20. Desire
Chapter 20
Desire
Winnie
“I won’t let anyone else have what’s mine.” Christophe growls at my back as I walk out of the office, thighs shaking and slick with my orgasm.
I flinch, though I don’t know if it’s from what he says or from the way his claim reverberates through me.
I have to do this. I have no other options.
As I stalk down the hallway to the main room Teague rushes toward me pulling up short when he lifts his gaze from the phone clutched in his hand. His brows rise, surprise slashed across his face.
The fast-paced speech of a typical auctioneer might be missing, but there’s no doubt from the buzzing energy spilling from the room beyond that the auction has begun. A single voice calls attention to each attribute of the poor girl on stage at the moment. Rude and lurid comments drift down the hallway between the call and confirmation of astronomical dollar amounts.
“Are they starting?” I ask, brushing past him.
Teague’s hand engulfs my upper arm as he stops me. He stares at me, gaze darting from me to the man I know is standing behind me. “Boss?”
Glancing over my shoulder shows me Christophe framed in the doorway to the office, highlighted by weak, yellow light. His jaw shifts, eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say a damn word. Not a thing until the silence is heavy and cold, pressing outward and filling the space.
Teague tilts his head listening to the buzz of words in his earpiece. His questioning gaze shoots to Christophe who nods almost imperceptibly.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks Christophe, disbelief tainting his words. “You’re going to let this happen?”
Why wouldn’t he? Christophe has done nothing but tell me I owe him. That I’m on the hook for a debt I didn’t accrue and one I certainly can’t pay. I’m stuck.
Christophe prowls toward us, lethal promise in every measured step.
A suited security guy pops his head into the hall. “Sir, we need the girl for the next bid.”
“Let her go,” Christophe says. Cold. Emotionless like the primal passion from just minutes ago never happened, that it was nothing but a dream. The only hint he shows that he just had his face buried between my legs is the swipe of his thumb through the edge of his beard before he slides it between his lips.
Teague releases me, handing me off with a scowl at his boss.
Before walking away, I turn and address him. “Take care of Tru for me. Make sure she gets somewhere safe. I won’t beg for myself. I won’t ask you for anything else; I just need for her to be okay.”
Teague stiffens at my request, only relaxing marginally when Christophe responds, “I will.”
Head high, shoulders back, and spine straight, I turn my back on the first man I ever loved. All he’s done is play with me—my emotions, my body. My heart. God, the things he’s made me feel. Alive and wanted.
For all the wrong reasons? Yeah. But he’s always been elusive, more an imaginary friend than anything rooted in reality.
My reality, though. That’s always been the stuff of nightmares. I saw things no child should ever see. Experienced hunger and neglect and complete disregard by the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
I’ve been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember with only determination and a few almost miraculous finds of food or money or even clothes falling into my lap when I needed them most. This fucked up situation isn’t all that different really. Tenacity runs through my veins, and if a fortuitous miracle happens to make an appearance, even better. But there’s only one path for me to take.
I stalk away to face my fate.
Christophe
“What are you thinking?” Teague spits his demand.
I get it. From his perspective, I just let my life-long obsession walk away from me and straight into a hive of angry, buzzing hornets.
I’m not. Not really.
I couldn’t live with myself if I did.
“Don’t worry, brother.” I turn back to the office so I can watch the proceedings without distraction. Thank Christ for the wall of monitors giving me every possible view of the bidding floor.
Winnie walks out onto the stage like this is a charity fashion show and not the vile trading of cash for pretty little sex slaves that it is. She has no idea who the people ogling her are, what they’re capable of.
They see her as nothing more than a commodity, something to be purchased and used, then discarded once she’s broken. A beautiful plaything, they can’t wait to sully and destroy.
I see the real Winnie. Her show of poise and grace conceals what’s going on inside her. A flush spreads over her chest as she strides across the stage, her attributes being announced, her virginity held in the highest regard.
Those men want to use her.
“How can you say that? Look at that fucking vulture out there. You’re okay with this shit?” Teague steps up next to me, gaze darting over the monitors until he finds what he’s looking for. “Fucking bastard.”
“Which one? The room is filled with them.” I chuckle but follow his line of sight and zero in on my uncle.
Alain’s eyes are glued to the stage and he’s chewing on his damn cigar like he hates it. He lifts a meaty finger and nods, then does it again. And again.
I never doubted he’d bid on Winnie, given the chance. I just figured he’d wait until the end and drop an outrageous dollar amount. Instead, he’s doing exactly what Teague said he would, driving the price higher and higher with every flick of his wrist.
Winnie crosses the stage again, slowly spinning at the prompt from the auctioneer, his finger twirling in the air.
Rage burns through me as every man’s focus drops to her pert ass. The silk scraps do nothing to discourage their lewd thoughts or their aggressive bids.
The offers climb fast and high.
I want to blind every single one of them. Take away their sight so their vile gaze can never touch her again. And then I’ll kill them. Fuck, I should go out there and claim her in front of every one of them, then lock the doors behind me and set the entire building on fire. Watch it burn to the fucking ground.
“He’s doing it. He’s fucking doing it,” Teague grinds out, incensed.
My focus goes back to Alain to see him nod once again before shoving his cigar into his mouth and walking out of the room. Another monitor shows him leaving the building and climbing into his car. When only his retreating taillights remain on the screen, I glance back to the spot he just vacated to see one of his men remains, stance wide, arms crossed, fully focused on Winnie.
“Tell me what you know, T. What does Alain think he’s doing?”
A muscle jumps in Teague’s jaw, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was enamored with Winnie too. But I know where his loyalties lie—all of them.
“He wants her, without a doubt. Put a no-cap bid on her to ensure that he’s the one to take her home. You know what he’s going to do to her, right? Sick fuck is going to chain her up and make her beg?—”
“Stop.”
“Make her beg for death, because living as his fuck doll is worse than that.” He shifts uncomfortably, his hands clenched into hard fists. “Even if she manages to eventually get away, the damage will already be done.”
“I know, goddamn it. I fucking know. I’ve seen them when he’s done with them. I’ve seen the death and the living dead. But why Winnie? Why is he torqued over her?”
Alain’s tastes are wide and varied. Girls way too young, wives and girlfriends of his enemies, and even those of his associates. His kink is destroying people by taking what’s most meaningful and torturing them with it. He did it to Tru’s parents. He tried to do it to my father, but he died before Alain could see it through.
Stillness falls over my friend. When he turns to face me, he looks absolutely haunted. “You fucking know,” he states.
“What do I know, Teague, tell me?”
“He wants her because of you. He wants her because she means something to you.” His shoulders round and he runs a hand through his hair. “He will do anything— everything —to take you down. Don’t you see that? You are the only thing left between him and the full power of this organization.”
I laugh—not a happy one, but because he’s wrong. “He already has the organization. He made sure to lock that down when my father died. Stepped in with the claim that it was just until I was older, more prepared for the role, but we’ve known all along that he’s not going to step aside. He’s proven it at every turn.”
Teague scoffs. “And still, you’re standing here doing nothing, knowing full and well, that he’s arranged to steal Winnie away tonight.”
This time my laugh is real and true.
“Teague, brother. We both knew this was a possibility, even with all the last minute changes. If you think for a minute I didn’t put additional measures in place for tonight, you’re sorely mistaken. I thought you had more faith in me than that.”
“I do, but he’s got a guy standing in the main room waiting to steal Winnie away and deliver her to his door.” He gets louder with every word, strain evident in his voice. His gestures are almost wild, jerky and full of frustration.
A satisfied smile tugs at my lips. “Alain will be outbid.” I glance at the monitors and then to my phone. The final bids are in, and the auction is closed. I hit the button to access volume from the auction floor.
“Gentlemen, congratulations to our winners. When your funds have been transferred and verified, you can collect your purchases. And as always, we thank you for your generosity.” The auctioneer glances at the camera mounted at the back of the room and subtly adjusts his cuffs before walking off stage. The move is natural, draws no attention but conveys the message loud and clear.
“Jesus, Christophe, it’s done. Alain thinks he’s the high bidder. He fucking made arrangements. Did we plan for his level of sore loser?” Teague is upset. Rightfully so since he was gone for a good chunk of my planning time yesterday and is taking things at face value. But he should know that nothing—fucking nothing—is as it seems in our world.
I tuck my phone away and slide my hands into my trouser pockets as I stroll to the door. I turn and address Teague over my shoulder.
“He was never going to win her. I made damn sure of that.”
Teague shakes his head. “How, though? What did you set up to cheat the motherfucker king of backstabbing cheats?”
It’s more than a little annoying that he’s standing here questioning my ability. I drop my head down, my chin resting on my chest for a moment before I meet his hard stare. “I’m the one who has been watching, waiting. Learning everything I could from him.”
“But…”
Fists clenched at my sides, it takes a lot of effort not to knock him back into reality, but I don’t have time for his bullshit. I have to go get Winnie.
“Because Winifred L’Ourson is mine. She’s fucking mine. I have waited long enough for this day. To knock Alain off his fucking pedestal and take my rightful place in the organization.”
“And you—what?—thought it was a good idea to put Winnie in the crosshairs? You know I have your back, man, but this is a lot, even for you. Do you honestly think Alain is going to accept this coup? Just take it in stride and hand things over to you without a fight? What if shit goes off the rails—what then?”
“No one is going to fuck with me. No one is going to fuck with Winnie, she’s mine. She always has been, and she always will be.” I will lay down my life for her, protect her instead of walking away like I did years ago.
Then, she was too young, still a child.
Now, she’s mine.
I stride to the door, leaving Teague to keep an eye on things from here. When I reach the door, I eye him over my shoulder. “I’m taking Winnie home now. And I need you to handle whatever bullshit comes to our door.”
There is not a thing in the world that is going to keep me from my honeybee tonight.