Chapter 2
Dez
F riday arrived faster than I expected. I stood in the VIP section of the ballroom now transformed into something between a Venetian fantasy and a fever dream as I watched the crowd filter in.
Everyone wore masks.
Gianna's idea, naturally. She'd decided that a traditional masquerade would add an element of mystery to the evening. "More fun when you don't know who you're bidding on until after," she'd said with that wicked smile of hers. "Makes people braver. More honest."
I adjusted my own mask—black leather, simple, covering the upper half of my face—and surveyed the results of her planning.
The ballroom was draped in deep burgundy and gold, candles flickering on every surface, creating shadows that danced like the bodies on the dance floor.
Crystal chandeliers had been dimmed to create intimacy.
The stage at the front was set up like something from an old European opera house, complete with velvet curtains, read for the auction.
Gianna had been right about the guest list. These weren't uppity people who showed up to mob events hoping to catch some rich desperate victim’s attention. They moved differently. Carried themselves with confidence and hunger mixed with something darker.
I nursed my whiskey and waited. The auction wouldn't start for another hour. Time to circulate, to observe, and to hunt. I scanned the crowd, looking for... something. I'd know it when I saw it. Instead I was met with a bunch of women whose presence was either too much or too little. Slutty or conservatively boring. I didn’t know what the perfect person would look like, but I did know what it didn’t.
Completely sold that whoever she was, she wasn’t here.
Until…
She stood near the back wall, alone, champagne glass in hand. While everyone else clustered near the stage, preening and positioning themselves, she held herself apart. Watching. Thinking.
Her mask was gold and intricate with delicate filigree that made her look like a gilded goddess. It covered her eyes and the bridge of her nose but left her mouth bare, and what a mouth it was. Full lips painted deep red, curved in the faintest hint of amusement as she observed the crowd.
Her dress was midnight blue silk that clung to curves that made my mouth go dry. Black hair swept up to expose the elegant line of her neck, a few tendrils framed her face.
But it was the way she held herself that captivated me. That perfect posture of hers warring with the wonder in her eyes. The way her gaze tracked across the room like she was cataloging everything, filing it away for later consideration.
She was looking for something. Maybe someone. Before I fully registered the decision, I was moving toward her, drawn by an instinct I didn't question. She didn't notice me until I was close enough to speak.
"Not a fan of the entertainment?"
She turned, and even with the mask covering half her face, I felt the impact of her gaze and it drew me closer.
"I prefer my objectification a little less literal," she said, her voice warm and cultured with the faintest hint of seduction underneath.
Fuck even her voice was perfect.
"Fair enough." I moved to stand beside her, close enough to catch her scent—vanilla and something sweet with a bite.
I hated when women smelled like fruit and cake flavors.
This was warmer, darker, and a little spicy but so damn feminine.
"Although I suppose there's something refreshingly honest about it. No pretense. Just raw transaction."
"Is that what you're here for?" She turned to face me fully, tilting her head. "A transaction?"
"Depends on what's being offered."
"And what would it take to interest you?" The question was light, teasing, but there was real curiosity underneath. I liked the playfulness in her tone, and the challenge she presented without underlined feigned innocence.
"Someone who doesn't bore me." I let my gaze travel over what I could see of her face, committing it to memory. "Someone who can hold a conversation and look good enough to devour while doing it."
"How diplomatic." She took a sip of champagne, and I watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. "Most men would have just said 'someone hot.'"
"I'm not most men."
"No?" She smiled, and it transformed her entire face. "What makes you so special?"
"I pay attention." I gestured to her with my glass. "You're not just here to watch. You're participating."
Her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. "What makes you think that?"
"The way you're standing. The way you keep glancing at that doorway that leads backstage.
And the fact that you're alone." I moved closer, lowering my voice.
"Everyone else came in groups. Couples. People who are here to watch and bid.
But you came solo. Which means you're either very brave or very desperate. "
"Maybe I'm both."
"Are you?"
She studied me for a long moment, her eyes assessing me. "Maybe I just like the idea of letting someone else be in control for a night. Maybe I work very hard at a very demanding job, and the thought of surrendering that control to someone competent is..."
"Intoxicating?"
"I was going to say necessary." She finished her champagne and set the flute on a passing server's tray. "But intoxicating works too."
My dick was already hardening. This woman—whoever she was behind that mask—was exactly what I'd been looking for without knowing it.
"What's your number?" I asked after the lights flickered, signaling the auctioneers.
"My number?"
"Your participant number. For the auction."
She laughed, the sound low and genuinely amused. "You think I'm just going to tell you that? Where's the fun in that? Besides, if you’re as observant as you say, you shouldn’t need me to tell you."
"The fun is in knowing which woman to bid on."
"Then I guess you'll have to pay very close attention so you don’t make a mistake." She stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body. "Tell me something. If you win me—if you figure out which one I am and you place the winning bid—what would you do with me?"
The question was bold. Brazen. And it made every dominant instinct I had roar to life.
"That depends," I said, my voice dropping to something rough. "On how well you follow instructions."
"I follow them very well." Her eyes never left mine. "When they come from someone who's earned the right to give them. Otherwise, I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"And how does someone earn that right?"
"By proving they know what they're doing.
" She reached up, adjusted my mask slightly even though it didn't need adjusting.
The touch was brief but deliberate. "By showing me they can read what I need before I have to ask for it.
Commanding both of our desires effortlessly.
By being confident enough to take control without being cruel about it. "
"Unless you want cruel."
"Unless I want cruel," she agreed. "Which I sometimes do from the right person. Again, be who you say you are."
I was going to lose my mind before this night was over.
She had my hands itching to grab her and show her what all this sassy behavior was going to get her.
I wasn’t talking about just a sore ass and full pussy.
That was child’s play. Instead, my darkness wanted to tame hers.
Put us both in a headspace that would allow us to cater to one another’s needs even if neither of us touched the other.
"Give me something," I said. "A hint. Something that will help me find you when you're up there."
She considered this, her head tilted in thought. "I'll be wearing black lace."
"Half the women here will probably wear black lace."
"Then I guess you'll have to bid on all of them to be sure." Her smile turned wicked. "Unless you're very, very observant like you say."
"I am. And… I’ll accept that challenge of choosing only you."
"We'll see." She started to turn away, then paused. "One more thing."
"What's that?"
"If you do win me—if you figure it out and you place that bid—don't go easy.
Don't hold back because you're worried about scaring me or pushing too hard.
" She met my eyes, and I saw steel behind the heat.
"I'm here because I want someone who isn't afraid of what I want.
Someone who'll give it to me exactly as rough as I need it.
The person who wins me needs to embrace who they are to claim me properly. "
Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd as if she were never here, leaving me standing there with my heart racing and my mind spinning in wonder.
Black lace was all I had to go on. Well, and a voice that would haunt my dreams and a body I was already desperate to get my hands on. Hips that swayed as she walked, drawing my eyes to every step that she took.
I pulled out my phone and texted Gianna.
My darling sister
How many participants are there tonight?
12 total. 9 women, 3 men. Why?
Just curious.
Nine women. One of them was her. One of them was going to be mine by the end of the night. Her.
The coordinator's voice rang out across the ballroom, announcing that the auction would begin in fifteen minutes. The crowd started moving toward the seating area, excitement building in the air.
I took my place in the VIP section, positioned so I'd have a clear view of the stage.
And I waited. ready to hunt.
The first three participants weren't her. I knew it immediately. They were the wrong height, wrong build, wrong energy. They were beautiful, and they went for good money, but they weren't the woman in the gold mask who'd touched my face and told me not to hold back.
Number four walked out in red lace. Not her. Number five in black but was too old. Not her. Number six?—
I sat forward.
Black lace. The right height. Black hair, though styled differently now, pinned up with small gold jewelry that caught the light.
She moved across the stage with confidence, her mask still in place, her body displayed in a corset that left very little to the imagination, that fucking sway of hers that drew my eyes to her long legs.
A black lace thong… A whistle escaped between my lips. Hot damn she was beautiful.
But it was the way she held herself that confirmed it. Her posture I'd noticed before. The way she scanned the crowd like she was looking for someone specific.
Looking for me.
Our eyes met across the distance, and even with the masks, I knew she recognized me. I saw the small smile play on her lips.
"Participant number six," the auctioneer announced. "Thirty-eight years old, preference for dominant partners, and a very impressive list of interests including bondage, impact play, pain and pleasure, sensory deprivation, humiliation, and forced orgasms."
My hands tightened on the armrests. That was definitely her, but Thirty-eight where? She didn’t look a day over twenty-six.
"We'll start the bidding at twenty-five thousand dollars."
I waited. Let other people bid first. Watched the number climb—fifty, seventy-five, one hundred thousand. Then I raised my paddle.
"One hundred and fifty thousand," I said clearly.
The room went silent. The woman on stage, my mystery woman, stared directly at me. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes wide. Was she shocked? Did she think that our fun was already over?
"One hundred and fifty thousand!" the auctioneer called out. "Do I hear one sixty?"
"One seventy-five." Some idiot on the other side of the room who didn't know when to quit.
I didn't hesitate. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even the auctioneer looked shocked.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand! That's—ladies and gentlemen, that's a new record for this event." He scanned the crowd eagerly. "Do I hear two sixty?"
Silence. No one was stupid enough to challenge that bid.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand going once." Pause. "Going twice." Longer pause. "Sold! To bidder number nineteen!"
The applause was deafening, but I barely heard it. All I could see was her, still standing on that stage, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes locked on mine with a mixture of shock and anticipation and something that looked like relief.
I'd found her. Claimed my prize. And now she was mine. She'd better be ready, because as promised, I wasn't going to take it easy on her.