Page 8 of His to Protect

“Good. And, yes, that will erase what you owe me.” He turns to his goon and orders him to take me to room 222. “Go freshen up and make yourself presentable. There’s an outfit in the closet you can wear during the auction.”

As I turn to leave, racking my brain for a plan, I hear Creed’s final words.

“Wise decision, Hannah. I would’ve hated destroying a creature as lovely as you.”

Completely revolted, I follow Behemoth, ignoring Creed who laughs as I walk out. The giant escorts me to a hotel room on the second floor and then nods for me to go inside. Once I step into the room, I shut the door and see there’s no security latch. Dammit. A quick look through the peephole tells me Behemoth isn’t going anywhere. He’s standing guard right outside my door. Great. How the hell am I going to escape?

I hurry over and drag the curtains open. The windows are securely latched and the drop is too far to chance a jump. A quick glance around tells me I’m stuck in here.

“Shit,” I whisper. What the hell am I going to do? At this point, it seems like my only option is to get ready and then once I’m at the auction, I can try to run away. That’s really cutting it close, though, and there’s always the possibility I might not be able to escape. Being sold to a man like chattel makes me sick. Having my arms and legs broken also doesn’t sit well with me.

If it comes down to it, can I do it? Can I sleep with a stranger? I suppose I could let my mind float somewhere else and how long is it really going to last, anyway? Ten minutes? Realistically, it will be a small amount of time to sacrifice. I’m tough. If necessary, I can suck it up, spread my legs and pray he’s gentle. Whoever the pervert is who buys a young girl’s virginity.

Eww.

I suppose I should get ready. If I’m going to have to do this, if there’s truly no other way out, then I want to at least look good enough that someone will bid. It is an auction, after all, and I can’t imagine the humiliation I’d feel if no one wanted me.

Walking over to the closet, I open the door and want to cry when I see the “outfit” I’m supposed to wear. It’s nothing more than a wispy piece of lingerie. Silky sheer, predictably white and with lace embroidered edges.

I can’t believe I’m going to do this. How has my life come to this?

Heart pounding madly, I lay the lingerie on the bed, drop down on the edge of the mattress and cry. Cry my eyes out until there’s nothing left to do except wash my face, get dressed and suck it up.

4

VIN

Ispend the entire evening debating whether or not I should go to the private party tonight. The White Auction. Eventually, my libido wins over everything else. I need to get fucking laid. I’m sick of my brothers teasing me about it and I’m wound so damn tight, I’m ready to pop.

Since Enzo never went to one of these parties, I have no idea what to expect. I figure I should be okay if I wear black pants with my green button down dress shirt. I like the shirt because it makes my green eyes pop. I’m the only one of my siblings who has eyes that aren’t brown, so they always used to joke that I’m not really a Rossi and my dad was the mailman.

Leaning over the bathroom sink, I spritz a small amount of cologne on and study my reflection. My thick brown hair waves back from my sun-bronzed face and my lower jaw is covered in a light stubble. My green eyes look brighter than usual and resemble twin emeralds.

“You are going to meet a beautiful woman tonight and end this dry spell,” I tell myself, trying to be positive.

With that goal firmly set in my mind, I hit the light off and walk out into the living room. Grabbing my wallet, I double check there’s a condom still in there—yep, still mocking me—and snap the leather billfold shut, tucking it in my back pocket.

After swiping up the invitation with the odd wax seal, I grab my jacket and head down to the elevator. I live on the twenty-second floor of Skyview Towers. I could’ve bought a place higher up, but the truth is I don’t care for heights that much. Living on the eightieth floor is the last place I want to be and twenty two is high enough for me. Heights make me edgy. Unlike Angelo who loves soaring around in his helo, I prefer to keep my feet on the ground. Or, as close to the ground as possible.

The elevator drops me off in the underground garage and I walk over to my Mercedes. The address on the invitation is about twenty minutes away. Surprisingly, traffic moves fairly well and I arrive at the hotel a little after midnight. I don’t want to look too eager, but I am not playing around tonight. The goal is to scope the place out, find a willing woman and get the hell out of here. Since we’ll already be in a hotel that makes it super convenient.

I pull right up to the front door and valet park my car. As I walk up the steps and enter the hotel, I realize it’s packed. Are all these people here for the private party? I wonder. A woman is directing people to a doorway where two men are checking invitations. Pulling mine out, I remove it from the pristine white envelope and present it to one of the men. He scans a special light over it then hands it back to me.

“Welcome, Mr. Rossi. Help yourself to champagne and hor d’oeuvres. The auction begins at 12:30 sharp.”

Huh. So there actually is a real auction? Enzo didn’t know any specific details, but maybe they have some artwork on display or something, and they plan to donate the earnings to a local charity. Most parties like this are full of wealthy people who want to feel better about themselves and like to open their wallet for a good cause. There’s only one reason I’m opening my wallet tonight—and that’s to remove that condom, blow off the dust and fuck a lovely lady.

Christ, I can’t wait. Enzo was right. I need some action.

A heavy, red velvet curtain hangs in front of me and I push through it. The moment I step into the next room, a pretty girl offers me a glass of champagne. Taking it from the tray, I murmur a thanks and look around. I don’t see any artwork on display, but I do see a platform that looks like it’s going to serve as some kind of a stage. Maybe they’ll present the auction items up there a little later. Honestly, I don’t care. Chances are, if I can move this little search along, I might manage to make it out of here before the action even begins.

Now, though, it’s time to scope things out. I take a sip of champagne and begin making my way around the room. Disappointment shreds me because there are a helluva lot more men here than women. And the women I do see already seem to be with someone.

There’s also a weird vibe I’m picking up on. Almost one of anticipation. I’m not sure why people would be so excited to bid on a painting, but whatever. To each his own, right?

Telling myself to be patient, I find a quiet corner away from the crowd and study everyone closely. Looks like a lot of single businessmen, some couples, and no single women. I swear to God, if this evening turns out to be a bust, I’m going to be pissed. My hopes—and the little guy’s hopes—are up. It would suck ass if there aren’t any single, eligible women who show up.

Patience, Vin. You’re going to meet someone tonight.

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