Chapter 10
10
T he door doesn’t lead to a foyer, but to a narrow hall. I don’t bother trying to get a better look. Not when all my attention is taken up by the Concierge. They’re a tall white person wearing an expensive three-piece suit that’s been tailored to their lean body. I can’t quite figure out how old they are—somewhere between forty and sixty: old enough to have fine lines on their smooth skin, to look seasoned in a way people in their twenties can’t quite pull off, but not old enough to be affected by age in the slightest.
I can’t begin to guess their thoughts as they look me over. “This way, please.”
The room I’m led to is luxurious and lovely... but there’s a lock on the outside of the door. I’m also divested of my phone and bag. It’s enough to make me doubt, yet again, what I’ve decided to do.
This is beyond playing cat and mouse with a stalker. The first rule of safety is to not go to a secondary location, and I voluntarily boarded a plane and allowed this concierge to lock me in a cell.
“Please sign this.”
I stare at the contract. “Fuck.” It’s huge. Too huge to read through in one sitting, even if my eyes didn’t immediately cross when I had to wade through legalese. We have lawyers on staff for a reason.
The Concierge is unsympathetic. “We cannot move forward until you sign.”
I’m tempted to ask them for a CliffsNotes version, but there’s no reason to trust they’d be telling the truth. “I need to read this.”
“By all means.”
I expect them to leave. They don’t. They sit on the short chair across from me, cross their long legs, and... wait.
My skin heats as I page through the contract. Despite my fear of not understanding, it’s relatively straightforward. The House takes 20 percent of the winning bid on me. I get the rest.
By signing this—by participating in the auction as an item—I am giving consent to whatever the winner wants to do with me. The exceptions are anything that could maim or kill me... which leaves a lot to be desired.
I look at the Concierge. “No safe words?”
“The contract is your safe word.” They smile thinly. “And each room is outfitted with a panic button should such a thing be necessary.”
That’s . . . not how safe words work.
I keep reading. The contract removes House’s responsibility for any harm that befalls me. My only recourse lies in the fact that the three days I’m apparently offering at auction will happen on the premises, which means there will be someone who isn’t Wolf there if things go wrong. In that time, I can cancel the contract and repay the amount I received... for a truly ostentatious fee—an added 30 percent.
If Wolf is the one who wins... He has never hurt me. Scared me, yes, but he’s had plenty of opportunity to do actual harm, and he never crossed that line.
But who knows if Wolf even has money like we’re talking about here? He seems like he’s thought of everything, but what if there’s someone with deeper pockets than him? The security in this place is intense. He can’t kill his way through the crime scions of the East Coast to get to me.
The thought makes me tingle a little. I really am a foolish monster.
I sign before I can talk myself out of it. The Concierge gathers up the contract. “There’s a showing this afternoon before the auction itself. You will be expected to be silent and still for the duration.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard.
The Concierge leaves without another word. The lock clicks a few seconds later. I want to ask why they’re locking me in when I’ve consented to be here and signed the contract, but there’s no one to ask.
My seclusion doesn’t last long. A pair of people arrive and guide me into a different part of the building, where I’m subjected to a number of beauty treatments. A body scrub, a blowout, professional makeup. I thought I took good care of myself, have been called high-maintenance in the past, but this is on another level.
Through it all, they don’t say a word. After the third attempt at getting my questions answered, I give up and just enjoy the fun parts.
Unfortunately that’s when the grim thoughts start circling. Wolf made it sound like tonight he’d claim me publicly, but he might have been lying to keep me complacent. If one of Carver City’s enemies wins me in the auction... if they demand...
I shudder. I’m having regrets. Lots of regrets. Especially when I’m handed what I’m expected to wear for the viewing. “No. Absolutely not.”
The person—they never gave me their name—doesn’t blink. “We don’t have time to argue. Either wear this or wear nothing.”
I stare. Surely they wouldn’t make me go naked... but that’s exactly what they’re saying. Not that the garment hanging from their hands is much better. It’s not what Wolf picked out for me, but it covers just as little. Less, even.
No choice.
I pull on the sheer sheath dress; it’s a deep-emerald shade that makes the most of my lightly tanned skin and long red hair. The person’s hands me a pair of strappy stiletto sandals, and I slide them on with only a grimace of protest.
Then it’s showtime. Or viewing time, apparently.
There are . . . pedestals.
A part of me had assumed that this was specifically a sex auction, but apparently that’s not the case. There are a handful of people perched on pedestals, but there are even more that hold everything from a priceless diamond neckless to famous art to a strange chalice that makes the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end to a fucking flower . Who auctions off a flower?
A cornflower blue dress catches my eye and I nearly trip over my feet when the details register. That dress has adorned Bryson women in at least two presidential inaugurations. Those bitches are like the Kennedys but even more powerful. What the hell is that dress doing here?
I’m not the only person auctioning themselves—or being auctioned off either. There’s a petite blond woman who doesn’t make eye contact as I pass. She’s beautiful. I bet she’ll get a large bid.
I’m led to an empty pedestal near the end of the row and step carefully up to perch on it. There’s not much space, so I won’t be able to shift or even turn if I don’t want to risk falling right off it. It’s only twelve inches from the ground, but that would be humiliating.
Between one breath and the next, the lights drop, bathing the room in darkness. I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep from making a startled sound, but I hear at least a few people let one slip. It makes me feel less alone, even if I can no longer see anyone.
And then the spotlights turn on overhead. This time, I can’t stop myself from flinching. I couldn’t see much to begin with, but with the lights in my eyes, I might as well be onstage. I get the impression of doors opening, hear a murmur of people walking the aisles between us, but I can’t detect more than the faint outline of bodies.
It’s horrible . . . and kind of sexy.
No one tries to touch me. They don’t attempt to interact with me. They just circle my pedestal and talk about me like I’m an object to be purchased.
Which I suppose I am.
Through it all, I concentrate hard, trying to pick a familiar gravelly tone out of the masses. An impossible task. It distracts me, though, at least until a light voice says beside me, “Would you look at that hair. I’d love to have it wrapped around my fist.”
A lower voice chuckles. “I bet you would.” There’s a hint of a Russian accent there. “But this one isn’t for you, love. I hear the Wolf has his eye on her. You know better than to get between that one and his prey.”
I turn my head in the direction of the voices, opening my mouth to question why they know my Wolf, but it’s too late, they’re moving away. Even knowing it’s a terrible idea, I almost step down and go after them. I thought Wolf was a name I made up for him, one to give a cheeky nod to his reference to my being Little Red Riding Hood. If other people call him that, does it mean he’s done this before?
Wolf promised I’d get my answers tonight at the auction, so I’ll just have to ask him when I see him. Besides, I signed the contract. It’s too late to back out now.
More, I don’t want to back out.
My parents are going to kill me when they find out what I’ve done. I push the thought away and focus on getting through the next however long. People keep coming and coming; some don’t bother to pause near me, intent on other prizes, but others do.
They comment on my breasts, my hair, my ass. Some of the bolder ones even speculate on what my pussy tastes like.
I pass the time by fantasizing about what Wolf would do to them if they tried to find out for themselves. It would be bloody and violent, and when he came to me afterward, evidence of violence all over him, he’d fuck me harder than I’ve ever been fucked.
Slowly, so slowly that I almost don’t notice, the last of the attendees file out of the space. The lights come up, and I’m left blinking and disorientated.
A different person than the one who’s spent the day corralling me about appears, dressed in the same expensive black clothing. “This way, please.”
I’m led through yet another set of doors and to a small dressing room. There, my makeup is retouched, my hair smoothed, and my body shimmied into the dress Wolf provided, my feet strapped into the sky-high heels.
The last one felt indecent; this one is an invitation. It’s just as over-the-top as I’d suspected. I stare at myself in the mirror—at my rosy nipples on display, at the hint of my slit between my thighs, all framed with gorgeous inlaid pearls.
With my hair down in careless waves and my makeup kept mostly natural, I look like some kind of sea nymph that just rose from the ocean spray.
One that wants to fuck.
“Please wait here until someone comes for you. They’ll bring you out to the stage where the bidding will take place and then bring you back here to reside until the auction ends and the details of payment are finalized. You will meet the winner in the room they book after all that’s done.”
My stomach feels hollow in a way that has nothing to do with hunger. This is happening. There’s no going back now. Maybe there wasn’t from the moment I got that first text message. Earlier, even.
“Okay,” I manage.
The person smiles. “We handle these things with the utmost care. Your payment will be deposited in the account you provided us before you leave this room.”
“It’s too bad I’m not a virgin. I’d make a killing.”
They laugh a little. “You’d be surprised. Some of our clients’ tastes run to the untouched, but plenty of them prefer a partner who knows what they like and is willing to experiment.”
Experiment.
The word sends a zing right through me. “Right. Well, I guess that’s me.”
“I’ll be back when it’s time.”
Once again, I’m left alone with my own thoughts. This time, though, there are none to speak of. I sit numbly and wait for my turn, wait for my fate.
It might be an hour or mere minutes later that my door opens and the Concierge appears. Their expression is just as professionally blank as ever. “It’s time.”
I don’t see another soul as they lead me down the hallway and into another new part of the building. I half expected them to have converted the viewing room into the stage, but I should have known better. It’s peak rich people to have an entire fucking theater in their basement. I suppose I can’t throw stones considering what family I was born into, but it’s honestly ridiculous.
And maybe I’m just trying to distract myself from the reality that I’m about to be auctioned off and that I have absolutely no control over who wins the bid. I either trust Wolf or I don’t. Maybe it’s the height of foolishness that I do, but I cling to the memory of the stranger from the viewing.
The Wolf has his eye on her. You know better than to get between that one and his prey.
If that person knew it, then maybe others do too. Maybe there won’t even be a bidding war. Maybe I’m building this up in my head and it will be downright disappointing.
The Concierge stops just in front of a large doorway that stretches into darkness. “The stage is through here. Walk to the other doorway and wait to be summoned.”
A bolt of fear makes me forget my attempt at bravery. “You’re leaving?”
“I have other auction items to retrieve. Go.” They turn and walk away.
There’s nothing to do but walk through the doorway and into the shadows. There’s a piece of clothing carefully draped over a chair nearby, and I can’t help shifting to it. My eyes go wide when I recognize the Bryson inauguration dress. Why’s it just sitting here? Shouldn’t it be on stage right now, securing bidders? Maybe the original owner changed their mind.
I could probably back out and beg for them to release me from the contract. But my pride won’t let me. Guilt rises, and I shift from foot to foot. My pride. What a joke. I should be focused on doing this for Luke, to keep him safe, but all I’ve had my mind on is Wolf.
You really are a selfish bitch, aren’t you?
Yeah. I really am.
I lift my chin, take a deep breath, and charge through the doorway. Three steps in, I realize the space isn’t as dark as it looked from the outside. There’s a faint light coming around a corner, and a hush of whispers reaches me as I get closer.
“Sold! For a dollar to the man of the hour. Me.” A crooning voice makes my skin go tight. It’s as if sex was bottled into sound. He laughs, low and sinful. “You had a choice.”
I stop just inside a second doorway and look out into a large room. It’s hard to see because of the lighting—a theme in this place. I catch sight of a lean white woman with long dark hair walking down the steps on the other side of the stage, her head bowed and her fists clenched. She’s not wearing anything but her skin.
Suddenly I feel downright overdressed.
Wait, did she just sell herself for a dollar?
I’m so distracted by the sight of her bare ass and the low price tag that I completely missed the other person on the stage. He’s not naked, but there’s something about him that suggests sex in a much more over-the-top way than the naked woman. He’s a white man dressed in low-slung leather pants and little else, his long white-blond hair pulled into a bun with parts braided, a ring glinting on his sensual lower lip.
He turns and finds me unerringly. “Don’t be shy, love. Come show the people what they came to purchase.” He’s already turning again without waiting to see whether I’ll obey. “Our next auction item is something quite special. Not a virgin, so don’t get your hopes up there. I have it on... good... very good... authority that she gets down and dirty and loves being bad.”
I step onto the stage, and my lungs shrivel in my chest. I’m not a coward, but I’m achingly aware of the way my pussy and breasts are on display, the way everyone present can see me and imagine and... I shiver, and I’m not entirely certain if it’s with fear or desire.
“That’s right, we have Carver City’s very own Ruby Belmonte, the heir to the Belmonte territory.” The man smiles, flashing perfect teeth, and motions me closer. “She’s been a good little mafia princess for a very long time, so much so that I myself wondered why she’d darken our doors.” He casts a wicked smile to the audience, which is bathed in shadows. “And yet here she is, prime for the plucking.”
I don’t quite make the decision to set my hand in his. It simply happens by virtue of his magnetism. If I weren’t dead set on a certain man in a mask, I might be dropping my nonexistent panties just from standing next to this guy.
He gives me a twirl that ends with my back to his chest... though I notice that he very carefully keeps his hips away from my ass, not taking the opportunity to grind on me.
He releases my hand to catch my chin and bare my throat while bending me back against him and putting my body on display. “Now, look at this delicious little thing, wandered into our midst. She may think she’s been bad, but we know the truth. She’s barely dipped her toes in sin, and it’s someone’s lucky day because they get to show her exactly how depraved we can be.”
The lights haven’t gotten brighter, but I’m half-convinced they’re spotlighting my nipples, due to the heat gathering there and at my clit.
Who knew that being on display was one of my kinks? Not me.
“How lovely she blushes.” He laughs, low and a little mean. “I bet her ass will redden prettily under the right hand. Let’s start the bidding at a quarter of a million dollars.”
Someone with a light musical voice calls out, “Make it three hundred.”
“Darling, look how eager you have them. No minimum bid for this sweet little pussy.” He lifts his voice a little. “But we can do better than that. Let’s hear three fifty.” It’s practically a command.
I had no idea bidding would start so high. Sure, my family may have a fortune stashed in the vault, but it’s not like normal people have access to hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Does Wolf? Who could he possibly be to have access to the kind of money these people are throwing around?
While I’m ruminating, the bids climb quickly. Four hundred. Five hundred. Holy shit.
The auctioneer gives me a slow smile. “You’ve got them by the throat, love.” He’s not exactly trying to be quiet, but he’s not pronouncing these words to everyone. “I bet we can get them to a million if you turn around and bend over, just a bit. Give them a good look at what they’re getting.” He lowers his face a little, until it’s almost kissably close. “We both know you’re getting off on this. Let them see how much.”
He’s right.
My pussy is practically dripping. The voices have been calling out too fast, speaking too quickly, for me to be sure one of them is Wolf. I turn around, slowly and with a little extra swivel in my hips. As if on cue, slow, sensual music starts from somewhere.
The auctioneer whistles. “Looks like we’re in luck. We get a little preview. Can I hear five fifty?”
I bend in time with the music, and I swear I actually hear the collective inhale as the icy, air-conditioned air strokes my pussy.
“One million.” The voice is low with a hint of rasp, a hint of accent, and it strikes me right in my core. I know that voice. I’ve spent days taunting its owner, have spent hours fantasizing about just what filthy things he’ll say to me when it’s finally just us without all the games.
Wolf . My spine snaps straight, and I turn around. “Sold,” I blurt.
The auctioneer laughs. “Someone’s eager, but the bidding isn’t over until it’s over. Can I get a million five?”
“Another person makes a bid and I’m putting a bullet in their brain, Reaper.”
The auctioneer—Reaper—drops his seduction act and goes cold. “Don’t threaten my guests, Wolf. You want her? Bid the highest. Otherwise it’s not my other guests who will be getting a bullet to the brain. This is neutral territory, and everyone here is enjoying my hospitality... as long as they obey the rules. So obey them.”
The silence stretches and then keeps stretching, the threat lying heavy in the air. No one makes a sound. Reaper curses softly. “So be it. Our lovely Ruby Belmonte goes to the Mad Wolf. Good luck, love. You’re going to need it.”