Chapter 11 #2
“We have private soundproof VIP rooms upstairs.” Bellamy points at the glassed-off second floor. “We could offer them to you, or the booths. Whatever you prefer.”
“We’ll take the booth,” I say before Scarlett beats me to it, because I don’t want to go there. God knows what all these people do in them.
“It can get loud and rowdy during auctions, so if you change your mind, let me know.” She points at the ceiling.
I shriek, “Oh my God.”
Five cages hang from the ceiling, each with a person inside, all with white masks covering their faces.
The women wear long dresses that remind me of the Victorian era, while the men wear suits but have their chests bare.
Each cage has a number attached, and that’s when I notice servers going around the tables, putting various cards with numbers on them.
Silky ropes keep the people chained to the cage, and they drink champagne, scanning the crowd, some even laughing.
Only one sits in the corner, casting her gaze down.
“What the hell is this?”
Bellamy scrunches her nose at me. So saying the word “hell” is crossing the line, but this is okay? “In an hour, once our doors close, we will have an auction here, and everyone is allowed to participate. The highest bidder will get to spend a whole night with the person they bought.”
Scarlett asks, “Why five cages?” That’s the only question she has?
“We have five founding members who personally pick every participant, and it’s always the highlight of our night.” A beat passes. “All of them signed documents and willingly agreed to participate in the auction. They will also receive the full amount once the transaction goes through.”
“How is bidding on people a legal thing?”
“They are bidding on spending the night with them. We never make sex part of the equation. That’s for two grown adults to decide, and besides…
they aren’t allowed to meet each other outside of the club.
” Annoyance flashes on Bellamy’s face as she starts moving through the dancing people, heading to the right corner that somehow gives the perfect view of the entire club.
“Miss Wright, I assure you we run a legal business. You shouldn’t worry about safety either.
No one forces anyone into anything here. ”
“You can’t blame us for asking questions, though, right?” Maybe that’s my own trauma speaking. I can’t phantom willingly getting into a cage ever again.
Especially not after he put me in one with the intention of raping me.
Just thinking about it causes anxiety to rock through me, and I gulp for breath, hating imagining being locked up again.
“No. I respect that. Still, sometimes answering all these questions is exhausting. Enjoy your night, ladies.” She points at the small button on the table. “Once you are ready to order, press that button. Tonight we are serving Italian food since the theme is Venetian masquerade.”
She leaves us right away, and we choose our seats, the soft leather dipping under us, and I graze my fingers over the shiny wood.
“I expected something else.” I raise my gaze to Scarlett, who snatches the menu and flips it open.
“People making out and having wild sex everywhere. This is pretty tame, though. I’d seen more action at a regular club than here.
” She chuckles. “Bellamy did say it’ll get rowdy. ”
“You enjoy watching people have sex?”
“I enjoy a lot of things about sex. However, watching people do it is not one of those things.”
I lean back as shame fills me once again whenever the subject of sex comes up.
Speaking about it always brings attention to the fact that I never had any, and how embarrassing is that?
The minute people find out you are a virgin at thirty or older, they assume you’re either weird or have had some traumatic experiences.
And then two things happen.
They either try to reassure you it’s okay and that the right person will come along, or they tell you how bad it is and how we live only once and you’re missing out on all the fun.
How inexperienced women aren’t interesting enough for men because no one wants the hassle of teaching you everything.
None of these reactions lowers my anxiety about sex in general or my fears. So I tend to just switch the subject because it makes me even more ashamed to discuss it with someone younger than me who has the experience.
Still…tonight is the night of trying new things, right?
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
Scarlett pauses reading the menu, presses the button, and in a second, a server shows up, a young man who must be in his twenties. “Hello, ladies. My name is Andy, and I’ll be your server tonight.”
“We need two glasses of champagne, salted mixed nuts, fresh strawberries, melted chocolate, and vanilla ice cream. As soon as possible.”
“Got it.” He darts toward the bar before I can even blink.
“I figured we needed alcohol for such an interesting conversation. Are you allowed to drink?”
“Yes. In moderation.”
“Eighteen.”
“What?”
“I was eighteen when I lost my virginity.”
“Oh.”
“Were you hoping for me to be a late bloomer so I could relate to you more?” Damn, these lawyers read faces like the pros that they are.
“If it helps, I was the oldest virgin in my class, and the entire town knew about it because my vicious bully kept on cock-blocking everyone, including my boyfriend at the time.”
The mention of anyone bullying Scarlett shocks me to no end. Everything I know about her makes her seem confident and she takes zero shit from people.
“You had a bully in high school?”
Something akin to pain graces her eyes, but it’s gone so quick I think I must have imagined it.
“He used to be my childhood best friend, but then he became my worst nightmare. He had ways of making my life miserable every single day, and his methods were always cruel, precise, and methodical. In different circumstances, I would have applauded his dedication to a cause.”
Andy chooses this moment to return, placing the glasses and the food in front of us. “Let me know if you need anything else, ladies.” And he disappears once again.
The servers here have some kind of super speed for real.
We lift our glasses and clink them together. “Cheers, darling.” We take a small sip, and I welcome the cold, sweet liquid down my throat.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“It’s been fifteen years since we last saw each other. It’s all right. I’ve long moved on from it. Besides, trust me, I gave as good as I got. His life was hell too.” Her slightly shaken tone indicates otherwise.
I remember Rafael mentioning that Scarlett comes from a small town in the middle of nowhere. Based on what Emmaline told me, she never goes home to visit and avoids it like the plague, so whatever happened there must have been really hideous.
I grab a pecan nut. “What happened? Your boyfriend stood up for you, and you guys finally did it?” Better to bring the conversation back to sex because she didn’t sign up to relive her nightmares with me.
A hollow chuckle escapes her, and she takes a large sip this time from her glass while dipping a strawberry in the chocolate. “No one could ever stand up to Camden. He was the devil in his own hell, and he ruled it as he pleased.”
How much power could an eighteen-year-old guy have?
“His family must have been rich.”
“Nope. He was a bad boy, and I was the town’s princess. My father was a mayor and a billionaire. His was the town’s drunk, and they lived in a trailer park, barely scraping by.”
A mayor’s daughter bullied for years, and no one did shit? What kind of fucked-up town is that?
“Look, I don’t want to sound as if I’m preaching…
Either way, there is nothing wrong with having experience or being a virgin.
When you are ready to have sex, make sure you really want your partner.
That’s all that matters. I know everyone says that, but it’s true.
Each partner is different, so all this talk about gaining experience or otherwise, that no one would want you or dump your ass.
It’s noise that you should ignore. Sex is not complicated, you’ll figure it out. ”
Grabbing my spoon, I dip into the ice cream and scoop a generous amount. Her words sound like every other piece of advice out there.
“Maybe I should worry about finding a sexual partner first. Not many men want this.” I tap my cheek with my index finger.
“You’re beautiful, and if he says anything about your looks or sexual history, give him the boot and shut the door in his face.
” We clink our glasses again. “So relax and enjoy. We are practically at the Venetian ball right now.” We finish our champagne, and Scarlett motions to Andy, who stands by the bar, for a refill, and he gives us a thumbs-up.
“Can I ask you one last personal question?”
“Sure thing, darling.”
She bites on her strawberry, but starts coughing when I fire my question. “Who was your first? If your boyfriend couldn’t stand up to Camden.”
Maybe there was some town hunk who finally put the bully in his place?
Panic flashes in her eyes as she tears off a napkin and wipes her mouth, and sinking realization hits me.
No.
Oh my God!
“Was it—” Before I can ask whether it was her bully, the music stops, and people halt their dancing as a loud drumbeat reverberates through the space.
On cue, everyone’s attention shoots to the second floor, where another set of double doors opens and five men walk out, all wearing black suits that seem tailored to their muscular physiques, while golden phantom masks cover their faces.
Power.
That’s the first thing that comes to mind when looking at them as they start to descend the stairs one by one, their movements so fluid they remind me of panthers prowling through the tropical rainforests.