Bought by the Mafia

Dmitry Smirnov is tall, has dark hair, and a complexion that has all the women drooling and dying to be in his bed. At the tender age of twenty, he took over as head of the Russian mafia when his father was murdered.

In the following ten years, he built an empire, acquiring businesses and homes worldwide. He was cold and ruthless; some would say he had no heart. Everyone feared Dmitry; if one dared to stare him straight in the eye, they could face death.

He moved to America a few years before his thirtieth birthday. He learned to speak English, Italian, French, and Spanish. Even though he spoke them fluently, he still had a thick Russian accent.

His mother was Italian but died giving birth to him. So, he was raised by his father, who taught him to be tough, fight, and even kill. His reputation was known worldwide, and it got to the point where there wasn’t much need for acts of violence.

It just took one look from him, and people did as they were told. Many of the properties he acquired were from men who needed a favor from him. He enjoyed the company of beautiful women, but only for sex.

There was no time in his life for love, not that he believed in love anyway. He was feeling restless Friday night, so he decided to go to a strip club that catered to the rich and famous. It was one of those underground clubs that the cops didn’t know about, one where anything goes.

They had private rooms where the women did whatever the men wanted, from private dances to sex. He often indulged in the pleasures that the women offered, and tonight, he needed some female company. When he arrived with two of his bodyguards, he was taken to his table—the one the club had kept just for him.

After being served his scotch, he sat back and watched the stripper on stage. His eyes were glued to the one who was performing. She was young, slender, and had long, brown hair.

There was something different about her. It was obvious that she was new to stripping. Her moves were clumsy, and she looked scared as hell.

He waved the manager over.

“Mr. Smirnov, how can I help you?” the manager asked.

“That girl, what’s her story?” Dmitry asked.

“I’m so sorry, she’s new and is having trouble getting with the program. If she doesn’t take all her clothes off this time, we’ll have to get rid of her,” the manager replied.

Dmitry knew what that meant: She would be taken for a ride, never to be seen again.

“She looks young. Why is she even here?” he asked.

“Rudy acquired her from her stepfather the other day,” the manager answered.

“Remove her from the stage and take her to one of the back rooms,” Dmitry ordered.

“Mr. Smirnov, you don’t want her, she’s new. Let me get you another girl, one with more experience. Perhaps Sylvia. You had her before, and I’m sure she satisfied you,” the manager suggested.

Dmitry turned to look at the man, who immediately avoided looking into his eyes.

“Are you questioning me?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the manager replied.

“Then do as I say, now,” Dmitry commanded.

Danica Burke, slender, with brown hair and brown eyes, lived a life that people only read about or saw in movies. Finally, at age twenty, she was out of her stepfather’s home—the house of horror. He never sexually abused her, but he did mentally and physically.

From the age of ten, she was forced to cook and clean and wasn’t allowed to go to school or have friends. Her mother disappeared a long time ago. Her stepfather, Lawrence, a bald, overweight man, was a drunk who tied her to the bed at night so that she couldn’t run away.

The few times she did try to run away, she would be beaten and starved for days. She learned quickly not to talk back or disobey and longed for the day she could be free of him. Little did she know that what she wished for would be her worst nightmare when she was sold to an underground nightclub.

Forced to strip, she knew it was just a matter of time before she was made to work the back room. She was scared, weak, and didn’t want to live, so after being taken to the club, she tried to slit her wrists. But Rudy, the club owner, got there on time and stopped her.

The first night she had to strip, she refused to take off her clothes, earning a beating. She didn’t think that life could get any worse, but then she met him. Dmitry Smirnov was tall, dark, and handsome, with a body that could stop women in their tracks.

But he had this look about him—a cold, evil look that scared the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path. Then, when he made her a ludicrous proposition, she had a big decision to make. But could she go along with it?

It was either take him up on his offer or stay at the club—either way, it could destroy her.