I push my shoulders and force a smile onto my face. “Right. Got it.”
I’m about to head back to the bar for a fresh tray of champagne when she stops me.
“Fi?”
I glance back at her face. It’s suddenly serious.
“Good luck.”
My lips twitch, nervously. “You too, Hal. You too.”
I spendthe next couple of hours circulating with fresh drinks and appetizers and making conversation wherever I can. Some guests bite; others don’t. There’s a particular gentleman I haven’t seen before who seems friendly. He gives me a polite smile whenever I pass and has asked how my evening is going. He doesn’t look like a murderer or a mob man. Part of me hopes he bids on me—he might be gentle.
There’s an ancient grandfather clock in one corner—the onlyevidence I can find that time, contrary to how it feels, is actually passing.
The closer the short hand gets to twelve, the faster my heart beats. When the clock signals just five minutes to go, sweat breaks through the pores all over my skin.
Have I done enough? Have I been pleasant enough?Sexyenough? Has anyone bid for me? Would the condition I wrote down by my name put them off?
Nerves flare across every contour of my body like flames licking at gasoline-covered ground.
I spot Hallie making her way toward me, a sweet but forced smile on her face.
She stands in front of me with wide eyes. “It’s time,” she says, and I catch the slight tremble in her voice.
I follow her to the front of the room where we’re joined by eight others—six women and two men, all of them guests. Hallie and I are the only ‘employees’ up for auction.
Turning my face toward her ear, I whisper. “Is there a reason no one else who works here has signed up?”
Her breaths are steady. “Not everyone has an urgent need to make a ton of money, fast. Plus, a lot of them are in relationships.”
I slowly turn back to face the room. Alcohol has loosened limbs and jaws, and now most people are sitting up, their pupils widened, their lips wet. The room falls quiet when three men enter. Each one is masked but I recognize Il Diavolo straight away. He doesn’t stand any taller or broader than the other two but he carries authority like it’s a breath in his lungs.
He and one of the men take seats to our left, so I’m positioned furthest from him. It doesn’t stop my heart from having a fit. His gaze rests heavily on my skin, the unknown and the anticipation making me feel lightheaded.
The third man takes a mic and stands before us all.
“Who are they?” I whisper to Hallie.
“That’s Cassio Bellucci,” she mutters under her breath. “Andseated, Il Diavolo, and… that’s Remo.” Her voice swells a little. “Remo Bellucci.”
My chest pumps with fear. I’m sharing a stage with the mob and I’m about to be auctioned off to a stranger. How has this become my life in only two weeks?
“Ladies and gentleman,” Cassio starts. “It’s been an absolute pleasure welcoming you all here this evening for Fallen Angels.”
A round of applause follows and my pulse throbs against my ear drum. I barely hear the rest of Cassio Bellucci’s speech, eventually anchoring my attention when he calls for quiet so he can announce the winning bids.
The first Angel to fall is woman who’s been ‘sold’ to the man I’d hoped would bid for me. My heart drops instantly. A flicker of recognition lights up the lower half of the woman’s face and she makes her way through the tables amidst more clapping and whooping toward the man.
He immediately pulls her onto his lap and a dart of apprehension freezes my heartbeat. That could be me in a few minutes. In a short time, I could be someone’s plaything.
The next Fallen Angel is a man I haven’t seen at the club before. He’s ‘won’ by a jovial, pink-cheeked man sitting with a group in the center of the room. The winning bidder punches the air when it’s announced.
The man to my left blushes beet red beneath his mask before making his way over. Then, he promptly drops to his knees, lays his head on the man’s lap and closes his eyes blissfully.
“Some people are already in relationships with one another,” Hallie explains. “They just do this for fun.”
I gulp. Hard.
