America. New York City.

"Why the hell do you call me 'a redhead witch'?" I glared at the old man. "I already told you-I don't fuck grandpas," I snapped, storming out of the VIP clubroom.

"Yo! What's up, Micah?" Ricky shouted, trailing behind me as loud rap music blasted from every corner of the club.

"Don't tell me you confessed to Friday again," I say, walking to another hallway, where there are crowds of people dancing and drinking.

"You are the reason why Friday won't say she loves me back."Ricky whistled.

"Well." I stopped on my track, glancing at him. "Her life isn't some fucking boring fiction, you know. Just continue fucking her, and your relationship will go on smoothly. Cut the bullshit called love. Can it even be the name of an animal?" I said with disgust and gave him a purse. "You know who to give the drugs to."

I strolled to the other clubroom, which is less noisy with strippers pole dancing and rich folks laughing and getting lap dances from some slut like me.

"Micah!" Adam called, and I smiled at him as he walked closer to me, then we kissed.

"Hi." I greeted softly, my eyes raised at him, and his hand was on my waist, trailing to my butt.

I'm Micah Taylor. Red hair. Sharp tongue. And a past no girl should carry.

My father is my "manager." That's what he calls it when he hands me off to men who want me in their beds.

It started when I was twenty, after his friend forced himself on me. The same man who'd been eyeing me since I was eighteen. I didn't break that night, but I discovered how cruel the world could be.

I was well compensated with a huge ransom of money, but that didn't stop me from depression.

My mother soon came to know that her husband's friend had done that to me; on her way home to find out from me, she got into a fatal accident, and we needed money for her surgery, but there were no means except my dad's friend, who desired me in exchange for giving us the money for my mum's surgery.

So, I'm now my dad's special trader.

"They have been waiting for you." Adam's hand was finally on my butt, his blue eyeballs were calm against the red light in the clubroom, and I smiled at him.

"Well, I was negotiating with the man I was to fuck tonight. He's dead old!" I cursed, remembering the man I was to have sex with tonight, how come he is not in his andropause yet?

"Did he accept the negotiation? Or he's gonna ask for a refund from your dad?"

"Whatever," I replied, rolling my eyeballs, still in a waist hug with Adam, who has been a client of mine for a year, but we became closer when he introduced me to the drug-dealing business.

"I should go." I kissed his cheek and smiled a little before walking to the men who were seated on the sofa. All are sexually aroused by the lap dances and pole dancing from naked strippers.

Slow sensual music was playing, which made the atmosphere in the room even more erotic.

"Hello, gentlemen," I called with the seductive voice that always has many men bow to me, and my charm was my slender hourglass body and my smile. I used them-smiling seductively as I walked toward a man.

.

.

"Here we are." Adam pulled the car to a stop in front of my dad's house, and I sighed, preparing to alight from his car. "Well... Have you given it a thought? About staying with me a little longer?" He asked, and I glanced at him.

"Hmm." I hummed.

"I'm moving to Sicily soon, and it might be my big chance in this business." He spoke, and I gave a slight shrug. "Are you worried about your dad?" He asked, and I tried to hide my fears with a fake smile.

"No, it's not about him." I lied.

"C'mon, Micah. It's time for you to ask for your fucking freedom and get away from your greedy dad. You can't be making money for him forever." Adam said, and I smiled a little.

"I will see to that. I mean, going to Sicily with you." I promised, and he leaned and kissed my neck.

"Well then, see you tomorrow." Adam bade, and I alighted from his car.

"See you at the club." I bade and watched him drive off before turning to enter my dad's house.

I breathed out when I got closer to the door. I stepped inside and walked to the living room, where I heard my dad's voice speaking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, I will surely send her to you." That was my dad, Mr. Taylor, talking, and I knew it was a client who needed my service. I sat on the sofa until Mr. Taylor showed up with a frown. "What did you do to Mr---"

"He's old." I cut in.

"We are after the money, Micah. Young or old shouldn't get in the way of our business." Mr. Taylor nagged.

"Really? Then I'd better start fucking you so you could provide me a responsible share of what I earn." I cussed with a death glare at him, and he scoffed.

"Should I remind you that your mother is still in a coma?" He pointed out that my mother's health always softened me, especially at times like this when we're about to have a heated argument. "Shall I remind you that it's because of you that she is there?" He rhetorically questioned, and I let out a huff, grasping the sofa tightly. "You better don't fuckin mess up if you still want her treatment to be paid by me, and get your redhead to business. Understood?"

"Yes." I ended up being obedient to his command. "I will not repeat the same mistake."

As much as I hate what I'm saying, I knew I gotta say it for my mother's sake. At least her medical bills are being footed with the money I make sleeping around.

"You will not even have the chance to make the same mistake. Pack up, you're leaving for Sicily first thing tomorrow morning." He announced, leaving me aghast. What happened to Sicily? I am willing to do anything for my mother, surely, but why is this city mentioned again today?

"Buona notte, tesoro." My mother kissed my cheek, and I managed to smile, my brows flickering.

"Goodnight, Mom," I replied, and she watched me walk into my room.

I locked the door behind me when I heard her footsteps which seemed to be leading down the hallway I took a short walk to my closet, unbuttoned my shirt, and threw it onto the bed, I took a black sweatshirt which I wore with a coat before walking to the bookshelf where I pushed the secret button which caused the bookshelf to open revealing the stairs that led down the underground bedroom where I get my pleasure.

The bookshelf closed by itself after I walked through it, climbing down the stairs, and I walked away from the bedroom to the upper stairs.

Sooner, I ended up coming out of the underground door, which was fixed on the floor.

I walked through the back gate and to the car, which must have been waiting for me.

"How's it going?" I asked my right-hand man as soon as I climbed into the Rolls-Royce.

"It's goin' well, sir," Black replied, turning on the engine of the car and speeding to the road.

"Any replies from Mr. Romano?" I asked, looking out the car window.

"He is starting to forget who is in charge," Black replied. "He hasn't gotten in touch for two weeks now."

I smirked in disgust, taking a pack of cigarettes from the map pocket.

I opened it, took a stick, lit it with the lighter I found earlier, and threw it back into the map pocket.

"Turn around," I commanded, and Black gave me a questioning look from the rearview mirror. "Don't take me to the safe house yet." I puffed out a smoke with my mouth.

"To Mr. Romano's house?" Black asked, making a U-turn.

.

Stepping out of the car, I reached for my hat and placed it carefully on my head. It shadowed my face, covering half of my features and keeping me in relative anonymity.

"Seems like a party is going on," I say as Black walks over to me, giving me a pistol.

"It's his 25-year-old daughter's engagement party," Black told me, and I cock the gun, tucking it at the back of my trousers.

"I see there's no need for bloodshed then." I sneered, covering the gun with the coat I was wearing, which stopped at my ankle.

Black led me to the garden, and as we entered it, the sounds of the party grew louder. I could see clusters of people chatting and laughing, their glasses clinking together in a lively toast. Brightly colored lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting the garden in a soft light. A live band was busy playing Italian music on a raised stage while I tried to keep my face away from anyone who must be staring at me because I knew that my outfit was strange.

"Get that reckless politician to me. We'll meet in a secluded place." I commanded myself to walk away from the rather crowded party to a tranquil spot where the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I looked up at the sky while waiting for Black to bring the man who was trying to outsmart me, when he knew that I was the one who made him the successful politician that he is today.

I was still standing and looking at the sky with my hat still covering my head when the ringing of my phone broke the stillness of the night. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone, the light from the screen blinding me for a moment. I answered the call, my voice low and guarded. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Don Sullivan, capo dei capi?" The familiar voice called.

"Yes, doctor Fiore," I answered, tucking my left hand inside my pocket.

"Your parents already agreed on hiring a lady, and they will go with my choice." The doctor said from the phone, and I sighed. A sigh of relief.

"Good job. I will have the lady escorted to you tomorrow. You should bring her to my parents' house thereafter." I raised my head as Black walked toward me with the Baldhead man.

"Yes, sir." Doctor Fiore answered from the phone, and I hung up immediately, putting on my hat.

"Capo dei capi," Mr. Romano said, his voice trembling with fear. He looked at me with surprise.

"You rotten piece of trash," I spat, walking closer to him. He tried to back away, but Black blocked his path. I lashed out, punching him in the face. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose. "You've made a grave mistake by thinking you can get free from me. Seems like you've forgotten I can take all that you have within fuckin minutes." I said, my voice cold and menacing.

"Please forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you. Giuro su Dio!" Mr. Romano pleaded.

"I don't need your fuckin to swear to Christ," I said with distaste, squatting to him. He was still on the ground with Black behind him.

I placed my thumb on his jaw and made him face me; his mouth was shaking, and he had begun to bleed from his nose.

"You know I don't like it when someone tries to betray me," I say, running my thumb on his jaw... "Let's meet tomorrow," I commanded, standing up. "Get yourself cleaned up before someone mistakes you for a common thug. A little less blood on your face might make you look less like a horror movie extra." I said, unsympathetically, wearing my hat.

I walked away with Black following me behind.

We got to the car, and he helped me open the door. "How's the job coming along?" I asked Black, not sparing him a look.

"Successful. Although her father is quite greedy. He had to call some people to bid for her price, and I ended up winning after I proposed a high price." Black replied, standing at my back.

I scoffed. "Really?"

"Yes. He held a private bidding for her hand. She will be in Sicily tomorrow at noon." Black informed me.

"When she arrives, make her know she already belongs to us and see to making sure she will not utter any word about the auctioning to my parents. You know what to do with Doctor Fiore afterward." I said, entering the car, and Black nodded, shutting the car door behind.

"Your mother's condition is stable, but we haven't seen any significant improvement in the last few years." The doctor stated. "I know this isn't the news you were hoping for, but we are still monitoring her closely and are doing everything we can to ensure her comfort." He added.

"Thank you, Doctor," I said with a sigh. The doctor gave me a light squeeze on my shoulder before turning and walking away.

I glanced at my mother, her face obscured by a clear plastic mask that covered her mouth and nose. The mask was connected to a machine that was keeping her alive, and a thin tube ran from the mask to the machine. I was struck by how small and fragile she looked, lying there in the hospital bed. The mask made it hard to see her face, and I found myself wishing I could just see her smile one more time. I reached out and gently touched her hand, feeling the cold plastic of the IV tube that ran from her arm to a bag of fluid hanging above the bed.

"Mother," I called, gritting my teeth, keeping my emotions in check, still, I could feel my eyes stung with the tears that threatened to drop out of my green eyes.

It's been three years since the day she learned that her dad's friend did that act to me. I know that she's been thinking about me constantly since then, and I believe it was that stress that distracted her from the road and led to the car accident. The fact that her injuries were so severe only made the situation even more tragic. I always think about her every day, hoping that she'll recover, but the doctors are saying that it's unlikely. It's hard to accept that I may never see her smile again, that she might never wake up again.

The thought struck me so hard that I couldn't help but cry.

My mother was always a woman with a radiant smile, full of love and warmth. She was the kind of person who could light up a room with her presence. I could always count on her for a hug and a kind word, no matter what I was going through. It's hard to imagine that she'll never be that person again.

I'm willing to go as far as Sicily to save her.

I wiped off my tears and placed a soft kiss on my mother's forehead before walking out of the ward.

"Micah!" Ricky called to follow me out of the hospital.

"Yo? What's up?" I called back to my smiling and feisty self.

"Will you really go to Sicily? At such short notice." Ricky mentioned concern.

"Bro, chill," I say, walking to my car. "It's just a two-month thing," I assured him, just as my crazy father had done the night before.

He had informed me about going to Italy, and I dared not argue, but when I asked why I was going there, he only told me it's a two-month thing, and I should just obey.

Which I always end up doing.

"And Adam?" Ricky asked as I entered my car.

"Inform him about it," I say, igniting the car. "I might as well settle there if I find someone with whom I can do selling drugs." I sped off.

*

*

I climbed out of the airplane, dragging my luggage and breathing in the fresh air of a European country.

It's dawn here with people speaking English more than Italians.

I made my way to the terminal, and soon I was out of the airport.

"Miss Taylor?" An Italian-looking guy asked.

"Yes. And you are?" I asked back.

"Welcome to Sicily." The guy said, making a finger order at some men dressed in black who walked to me, and I looked awkwardly at them. "What's going on here?" I frowned, raising my brows furiously at this man dressed in black all looking like a gangster.

"Weren't you informed?" The guy who ordered the men in black asked, and I gave another questioning frown. "You were auctioned off by Mr. Taylor, and we won the bid." He replied.

As I stood there, speechless and in shock, the words finally registered in my brain. "I was auctioned off?" I asked, still not quite believing what he had just said, and he nodded, and I could feel my head spin, but first I needed to get out of this mess. "Huh... I think you got the wrong person." I tried to fake a smile. "As a matter of fact, I'm not Micah Taylor. I'm just an imposter." I lied, trying to get away from these thug-looking men.

"Well, we will see about that." The guy made a finger command again, and I ended up on one of the men's shoulders.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" I screamed, beating the burly man who was carrying me, but I was the one feeling the pain. "Who the hell is Micah Taylor?" I shouted, unable to wrap my head around what had just happened.

The burly man tossed me into the back of the car, slamming the trunk shut with a loud bang. I felt the dark space closing in around me, and panic started to set in. I pounded my fists against the trunk door, shouting, "Help! Help!" My voice was muffled by the metal of the car, and I knew no one could hear me.

But the realization that my father had put me up for sale like a piece of property had me crying.