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Sasha wanted what those women had. A grand romance and to travel in luxury and opulence to all the corners of the globe. The romance part was optional… But the other. She took a deep breath and stepped into his office. The other was just a hand grab away. And she was going to grab it and go. From the moment Gina had called to tell her the latest rumor she’d heard as part of the wait staff in the exclusive Fox lounge, what she’d wanted was in reach, and she was reaching.

* * *

The Desert Fox had spared no expense for luxury or comfort in the casino and nightclub. From chandeliers to the palatial marble flooring, stepping into the Desert Fox was an oasis of indulgence. But this room was prison-cell stark. A row of fluorescent lighting hung in the windowless room, painting him in gray shadows. The only thing missing from the cell were bars and a two-way mirror. No way was this his office. Maybe this was where they brought out-of-luck gamblers. Forcing them to use blood money to repay their debt.

Venedikt Ismailov tapped his office desk. Even seated, he towered over her, and the silence built. Sweat dribbled under her uniform between the shoulder blades she pushed together. She’d come straight from work at her second job as a waitress. Her white shirt was still tucked into the wide cumberbund of her skirt. It served as her shield, most nights, from unruly clients. She would suck in her stomach and ball her toes in her black platform pumps, hiding her displeasure. Her nostrils flared at his pine forest scent. She’d grown up in Montana, a world away from the desert of Nevada. His scent was a Montana pine mixed with something lemony. There was no other way to describe it. It was him. She cracked her lips open a slash to take in more of the fragrance.

“Tell me your name.”

Of course, his first words were a command. “Sasha Velle.” Barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She saw Ms. Peterson give him the information.

“Ms. Velle, it takes a lot to ruffle my employees. But you’ve unsettled both Ms. Peterson and Mr. Daniels. So, tell me, what was it you wanted that could not be denied? More money for gambling? A better job at the Desert Fox?” She bit her lip. Refusing to panic or back down. But damn, he was a lot bigger and more dangerous looking in the small office cell.

“Next week, there is an auction…” He exhaled, his breath the only sound in the room. “Women who are putting themselves up for sale.”

His brows lowered, and his nostrils flared. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’ve heard. But auctioning anything other than art or memorabilia would be illegal. Nevada has stringent rules regarding the sale of… women. Are you suggesting, Ms. Velle,” he arched his brow, “that I would break the law?”

She squared her shoulder and pushed those shoulder blades together until they kissed. Matching her eyes to his stone wall. “I’m not. I just want to be in that auction.”

He arched his brow. “What are you selling?”

Sasha tugged at the skirt. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here straight from work. But when his secretary had let slip that he might return today, she had risked it. Egged on by the daily juggle of three crappy jobs that didn’t get her even one step closer to her dream. Did he have a dream? Did he know what it felt like to have life speed by while he sat on the sidelines, unable to enter the race? There had to be more. A universe of more. And the only thing standing between her, and it, was Venedikt Ismailov.

She tilted her chin up, and her eyes narrowed at his smirk. “I’m selling myself. I want to be entered in the auction.”

His lips flattened, the sexy full lips pressed into a thin line. The dark onyx scan of his eyes started at the top of her head. Damn him, she would not adjust her hair. Her fingers twitched to adjust her French roll and side bangs. A simple style, but it, and a bucket of gel, tamed her wild curls. Keeping her hair out of her face while she worked. He skimmed her brown-skinned face. Would he disregard her because of it? He wouldn’t be the first. She bit down on her inner cheek. Bring it. What could he say that she hadn’t heard before? As one of a few minorities in a small town, she’d heard it all. Even once called the color of hardwood floors. But so what? Hardwood floors were beautiful and classy.

People said she had the same high cheekbones as her mom’s. Perfect bow lips with their own natural pink tint. She looked good and didn’t need a man to tell her how attractive she was. She had a mirror, and she wasn’t vain or braggadocios. It just was what it was. An average pretty girl until someone noticed her eyes. The silver metallic color had earned her double takes since birth. No one could account for it. But the unusual color shot her from pretty to exotic.

As a teen, she’d dreamed of becoming a supermodel and storming the fashion world. Anything to get out of Hicksville, Montana. But those dreams skidded to a halt when her five-foot-six-inch frame stopped growing. Disappointing, but she used the years of practicing in the mirror to hold still while he continued past her face. Scanning her body. Would he prefer the rail-thin waif look of most models? She sucked her stomach in until it pressed to her spine. So what if she had curves? Men loved curves. His eyes slid past those curves. Not even a blink. Did he like it or not? His eyes traced the slopes of her legs like two hands before lifting to her eyes again.

He shrugged. “Pretty. Some might even say beautiful. But you’re in Vegas. A man can walk down the strip, and he will find a hundred other beautiful women. For sale and for free. It’s a buyer’s market, honey.”

“But how many of those women would be a virgin?”

The silence shrouded them like a wet, weighted blanket. Before a cruel bark of laughter broke it like delicate crystal being thrown at a brick wall. “Is that what you’re selling? Is that what you think is so unique? So different that you harassed my staff. Lying in wait like a street hustler trying to sell drugs on someone else’s turf.” Sasha bit her lip and took a shaky step back when he vaulted out of his chair and stalked around his desk like a hungry, prowling lion. While she stood frozen, in his territory, reeking of blood. Ven loomed over her. Larger than an Imax movie screen, scowling, as she stared up at him from the front row. She braced as if she could see his arm rearing back with the whip, and even then, she winced at the first lash of his words.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, y…yes, Mr. Ismailov.”

“Tell me, little girl, do you know who the fucking Ismailovs are?” He roared in her face. A lion announcing his kill.

She bit her lip to prevent tears from running down her face in hot streams. No, yes, no. Shit, she didn’t know. What did he want her to say? Whatever it was, she’d say it.

“We run this town. We own your mayor, governor, senator, and city councilman, from the dogcatcher to the police chief to the US Senate. No decision gets made in this town unless we approve it. I approve it. Did you really think you could come in here and try to sell me some bullshit?”

“It’s not bullshit.” The cry ripped itself from her chest. Desperate to shield her from more of his wrath. Maybe he thought she was a lying schemer. “I can take a test. Go to a doctor. I haven’t been with anybody. I swear it.”

“And I don’t give a fuck. You don’t come here and offer this shit to me like I’d be so fucking desperate for the first virgin I see…”

“But I wasn’t trying to sell myself to you. I was…” His nostrils flared wide enough for his SUV to storm inside. “I just heard about the sale, and I thought…”

“What the fuck did you think? That you could come into my establishment and offer yourself like I’m some twenty-dollar-a-lay pimp? If you want to pimp yourself out, go to any corner in Vegas, and find a guy willing to pay. Put an ad in the fucking newspaper and whore yourself around town.”

“I wasn’t trying to whore myself. It was just going to be one time.” Dammit, now the tears were falling, and she scrubbed them away with strokes as vicious as his words. “One time, one man. One day… Take my one shot. I’ve read about other girls doing the same thing. I just wanted to make some real money for once.”

“Everybody who comes to Vegas wants to make some quick money. Everybody needs for it to work, just one time. That’s why I’m fucking rich. A fucking billionaire from suckers like you, thinking there is such a thing as a get-rich-quick. Get-rich-quick is what I sell to the dumb fucks upstairs. Just one roll of the dice will solve all your problems. But that’s the curtain hiding the wizard. There is no fucking get-rich-quick… ever. Even the fucking slobs who hit big don’t keep it for long. Taxes, families, another fucking get-rich-quick scheme. They are easy marks because if you were dumb enough to fall for it once, you will fucking fall for it again. Which is why the house always wins. Always. The only people who get out unscathed are the people who come to lose. They come to Vegas to have a good time, see a great show, hang out with friends and lose money. They know they’ll lose and don’t mind because they paid for the entertainment. Everybody else. Everybody else is a fucking loser.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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