Chapter 1 #2
It makes me furious.
It makes me hungry.
Walking into The Onyx Room should be gratifying—staff straightening, conversations cutting off, the stillness of people aware of my presence. Today, it just irritates me as another delay.
“Welcome, Mr. Ismailov. We weren’t expecting you. We can have your section ready in—”
Daniil shakes his head, a sharp crack of his neck cutting off the hostess. Maxim shoves his way through the crowd, his massive frame clearing a path. We head for the private room in the back, and icy control settles over me. The coldness that comes before violence crystallizes.
The bass from the main floor vibrates through the walls, but the hallway is quiet, soundproofed for discretion. Perfect for selling women, apparently. The worst decision of Volodymyr’s short, soon-to-be-ended life.
I don’t knock. This is my club, my property. The door slams open, bouncing off the wall, and silence ripples toward the stage like a shockwave.
Everyone freezes—the well-dressed predators in their expensive suits, Volodymyr’s staff, the girls lined up on stage like products. The air reeks of expensive cologne. I let the moment stretch.
They figure it out when they see my face.
“Viktor, get every attendee’s name and identification before showing them to the door.” My voice is calm, the kind of calm that comes before screaming.
Viktor strides through the tables as I continue my march to the front, Maxim and Daniil flanking me like reapers. Each step is measured, giving Volodymyr time to understand how thoroughly he’s fucked himself.
The blood has drained from his face. He’s frozen, his mouth working frantically. Sweat soaks his expensive collar.
“Uh. Rafail, we weren't expecting you. I wanted to surprise you with our new venture.” The words tumble out, desperate.
“It is a surprise.” I stop three feet from him, hands loose at my sides. “I’m surprised you’re not pissing in your pants. But that’s okay. Keep your piss.” My smile spreads slowly, showing teeth. “I’m here for blood.”
“No, it’s not what you think, I swear—” His words escalate into a screech as he backs away from Maxim’s grinning approach.
“Oh, really?” I take one deliberate step forward. He scrambles back two. “Because I think you fucked up. You wanted to hold an auction. Selling women behind my back, and you were dumb enough to think I wouldn’t find out.” Another step. “Wouldn’t fucking care.”
My words grow softer with each sentence.
His head bobbles, spittle on his chin as he sputters excuses that mean nothing. Each word deepens my contempt.
“Enough.” I reach him in one smooth motion, lifting him by his collar until I can smell his fear. “You made a mistake. Mistakes cost. End of story.”
His feet kick uselessly. I shove him into Maxim’s waiting arms. Maxim’s grin widens.
“Dispose of this garbage.”
“With pleasure.” Maxim’s knuckles crack like gunshots in the silent room.
A quick hitch—a sharp, feminine intake of breath—snaps my head around.
I know it’s her before my eyes find her, my body reacting to the sound before my mind catches up. I’ve listened to every tape Viktor sent, studied the cadence of her voice. I’d know that sound anywhere.
And here she is.
Fuck. The photograph didn’t prepare me.
Jana stands on the stage in a simple black dress that does nothing to hide the curves she tried to downplay. Her hair is pulled back, revealing the elegant line of her neck. My hands itch to wrap around it, to feel her pulse hammer under my palm. Her eyes hold me, and my lungs seize.
Those marble-brown eyes are filled with fear she refuses to show and a courage she can’t hide. The power in her stillness is a challenge.
My cock hardens, pressing against my zipper with an uncomfortable urgency. The response is immediate, a crack in the control I’ve spent two decades fortifying.
What the fuck is she doing to me?
I cock my head, a deliberate, cold gesture to mask the raw impulse to cross the room and claim her. “You don’t want him punished? He used my club for human trafficking, and he should just walk?”
She swallows hard, her throat working. Then she steps forward, away from the other girls who huddle behind her. She moves toward me, putting herself between the threat I represent and the women she feels responsible for.
The nerve on her.
“We weren’t trafficked. We were here to sell…” She stumbles but lifts her chin in that same proud gesture from her photo. “We had an arrangement with Mr. Asyniy. An agreement we entered willingly. No one was forced.”
My brows shoot up. She’s defending him. Standing up to me, as if courage is a shield against me.
“I was forced. Forced to have my club used for this auction without my consent.” I let that land, watching her process the distinction.
“Well…” She searches for an argument, for leverage that doesn’t exist.
“Enough.” Her mouth rounds in surprise before she presses her lips into a firm line. She knows when she’s hit a wall.
“Daniil, make sure each girl gets an escort home. The auction is over.” I see Jana’s protest forming and lock her gaze. “Write them each a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. Make sure they understand this is generosity, not a negotiation.”
You belong to me.
Relief floods the other girls’ faces. They mouth thank-yous to me, to Jana, scrambling for the exit.
“No. You stay.” I point at Jana as she starts to move with the others. The authority in my voice stops her mid-step.
The other girls freeze, then scatter. Heels click frantically against the hardwood as they flee, not one of them looking back at the woman who just stood up for them. Predictable.
I don’t release Jana’s glare until the room is empty, save for my men and the girl who just became mine.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t cry. She just stares at me, memorizing my face.
That defiant courage coils something tight and proprietary in my gut. My hands ache to touch her. I want to see if that spine stays straight when I have her beneath me.
I smile.
“Now, milaya," I say softly, descending the steps toward the stage with deliberate slowness, "let's talk about why you thought selling your virginity to strangers was a good idea."