AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We go next door. You get to mingle. It’s a silent auction and once there’re no more electronic bids on our app, the winner will do a transfer and he will take you to the suite next door. You’ll be alone with him until noon tomorrow. I’ll be here the entire time. There’re cameras almost everywhere except next door. I have guards at the elevator, so don’t try and escape. I’ll meet you tomorrow after the fact and then we’ll make our way home.”
I get to go home? That sounds too good to be true.
“And Matteo?”
Stephano shrugs. “He isn’t here, is he?”
It’s been five hours. Five long hours of torture, a lifetime to contemplate what’s coming my way.
And Matteo isn’t here. My heart falls, and for the first time I realize how fragile it is. It’s going to hit rock bottom and shatter into a thousand pieces.
46
TASHA
Stephano leads me by the elbow to the French doors, where a bodyguard has been standing the whole time. The man opens the doors for us, and as soon as I step inside the suite’s circular foyer several pairs of eyes turn to me.
Someone wolf-whistles and I’m choking on a new terror I’ve never felt before as I take in the scene in front of me. I’m trapped. Three men, dressed in tuxedos, stand with drinks in hand; two more sit further away in the living room on a half-moon shaped sofa; and a poker table is going with four men, one on each side. Male waiters are attending to their every need by the look of half-eaten plates of steak that are pushed to the side, but trays of finger foods are also doing the rounds.
My heart pulses in my constricted throat, my whole body quivering. I should have taken Stephano up on his drug offer, but there’s no going back now.
“Smile for the camera.” Stephano points to where a laptop is discreetly placed so whoever is watching can see my entrance, but not the other guests. “That’s the Don looking on.”
I swallow, looking at the camera but not smiling. “To think I still don’t know what my dad has done that I deserve this.”
“Matteo hasn’t told you?”
“Nothing much.”
“Your crooked dad copped out of a deal, blew the whistle on our location and that killed our brother Alex. Then he never settled his opportunity costs. That’s why you are here.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I nod. That photo Matteo had in his closet, of him with a teenaged boy his age. Alex. Dad, how could you? “I’m sorry for your loss.” I know the pain of losing a loved one. How it balloons in your chest out of nowhere, suffocating you.
“Our brother has been atoned for, and this auction will cover the rest.” Stephano pushes me toward the men who are waiting. “I’ll introduce you to our guests. Smile and wave. Play nice. Leave the claws for the bedroom, kitten. They’ll like that.”
I feel the red heat staining my cheeks at his words. Kitten. I know Stephano heard Matteo call me that, but nobody gets to call me kitten except Matteo. “I’m not your kitten.”
I try to shrug loose from his hold on my elbow, but Stephano’s grip firms as he turns slightly to face me. “He isn’t here, princess. You’re under my watch now, and soon you’re going to belong to one of these men, if only for half a day. I suggest you start playing along so I’m not forced to turn our classy evening into a vulgar sex slave market.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tie you up, strip you naked, put you on a pedestal with a gag and blindfold so you can only moan your displeasure instead of shooting deathly glares at everybody.”
I close my eyes. I asked for this; I took a risk that hasn’t panned out. I blink and take the first step toward the group of men who are standing, patiently waiting for us to come their way. They’re enjoying the show we’re putting on; all of them are smirking as their eyes strip my body.
I shudder. Soon I’m going to be sold to one of these perverts. And then?—
Behind us the door to the suite opens and footsteps fall behind me. “Party’s over. Bidding’s closed.”
I stall as I hear his voice.
That voice that I’ve come to love.
That voice that can command my body as if it alone is its master.
My legs want to buckle, but Stephano has me steady.
“Oh my God!” another voice chimes in, high heels clicking on the porcelain tiles. Gigi. Gigi Trapani has come for me too. I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. She carries on hissing things in Italian which I don’t understand and don’t care to either. All I want is Matteo.
