{CHIARA}
AS if on cue, the bidders begin shuffling toward the auctioneer, abandoning their conversations as the men they were just talking to suddenly become their greatest competition.
As I watch them move around the warehouse, I realize this isn't just a case of highest bidder takes all. It's a pissing contest, proving to the elite men around them who has the deepest pockets.
Once everyone is where they need to be, the auctioneer gets on with it. "Standard auction rules apply," he says into his microphone. "Raise your hand to make a bid. We're moving up in hundreds with a starting bid of five hundred thousand. No half bids permitted. Once the auction is finished, all winners will be required to make payment within the hour before they will be permitted to collect their prize.
We will accept cash or a wire transfer, considering immediate clearance in our account. If you do not possess the funds or cannot you are not permitted to bid. Do not waste our time. Otherwise, your name will be blacklisted, and you will not be invited to attend another event."
He glances around the room, making sure his instructions are received clearly before waving a hand toward the first girl, her nameplate reading Stacey. "Alright, I know you are all eager to get this started. So, without further ado, let's start the bidding. For our first girl of the night, Stacey, do I hear five hundred thousand?"
"Right here," someone says, raising their hand. My gaze snaps across the room to find the asshole with the virgin kink eagerly watching the auctioneer. He clearly found what he was looking for.
"Six hundred," another man responds, prompting the auctioneer to do his thing, his voice like nails on a chalkboard as he seeks new bidders.
Another hand flies up. "Eight.
"Nine."
My stomach starts to crawl.
"A million," the virgin kink asshole fires back.
Fucking hell. I can't watch.
Spinning around, I grip the bars of my cage, struggling to breathe as I try to block out the auction behind me. Tears well in my eyes as it all becomes too real. I'm being trafficked–sold to a high-end purchaser to do with as they please.
I brace my head against the bars, feeling a panic attack coming on as I will myself to take slow, deep breaths. The thought of these monsters relishing in my tears makes me sick. I need to be stronger than this. I can't allow them to break me.
The first girl goes for just under two million dollars, and as the word "sold" comes from the auctioneer, I hear the girl let out a pained sob. Knowing there's not a damn thing I can do to help her, I don't even bother turning around to find her purchaser or to get a look at her face. All it's going to do is leave me with nightmares.
A tear falls to my cheek as the auctioneer moves on to girl number two, Brittany, and my hands shake violently against the bars, knowing I'm next. The bidding starts, and as I go to wipe my tears away, I feel someone's stare on my face.
It's intense, and I lift my teary gaze to the back of the room, and right there, deep in the darkest corner and away from the bidding, I find a man covered in shadows. He's tall with dark features, Mediterranean maybe. It's hard to tell from so far away. All I know is that there's something dangerous about him, something that warns me to run in the opposite direction.
Those dark, piercing eyes seem to penetrate right through me, capturing my stare and holding it hostage. He's too far away to hold a conversation, but even with this distance, the silence between us is deafening.
My heart races, and he refuses to look away, the intensity growing by the second. He doesn't try to look at my body, doesn't try to gauge what kind of fight I'l put up in bed. He simply stares back at me with those lethal black eyes.
The name Misty rings through the warehouse, and my eyes widen with fear. Breaking my stare away from the scary stranger in the shadows, I whip around, my gaze locked and loaded on the auctioneer.
Men stare at me from all over the room, and my legs quiver as I try to stay still.
"Do I hear five hundred thousand?"
The old fucker with the broken nose grins manically as he raises his hand. "Five hundred thousand. Right here."
Fuck.
Bile rises in my throat, and if it weren't for my sheer will to get out of here, I would have let it come out.
"Six hundred," is heard from across the room, and my eyes whip back and forth, trying to keep track of who's bidding what.
"Seven.
"I'll take the bitch for eight," broken-nose guy rumbles, his dark gaze shifting back to mine once again. A fucked-up smirk crosses his bloodied face, silently telling me that he'lI take this right to the end just so he can be the one to have the pleasure of ending me.
My stomach sinks with each new bid, wide eyes, taking in the slew of twisted sick gazes upon
my body. I wonder just how much fucking me into submission is worth to them.
"Nine hundred."
"A million," Broken Nose throws back, the confidence in his tone making me want to tear his testicles out through his throat and strangle him with them.
"A million, one."
"A million, two."
Each new bid tastes like poison on my tongue, and I watch broken-nose guy closely as hesitation begins creeping into his stare. He's almost at his limit, and that's proved only a moment later when he raises his hand again. "A million, two fifty."
The auctioneer shakes his head. "No half bids, Sir. Can you give me a million, three?"
"A million, two fifty," Broken Nose argues.
"You know the rules of my auction. I'll accept a million, three. Otherwise, bow out and make room for the real bidders."
Broken Nose clenches his jaw and glances back at me. Just to rub salt in the wound, I raise my hand to the base of my throat, drawing my thumb across it and signaling just how quickly I'Il end him if he were to win. He narrows his gaze, then raises his hand. "A million, three."
The auctioneer nods. "Welcome back to the party," he says before looking around at the crowd. "Do I hear a million, four?"
"Right here," a new bidder says, raising his hand and making Broken Nose's eyes widen in outrage, his face turning red with rage. The numbers continue rising, and I turn in my cage, gripping the bars and resting my head against it, no longer caring who wins. It's all the same. Whether I go to Broken Nose or some other asshole, they're all going to treat me the same. I'll be a prize.
Something to destroy.
Property to be used.
A shadow falls beside my cage, and I lift my head from the bars to find the intense, strange man I'd seen earlier staring right back at me. His gaze narrows on mine, and I'm struck by just how dark his eyes really are. It's like staring into two deep pits of hell that beckon me in. There's no doubt in my mind, this man is the devil.
His gaze falls away, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands still trembling against the bars. It's as though his stare alone is enough to hold me captive. This man is worse than I could have thought. Seeing him up close like this rattles me to the bone.
He takes just a single past cage, and I watch as
the men around him hesitantly shuffle away, their sharp gazes quickly morphing into unease. The man raises his head and looks straight at the auctioneer. "This one is mine," he says in a deep, thick, Romanian accent.
The auctioneer fumbles, his eyes widening as everyone whips around to take in this strange, terrifying man. I watch as the auctioneer glances toward the piece of shit running this show, visibly shaken by the newcomer's presence. The man who snatched me off the street and put this whole thing together glances down toward my cage, looking over
me before turning his sharp stare on this Romanian nightmare.
"We can negotiate in private," he says. I realize that every last person in this fucked-up underground warehouse knows exactly who this man is. And the fact that he's shown an interest me is some kind of big deal–I just wish I knew why.
"No," the terrifying man says, that thick accent waking something lost deep within me. "I said she is mine. I will take her now