fingers moved over the dresses, skirts and other clothes that hung on the rack, looking over at Elina every now and then.

"I'm not special". Elina protested, her lower lip trembling again. "You are. Stop crying". Her voice was suddenly stern and Elina nibbled on her lip now. She just wanted to wake up and think back of this as a weird dream. However this was the bad reality. "Are there more like me?". She decided to ask. "Rarely". The woman said. "Russian, but not quite. Scandinavian, but not quite. Perhaps some Polish blood as well". She continued. Elina guessed she was special because she was Latvian. "Oh, yes". The woman pulled a dress from the rack. It was silver and in any other kind of situation, Elina would've said that it was beautiful. But now she disgusted it. She didn't want to wear that dress. She didn't want to be all dolled up. But she had no choice. She was put down in the chair once more after the dress was pulled down her body. The only thing Elina found positive was that she was at least wearing something now.

The woman combed her hair, blow dried it and applied her makeup, using all kinds of products Elina rarely used herself. A pair of heels were ready for her and she wondered what had happened to her other clothes. "Elina". The woman said when she stood up. A man, not Francesco, was waiting for her at the door. "jūs izdzīvojat, nesniedzot jautājumus". [you survive by not asking questions]. The woman looked into her eyes when she told her the advice in Latvian. Elina's eyes slightly widened and she nodded slowly, swallowing hard. The other man took her somewhere, apparently nowhere secret as her head wasn't covered with a bag this time. Elina gasped when she was pushed between two curtains and they were pulled aside so she could enter. "Elina Dombrovskis. 24 years old from Riga, Latvia". Elina moved her hand above her eyes to see something in the bright light and she was shocked by the sight of the men that were gathered beneath her. She was standing there on a stage as if she was a monkey in a cage. "Half a million". A voice sounded. Half a million what?

"A million". Followed up. Elina felt her heart sink in her chest, goosebumps of horror rose upon her skin when she realized.

This was an auction.

"Two and a half million". A deep voice sounded. It was quiet afterwards. "Elina is sold to Mr. Ricciardo from Sicily". A hammer hit the wooden desk.

And she was just sold.