BOUGHT: Age Gap Mafia Romance, page 1
BOUGHT
SHANNA HANDEL
CONTENTS
Welcome to the BOUGHT Trilogy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Forbidden Love: Blaze’s Obsession
Also by Shanna Handel
Pretty Please with a cherry!
WELCOME TO THE BOUGHT TRILOGY
An NYC mafia billionaire's scandalous purchase evolves into an obsessive romance with a young virgin, filled with secrets, betrayal, and a fiery connection that can't be ignored.
I bought her innocence. Now I need to make her mine.
One night. No names. No strings.
Just a contract: her V-card for my cash.
And we never see one another again.
She knows my rules.
I punish disobedience.
I demand surrender.
I’ll ruin her because I don’t do mercy.
I do control.
And now I’ll do anything to keep her.
No names. No strings. No panties.
He wants my V-card.
I need his cash.
One night. One mafia billionaire boss.
A simple plan.
We need help. I signed a contract.
One naughty transaction.
I’ll be able to save my family.
And I’ll never see him again.
The man who wins my bid is older, ice-cold, gorgeous.
He has rules, demands submission, and punishes disobedience.
You don’t fall in love with a man like Lucian Bachman.
You survive him.
Bought Series
Shanna Handel
Book 1: Bought
Book 2: Betrayed
Book 3: Bound
Shanna Handel
Copyright © 2025 Shanna Handel
All rights reserved.
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CHAPTER ONE
Erin
I can’t remember the last time I left my apartment this late on a Saturday night. The air slices through me like a blade; icy, sharp, and merciless. Each step I take echoes against the dimly lit sidewalk, reminding me I’m an outsider.
That I’m entering a world where I don’t belong.
And meeting a man that a girl like me is never supposed to cross paths with.
I think of Ryan, my shield against the fear. The image of his angelic face anchors me, reminding me why I’m out so late, walking alone down an unfamiliar street, and headed into the danger of the unknown.
Not for myself. For him. For them.
This deal could save us. And break me. I can only allow myself to focus on the first part. Otherwise, I’ll turn around and walk my popsicle-self right back home.
Cozy on the couch watching true crime mysteries with Cass instead of feeling like I’m living in one. The innocent virgin walks alone through the city, heading to meet a strange man. One who will surely ruin her.
My phone glows as I recheck the screen. I don’t need to. I know the address. I’ve stared at it so many times it’s carved into the back of my eyelids.
Fifteen Bachman Avenue.
My pulse kicks up as the phone rings, the sound loud and jarring. I fumble it in my hand, breath catching, heart galloping. I press it to my ear before the second ring ends.
“Cass?” My words are a breathless rasp. “Is Ryan okay?”
Her upbeat tone replies, “Depends.”
My heart stops. “What do you mean?”
“He’s taken my turn on the iPad and eaten all my ice cream. Didn’t you, Rye-Rye?”
Peals of his laughter come over the phone.
Instantly, I relax. “Don’t let him stay up too late.”
Cass fakes a sigh. “Okay, but it’s Saturday night! We can sleep in tomorrow.”
“Still…a schedule is best.”
“Hang on, Rin.”
“Okay.” Clutching the phone, my eyes dart around the street. I’m not used to being out this late.
I hear Cass in the background, asking Ryan to take her ice cream dish to the kitchen so we can talk.
“We’re totally fine, here,” she whispers. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
“I’d be a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t made me watch that Manson Murders documentary last night,” I hiss.
My eyes shift to the dark alley on my left, scanning for hidden serial killers.
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Cass laughs. “I’m just warming you up for the Ted Bundy one.”
I murmur into the phone, “Why do you insist on watching this rubbish, when we’re living our own nightmare?”
“Everyone else seems to have a white-picket love story. Crime shows make me feel less alone.”
I instantly regret teasing her. “There were no white picket fences where we come from,” I remind her. “We’re not the Royals.”
“I guess you’re right,” she whispers.
“I know I am,” I confirm. “Happily Ever After doesn’t exist for girls like us.”
A silence hangs between us. A pregnant pause that’s been surfacing between us a lot lately as we both reflect on the hell we’ve endured.
And the risk of what I’m about to do.
Finally, she asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah. Course I am.” Am I? I’m really scared right now and freezing. I force confidence into my words. “I’ll call you right after.”
“K.”
“K.”
The hollow pause comes back, conveying everything left unspoken…
We have no options left. This is it.
I want to tell Cass I love her, but the words won’t come out. Our family doesn’t show emotions. Feelings are weakness. And in the forgotten corner of Northern England where Cass and I are from, weakness gets you killed.
Parts of this city are no different.
Locking my phone, I grip it tight, my only weapon against Ted Bundy II.
I need to succeed tonight. Everything depends on this meet-up. My future, Cass’s future, and most importantly for both Cass and me, Ryan’s future. I pull the coat even tighter to soothe myself.
Remembering my current read, the one that tells me to demand from the universe what I want, I murmur to myself, “It’s a simple plan. Tonight will go perfectly—”
Something dark darts across my path, and I’m going down. My heart lurches into my throat. I grab the wall, stopping just short of falling flat on my face.
I steady myself, my hand going to my chest. “Okay…what was that?”
Instead of Charles Manson, a small, scruffy, black dog looks up at me from beneath a thick, tangled fringe, as if I’m the one who disturbed him.
Sympathy tugs at me.
“I’d love to take you home,” and feed him, bathe him, brush those knots from his fur, “but Cass is allergic.”
Giving me a dismissive sniff, he scurries off down an alley.
I turn the corner, finally reaching Bachman Avenue.
My feet stop. So does my heart. I stand, staring. The area is nothing like I remember. Where are the stores, the jewelers, the beautiful people? The historical brownstone buildings, the thick gates to keep us out?
The block is…gone.
Just gone.
If an entire block of buildings was wiped out of the Upper East Side, wouldn’t there have been a news story about it?
But these are the Bachmans. They value their privacy and can buy whatever they want.
I’d been told about the attack, but I never imagined the damage would be such complete devastation.
I want to turn around, go home, and not get more involved than I already am.
My phone screen lights up. Cass and Ryan’s faces smile back at me. I need to do this. I know I can.
Everything will be okay...
My words don’t convince me, but still, I press on.
A man with a bald head and a thick, tattooed neck stands waiting for me. Not the refined mafia boss I’m here for. This guy is meatier, harder, even colder-looking than the person I’ve come here for.
His gaze has me prickling with chill bumps, as he seems to take in every hair on my head, each inch of my body down to the toes of my high-heeled boots.
This man has a look I don’t like, and he’s still staring at me. Something about him finally convinces me I can’t do this.
The last thing my desperate little trio needs right now is for me to become a plus one for the city’s homicide rate.
I turn on the heel of my boot, quickly moving back the way I came.
Bootsteps. Behind me. Coming fast.
My heartbeat races to match the thumps hitting the sidewalk as they
My stomach lurches to my throat. Run. Fast.
“Wait!” he shouts. “Erin.”
My heart stops before my feet. Why does he know my name?
Out of fight or flight, I choose freeze.
I slowly turn back to face him. My whispered words are carried off by a cold gust of wind. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about you.” His intense gaze locks onto mine.
I steady the rising fear from creeping in. “Why are you following me?”
He gives me a grimace. He must think it passes for a grin. What he says next sends a river of ice rushing through my bloodstream.
A gold tooth flashes. “There is no Fifteen Bachman Avenue.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lucian
I pace the floor like a caged animal, blood thrumming with anticipation and a restless need that makes me reckless. This part always feels the same. The air clouds with tension and my blood runs primal.
Beneath the ritual of the deep-grooming shower, crisp white button-down, and tumbler of whisky to steady my nerves, tonight feels different. There’s a sharpness to it. An edge the drink hasn’t touched.
I tell myself I’m just waiting for release. When the itch becomes too intense to ignore, I call the agency and place an order. We have a good night, endorphins will flood my system, and I’ll send her away with no trace remaining.
Just another transaction, clean and forgettable.
Then back to work, focused and ready for battle.
But I asked for a virgin.
And I can’t stop asking myself why.
I pay for women who understand the rules and don’t confuse the pleasure with anything more than business. No names. No questions. No strings. Just body heat that causes combustion, followed by the calming effects of warm embers.
It’s always been enough.
Until now.
Our Bachman world is in turmoil. Blaze and I are the only two left here to save it, and under that pressure, even the most perfect smiles feel dull lately. The compliments? Empty. The practiced moans? Annoying. They seem rehearsed, and I start to feel like a ghost in my own room.
I made a stupid decision.
With the Morettis tightening their grip on the city, my focus should be on war. On strategy. On survival. But the itch under my skin has spread too deep and turned into something raw and burning.
So, I decided to try someone younger and less experienced; a wildcard. I already know it was a mistake, but she’s on her way.
And it’s too late to turn back.
I wait with a pit in my stomach, because what if an innocent, naive virgin doesn’t understand the rules? I clearly wrote everything out for the agency, and they had her sign it. But I don’t know what to expect when that door opens.
Mack knocks twice.
“Come in.”
My bodyguard opens the door, standing to the side to reveal her.
There’s nothing vulnerable about her makeup-free expression; instead, she looks like a warrior. Chin held high. Her bright blue eyes are sharp and focused. Dark hair falls past her shoulders.
When she steps over the threshold, she hesitates. Not for long. Only a beat. Enough for me to notice. Enough for me to care.
Not only do I want to see more of her body, but I’m offended by the inadequacy of her coat in this weather. “Take your coat off.” My words are quiet but with an edge.
She does. Slowly.
Eyes on mine, she unfastens the belt at her waist, slides her arms out of the sleeves, and lets the coat fall to the ground, creating a ring of gray wool that forms a moat around her shiny black high heels.
She leaves it where it lies.
She’s wearing a simple black dress that accentuates her curves. Her strong nose tilts slightly to the left; possibly broken at some point and left to heal naturally. Her blue eyes dart around the room.
This isn’t the innocent, naive prey I ordered.
She’s a fighter.
“You’re not what I expected,” I tell her.
Her gaze narrows at me. When she speaks, her voice is another surprise, raspy with a naturally sultry edge that feels effortless. I feel the sound in my core.
“You either,” she says.
“How so?” I ask.
“Older,” she says bluntly. And I am older than her, by a decade at least. “I thought you’d be a pretty playboy.”
“Am I too ugly for you?” I smirk.
“God, no!” she breaths. I want to smile at her honest enthusiasm. She cools back off, controlling her tone, “You’re handsome.”
She keeps a neutral, controlled facial expression. Not because she's nervous, just wired.
Like she’s made from instincts and scar tissue.
“Come in?”
She nods.
Mack leaves us, closing the door behind us, leaving us alone.
A long-buried emotion flickers in my core. Excitement.
She steps forward, leaving the coat behind. She moves carefully, as if she knows how to run if needed and has already checked the exits.
Smart.
She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t play coy. She just crosses her arms.
“You read my rules.”
“Oh yeah.” She eyes me. “I read your rules.”
“Good,” I say.
“And I have some feedback.”
For the first time on one of these nights, I’m speechless.
Her arms tighten around her as she goes all business. It’s fucking sexy.
“The no kissing one, I agree with completely,” she states. “But as for no panties, sorry, it’s too ungodly cold out for that.”
“If you read my rules, then you know my consequences.”
Ignoring my challenge, she holds her ground.
“As I said, I read your rules.” Her gaze is fire. “Now hear mine.”
Damn.
“One hour. No kissing, as previously stated. Condom, obviously. And I don’t do anything degrading or dangerous.”
“Define dangerous,” I say.
“If you’re into knife play, I walk.”
The retort slips out before I can stop it. “You’re in the wrong room if you think I need weapons to make you feel pain.”
Something shifts in her gaze. Not fear, but recognition. Then she looks away, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
“You’ve already earned a consequence.” I eye her thighs. “If you are, in fact, wearing panties under that sexy dress.”
“I’m sure you’re dying to see.”
Her words are calm, held together. But I see the uptick of her pulse, thrumming in that sweet curve of her neck, a spot I want to nip with my teeth, mark with my mouth.
A heatwave is crawling from my core and rising to my chest. Is she one of my kind? Does she like her pleasure doused with pain? I have to know. I need to find out.
And I only have one hour to do it.
“You follow my rules, I follow yours,” she replies calmly, arms still crossed, no drama, no flirting. Just steel. “We both get what we need. Then, we never see each other again.”
She’s not broken.
She’s sacrificing.
And something deep inside me, long buried, responds to that. I should give her the money and send her away. Call it my good deed for the day. But I can’t. The woman—here to be under my control—has power over me.
I want her to stay.
“Take off your dress,” I say. “Let’s see what’s underneath.”
Her arms remain crossed over her chest. “You first.”
My lips twitch. “I’m not wearing a dress.”
“Haha,” she counters. “You know what I mean.”
I haven’t smiled genuinely on one of these nights. She’s charming me, though. Adorable even. Breaking down walls I thought were indestructible.
“This isn’t how it works,” I say.
“Maybe not for your typical kind of girl.”
Her accent surprises me. The city influence is there, but there’s something proper behind it. British, but she’s been here for a while.
“You think I’ve done this before?”
“You’re a regular,” she smirks. “One of their best customers.”
Heat prickles over the back of my neck. The agency is discreet. And so am I.
“How do you know that?” I narrow my gaze.
I can’t read the look that’s passing over her face. She shrugs and looks away. “A lucky guess.”
“You don’t come here to run the show. You read my profile so you should know my first rule. You come here to do what I tell you.”
