Undressed By The Maf Chapter 45: He Is Getting Impatient

Chapter 45: He Is Getting Impatient

"Are you ready?" Marco asked quietly.

"Can one ever be ready to be sold?"

His jaw tightened. "You are not getting sold tonight. And don’t say it like that."

"Okay," she sighed, tipping her head back against the seat. "Being paraded like cattle then. Oh look at her teeth. Oh let’s see if she is healthy enough for all the fun things we have planned for her." She winced. "Do you think he checks expiration dates?"

"Co on," he muttered. "He is getting impatient."

"God forbid the big bad dog waits a few more minutes." She pushed the door open and stepped out just as Marco did.

Valentina shivered. He resisted the urge to drape his jacket over her shoulders. Bastardi would read that as weakness or possession. Either could cost them.

They walked toward Bastardi together. Marco kept his posture relaxed, shoulders loose, face neutral.

"There is the star girl," Bastardi said enthusiastically, pushing off his car. His smile was wide and hungry.

"I like her," Bastardi continued, eyes roaming without sha.

Marco stepped subtly closer.

Bastardi raised his hands. "Relax. I am a gentleman. Tonight is just a look. A conversation." His gaze flicked back to Valentina. "We get to know each other."

Valentina stood stiffly beside Marco, her chin lifted. Her hands were clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

She didn’t bother giving Bastardi a response.

Marco noticed everything. The way Bastardi’s n spread out just enough to be threatening. The way Bastardi’s eyes lingered too long, asuring, calculating, stripping value into numbers and leverage.

"When did you start checking out rchandise, Bastardi?" Marco asked.

Bastardi smirked.

"Since the last pick up didn’t go so smoothly."

Marco arched a brow in a silent touché.

"So she is a virgin uhn?" Bastardi asked.

Valentina’s jaw locked. She stared straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of flinching.

Bastardi stepped closer.

Too close.

His finger slid down Valentina’s cheek. Her disgust was imdiate and unfiltered. She recoiled, letting out a scoff.

The move earned Bastardi a chuckle.

Then he circled behind her.

Marco saw it coming and still didn’t move fast enough.

Bastardi’s hand grabbed her ass.

"Hey!" Marco snapped.

One of Bastardi’s n shifted, hand brushing his jacket.

"Just checking if everything is still perky," Bastardi said, smiling.

Marco stepped in imdiately, placing himself half a step in front of Valentina. His heart was pounding now, from a very real urge to break Bastardi’s face open on the pavent.

"Until she is in your custody, you will not do anything she doesn’t consent to. Are we clear, Bastardi?" Marco said. "You don’t want to know what Luca would do if he hears about this."

That na did what it always did. Bastardi’s smile tightened, changing shape.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch, Marco," Bastardi replied. "In a few days, I will get the most out of the virgin slut."

Marco didn’t give him ti to enjoy his victory.

"Let’s go, Valentina." He grabbed her wrist.

"I’m not done!"

"Yes! Yes, you are," Marco said firmly, guiding Valentina back toward the car waiting a few paces away.

"Are you...okay?" Marco asked, glancing at her.

Valentina nodded. "I... I think so. Are you going to get in trouble for this?" she asked.

Marco shrugged, running a hand through his bald head. "I don’t know. My boss... he’s unpredictable."

The car door closed. Valentina allowed herself to sink into the leather seat, her mind a maelstrom of what-ifs. Every scenario played out in vivid color: her sister, her own helplessness, the gnawing fear of what she would experience after the auction. But one thought swirled above the rest: Would she ever see her sister again?

*****

Luca’s footsteps hit the floor with the force of a tempest contained. Even Nonnina, normally unflappable, retreated to the kitchen.

He stord through the living room, his jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. His composure was shredded.

She asked

to trust her, Luca thought, the mory of Valentina’s trembling voice and desperate eyes replaying. She begged . Thank God he hadn’t. Thank God he had eavesdropped, silently observing, as the truth unraveled in front of him.

If he hadn’t listened, if he hadn’t known, what would she have done? His stomach turned at the thought. Of course—of course she would have given in. To Cassidy. To the man she craved, the man she believed held her desire in his hands.

And him? What was he to her? A man who rescued her from sacrifices that would have been aningless. Nothing more. And yet... she is mine, he thought, darkly. She was his, whether she realized it or not. She would remain his, a tether to his control, until he decided otherwise.

Luca sank into the chair in his bedroom, tugging his shirt sleeves down over his forearms.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done to ?"

This dance they were always on—the push and pull, the edge of control, the fine line between punishnt and possession. And he would make her pay, in ways that were his alone to decree. She needed to understand what it ant to belong. To him.

No one touches you but . Not ever. And I will remind you of that every single day until you rember it too.

He got to his feet and walked toward the bed where a small bag sat. He pulled out the outfit he had gotten her for tonight’s... lesson. The sheer white dress rested in his hands, delicate and audacious all at once.

Though he had chosen it as a punishnt, a small, sharp thrill ran through him as he held it. He was beginning to wonder who would truly be punished tonight—her, for stepping close to danger, or him, for the storm of feelings she always ignited in him. The dress was tiny, barely enough to veil her in modesty.

Its sheerness promised vulnerability, surrender, and unspoken tension. He moved to the closet to pick up his signature black box. He carefully folded the dress inside.