Chapter Two
Grayson
What the fuck was that?
I’m still reeling from the scene in the parking lot as I walk toward the main entrance of the chapel.
The young woman had been strikingly gorgeous, even as her face twisted in fear. I noticed her with the guard the moment I stepped out of my car. She clearly didn’t want to be here, and when he grabbed her, my protective instincts had flared to life. When her bright hazel eyes met mine, it was as if she was begging me for help, and I longed to give it.
It took my many years of discipline and Damien’s firm hold on my bicep to keep me from striding through the parking lot and slamming my fist into the guard’s face.
I have heard of the things that go on in this chapel. A club where lowlife businessmen can make dark deals, and a high-end brothel. Beautiful women available as entertainment for the evening.
Due to my wealth and business contacts, I’ve received invitations, of course. But I’ve avoided the place until now—I have no interest in such things, no need to pay a woman to spend time with me.
But then I overheard Connor Grant—my biggest competitor in the real estate business, and an arrogant asshole—whispering into his phone the other day after a meeting. “He’s offering his sister as payment? Get confirmation…virgin. The chapel…”
While I didn’t hear everything, and didn’t know exactly who he was talking to, I’d heard enough. Enough to give me a sick suspicion that the women at the chapel aren’t the well-paid escorts I assumed them to be.
I knew it was time for me to look into this chapel, and find out whether the women who work here are even here of their own free will. So I enlisted the help of my private investigator friend, Damien Hart.
Damien has also heard the vile rumors about the chapel and the business that takes place here. He convinced me that if we were to attend tonight’s event, we’d need to commit to the act—as potential buyers.
Apparently that includes not standing up for the woman in the parking lot, and allowing her to be mistreated. My fists are still clenched, and I can’t erase the image of her face from my mind. I swear to myself that I will get to the bottom of whatever is going on here.
I have no business here otherwise.
“Fucking bastards,” I mutter under my breath as we follow a group of well-dressed sleazebags into the building.
Damien lets out a dry chuckle beside me. “If you don’t want to be here, then maybe you shouldn’t do business with the people who come here,” he says as we draw closer to the entrance.
“Those two things have nothing to do with each other,” I reply, my tone hard as the memory of the frightened woman fills my mind.
Why the hell do I care so much about someone I’ve never met before? Why are her terror-filled eyes haunting my soul?
“Look, I’m going to look around a bit, and I have a contact to meet with. I’ll join you later if I finish on time,” Damien says. I nod, watching him slink away to the side of the building and blending into the darkness.
I enter a large room with a stage along one end, velvet red curtains draped above it, and I soon spot Connor Grant at the other end of the room.
Smug bastard.
He seems to be enjoying himself, already several drinks in, and I have to tamp down on the urge to walk over and wipe the smirk off his face.
I locate a place to sit near the back. Each chair has a small table that holds a buzzer and a small mic. I lean back in my seat, suspicion growing. This is like no brothel I’ve ever been in.
The first woman soon walks onto the stage, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from betraying my emotions as the bidding begins. It’s an auction . These monsters are not just bidding on the chance to spend an evening with a beautiful escort—they’re bidding for the chance to bring these women home. To own them. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, knowing the type of men I do business with, but this is so much worse than I feared.
I try to find Damien in the crowd, but I don’t know where he’s disappeared to. In the process, I note the company I’m keeping. In the crowd with me I recognize public officials, police officers, and other powerful and wealthy men. And they are bidding, laughing and enjoying themselves. This organization has more ties and is more well supported than I would have dreamed possible.
My anger rises as my attention returns to the stage. The woman being trafficked has held up surprisingly well, her face betraying no emotion as prices are thrown around. But when she is made to perform for the man who purchased her, she starts to shake with fear. I remember Damien’s words. “You can’t help them all—and tonight is just about gaining information.” I turn away from the woman as her head begins to bob up and down in the lap of her new owner.
I swear I will find a way to end this.
The two girls that follow after her don’t do so well. They look terrified through the whole ordeal. I’m very well aware that I can’t save every damsel in distress. But I can’t help the anger that rises within me as I watch this sick spectacle. I grew up in foster care, so I know what it means to feel hopeless.
I never knew my parents. All I remember is passing through the foster care system for most of my childhood and adolescence. I was an angry kid, mad at everyone and at the world. I had nothing, and got into fights often. Then I realized how futile it was to stay angry, so I channeled that anger into something better—making it out of the slums. I was determined to make it at all costs. And over the years, I have managed to claw my way to the top, the most successful property tycoon in the city.
I wonder what Connor’s up to. So far he hasn’t made any bid. His silence might mean that he isn’t interested in the bidding at all. Could he be at the auction only to ensure the sale of the woman he mentioned?
After the third girl, I’m seriously considering leaving the auction when number four is called in. I feel an instant shift as she walks through the curtain onto the stage.
“Gentlemen! Here’s another delight for you,” the auctioneer announces in a loud voice.
I stare in disbelief at the stage. It’s the girl from the parking lot. She’s dressed differently, in a short black dress and heels that seem to make her legs go on forever. She’s so damn gorgeous, and If I’d thought what I felt earlier was just my protective instincts, then I was wrong. It’s definitely something more. Something that I don’t have time to explore right here and now.
Unlike the other girls who looked resigned or downright terrified, she seems utterly confused. Ruffled, like a fish caught on dry land.
How is she here? She obviously doesn’t belong in a place like this. None of these women do, but something is different about this one. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a strong urge to protect her from the perverts in this room. The feeling is strange and shocking. What is it about her that shakes my very core?
“Isn’t she sublime?” the auctioneer says, his voice cutting sharply through my thoughts. “This one is the highlight of the night, an untouched gem. Number four is a virgin , and so the bidding starts at ten thousand dollars!”
My whole body goes cold at the announcement and the excited murmurs that follow. None of these bastards are getting their paws on my girl. I will make sure of that.
“Fifty thousand dollars!” someone calls out from the audience.
“One hundred,” another counters almost immediately.
“Two hundred!” another voice calls from another corner of the room.
A blind rage fills me as I listen to the bids flying around, but I keep my cool. I’ve been in business long enough to know that emotions don’t play a part in making deals. So I wait, watching the shit show with an air of indifference because I know I’m going to win anyway.
By the time the bid rises up to five hundred thousand dollars, many of the patrons have backed out.
“Five hundred thousand dollars going once, going twice…” the auctioneer drawls, definitely biding his time.
I press my buzzer. “One million,” I say, pleased by the shocked murmur that ripples through the crowd.
Then the most surprising thing happens.
Connor presses his buzzer. “One and a half million dollars,” he calls out, his voice cocky and assured. I can almost feel an arrogant stare from him, as if he’s daring me to go higher.
What the fuck? Is he just bidding because he doesn’t want me to win? I shouldn’t be fighting this so hard, but I’m way beyond reasoning now. It’s as if a switch has suddenly been turned on in my brain and my thought process has been altered. I can only think about how I must protect her.
The thought of her leaving here with Connor is inconceivable. I’ve heard the stories of how he treats the women he dates—how much worse will he treat a woman he’s purchased at an auction?
If it means losing billions of dollars just to save her from these monsters, so be it.
“Two million dollars,” I call out, pressing my buzzer again.
“Three million,” Connor says forcefully, his tone belligerent.
“Ten million,” I counter.
The hall is dead silent now, yet there’s an undertone of excitement layered beneath the silence.
“Twelve million,” Connor says forcefully. I can hear the hesitation in his voice now. He’s a wealthy man, but he’s also a shrewd businessman. He’s reaching his limit. I can feel it.
“Twenty million,” I say firmly, reveling in the heavy silence that settles in the room.
None of them dares to challenge me now, and even if anyone dares, I’m ready to increase my stake. She’s mine.
“Going once, going twice, sold!” the auctioneer announces, his voice ringing with excitement. “And now, onto what I’m sure we’re all looking forward to, the sampling. Why don’t you sample your new acquisition, Mr. Blackwood, and show us how satisfied you are?”
I freeze, remembering the tears of the other girls as their buyers had their way with them in front of the whole room. Fuck. There’s no way I can hurt my girl like that.
Suddenly, the light above me comes on. I smooth my shocked expression, putting on a cloak of indifference, the same one that I use to put my imposing board of directors in their place in the boardroom.
“I’m quite pleased just by looking at her,” I say, keeping my voice impassive.
Someone in the audience snickers. The auctioneer gives me a plastic smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t cut it. All of our products must be sampled right here in front of everyone. It’s an important part of what we do here—it must be done. Right?”
The audience cries out in agreement, the air thick with their sick anticipation. It grates on my nerves, and everything I feel intensifies when my gaze fixates on the scared young woman. The shock of the bidding has worn off and now she’s trembling in fear, her bright eyes glistening with unshed tears that threaten to undo me.
I clench my jaw hard as white-hot anger spears me. Who are they to tell me what to do?
My anger can be vicious, and it’s unwise to let it lose. So I grit my teeth harder until my ear throbs. I now have her to think about, so I have to remain completely calm.
The auctioneer smiles bigger as he addresses the audience. “Looks like we have a shy one. Did you forget to check the rules before…”
He clams up at the sinister look I shoot at him, and he trails off, chuckling nervously. I look around to assess the situation. Damien has disappeared somewhere. Where the hell did he go when I needed him? Though I suppose I’m glad my friend won’t have a front-row seat for this show.
I know better than to blow my cover, or Damien’s. I know that I can’t reveal myself to be anything less than one-hundred-percent on board with the activities taking place here. The true goings on in this chapel are a closely guarded secret. I eye the men at the doors, their weapons visible even from where I’m sitting.
I can’t leave without her, and I can’t leave without sampling her, so that only leaves one option…
“Alright, doll, go and meet your new master,” the auctioneer says, taking my silence for acceptance.
She walks toward me tentatively, heightening my tension. What’s going through her mind?
I study her features more closely when she stops in front of me, taking in every breath and shiver. This close, she looks even more beautiful. Her dazzling hazel eyes beckon me like a siren calls to its prey. Except that her call makes me want to do damage to anyone who tries to hurt her.
She looks ready to burst into tears, pressing her nails tightly into her palm. I ball my fists to keep from taking her hands and kissing away her pain. I watch her flinch from my reaction, and I swear internally at myself.
“I’m Grayson, what’s your name?” I ask in my most gentle voice. It comes out hoarse.
“Sophia,” she replies in a small voice, nervously biting down on her lips.
A staggering lust hits me at the gesture. What the fuck? I shouldn’t be this turned on right now.
“Trust me, Sophia, I won’t harm you,” I say slowly, holding her gaze so she can see the sincerity behind my words. I can’t promise her that I’m not like every other bastard in this room, but I would never hurt a hair on her head. I’d kill anyone who does.
She nods, her stance relaxing a little. I beckon for her to come closer and she complies, her steps tentative.
I’m aware of the piercing stares around us, but she ensnares me. It doesn’t matter that I literally learned her name just seconds ago; I want to give her everything she’s ever wanted. I want to see her heart-shaped lips curl up in a smile and her gorgeous eyes twinkling with laughter. I want to get her out of this godforsaken place and protect her from every evil in the world. I’ve never wanted anyone this much, not to mention a girl I barely know. What is it about her that draws me like a magnet to steel, an unstoppable force that renders me helpless and yearning for more?
I have no answer to any of the questions in my head, but the least I can do is make this barbaric show a pleasurable one for her.
“Straddle me,” I command in the gentlest tone I can muster.
Once she settles awkwardly on the edge of my lap, I pull her closer. “I know you’ve never done this before, but we need to give these greedy vultures a show,” I state calmly. She nods in response, her eyes never leaving mine. She shouldn’t trust a bastard like me.
I raise my hand to her face, gently caressing the smooth, soft skin. She gasps softly when I trail my thumb over her lower lip, her gorgeous hazel eyes gleaming with an unconscious lust that sends blood rushing to my cock. She probably has no idea what she’s doing to me.
I lean forward to kiss the thrumming vein on her neck, then slowly make my way up until my lips are resting against her ear. “Relax, baby. I won’t make you do anything you don’t like. Forget these bastards are even here, alright? It’s just you and me.”
“O-okay,” she stutters softly, her face turning an adorable shade of red.
I pull her closer until our breaths mingle and my arousal is nestling against her warm sex. Her eyes widen at the contact, and I watch as awareness slowly seeps into those gorgeous hazel depths.
“You ever kissed someone?” I ask, bracing myself for the answer. My muscles bunch at the thought of another man’s lips on hers; the possessiveness I feel robs me of my breath.
“N-no,” she replies, her face growing even redder.
I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding, and chuckle mirthlessly to myself. What the hell is wrong with me?
I lean forward until our lips are inches apart, all the while watching her expression. “Kiss me, Sophia,” I murmur against her lips, giving her free rein to help her relax and get used to me.
She bites down nervously on her lip, and it takes everything in me not to throw caution to the wind and claim her mouth. I wait patiently, watching the play of emotions in her eyes as she tries to adjust to the whole situation.
I like that she has such expressive eyes. I can see everything she’s feeling through those gorgeous hazel orbs. In my world, where people hide behind a facade of indifference to do the most despicable things, finding someone as guileless and pure as Sophia is almost impossible. I’m a lucky bastard, because I sure as hell don’t deserve her.
She leans forward, pressing her lips tentatively against mine. I instantly deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue between her soft, full lips, and into the warmth of her mouth. I run my hands over her back, pressing her closer against my body, losing myself in her heady scent and her unconscious little throaty moans. God, she makes me want to let go of control so badly. I want to sweep her up into my arms, take her someplace safe, and then return and tear apart each of these men limb from limb. Anyone who dared to touch what’s mine.
But now’s not the time. Losing control would mean giving these bastards exactly what they want.
I slide my hands to her nape, sinking my fingers into her silky hair and kissing her harder, deeper. I can’t seem to get enough, but I finally tear my mouth from hers, taking in her dazed eyes and swollen lips. She’s breathing hard, her chest heaving in a way that draws my attention to the swell of her breasts. Unable to resist, I glide my hand over the luscious flesh, squeezing gently, loving the shiver of response that racks her body.
I allow my fingers to dance around the tips of her hardening nipples, tracing along the soft material of her dress. A soft moan escapes her throat, igniting my desire. I lower my mouth to her neck again, and she tilts her head to give me access, her hands tightening on my shoulders. I drop soft bites and licks down her neck until I close my lips over the tight nub of one of her breasts through the dress, my hand strumming over the other.
Her soft moan of pleasure fills the air as she starts to grind against my cock, unconsciously setting a rhythm that threatens to undo me. I claim her mouth again, drowning out her sexy moans. I can only give these leering bastards so much—they have no right to hear those throaty little moans of hers. I need to put an end to this shit show.
I widen her legs, sliding my palm up her thighs until my fingers are nestling against her entrance. “I’m going to touch you now, Sophia,” I say, kissing her nose. “Just close your eyes and enjoy it. Remember, it’s just me and you here.” She nods obediently and closes her eyes.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur as I lean forward to claim her mouth again. Gently, I tug at her panties, pushing them aside. Then I start to rub my thumb over her clit, teasing and flicking the little bud until she’s soaking wet. I slide a finger slowly inside her tight and slippery sex, my thumb still stroking her engorged clit, and she trembles slightly, her nails digging painfully into my shoulders.
I pull back a little to look at her as I slip my finger out and gently push it in again. Her breath hitches, her deep hazel eyes hooded with pleasure as her walls clamp tightly around my finger. I create a rhythm, sliding my finger in and out of her. There’s something incredibly stimulating about watching her while I pleasure her. My chest swells with an indecipherable emotion at the total surrender in her face.
My God, she’s gorgeous.
I increase my pace, fighting hard against the overwhelming desire thrumming in my veins.
“Look at me,” I rasp in a thick voice, sucking in a breath at the drunken pool of want that has darkened her hazel eyes. It reels me in and I get lost in them. She lets out a guttural moan as I add another finger. It’s a tight fit. I can feel the walls of her warm sheath constricting around me.
I’m the hardest I’ve been in years. It feels as if my dick is made of granite. My left hand is now wrapped tightly around her waist, her loud moans and whimpers spurring me on, heightening the tension inside me. Our gazes remain locked and at the slight widening of her eyes, I know she’s at her peak. I press my thumb hard on her clit and welcome the spasm of her inner muscles as she lets go. Warm liquid trickles down my fingers and I pet her slowly until her orgasm subsides.
Both of us are breathing quickly at the end of it. Me, from my lack of release. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the thundering applause that follows.
I rise to my feet with her in my arms. “You don’t need to care about them. Once you leave here,” I whisper against her hair, “you’ll never have to see them again after tonight.”
That’s a promise I plan to keep with my life.