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Unlike the Russian beside her with a high tolerance to vodka, she would start to feel the burn of alcohol soon if she didn’t slow down.
Another waiter, another damn drink. Was that all these people did? He passed a third to both of them, taking extra care to brush his fingers over hers.
Disgusting.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly in her best-polished tone.
His eyes lingered a little longer than needed as he brought his tumbler to his lips. Sevastyan’s astute gaze didn’t miss that little detail either. His fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress along her back, so much so she thought he would rip the delicate silk leaving her naked in the middle of the room if he were not careful.
“Zazdarovje,” she said, remembering what the Russian had said back in Sevastyan’s office as their form of cheers. She kicked back the clear liquid, pushing through the sweet burn.
That brought a smile to his face and a sheen of hunger to his eyes she hadn’t intended to stir.
“You have a special woman on your arm this eve, Volkov. She can handle her drink and business. Be careful to not let her go. She may be mistaken for part of treasures on display and I might be in mood to play.”
She turned her gaze to Sevastyan to find his expression tight. The gravelly sound of a growl hit the back of Sevastyan’s throat.
“Easy,” Matteo warned unnecessarily over comms, as the man taunted Sevastyan.
“A wise man never takes what doesn’t belong to him unless he’s looking for an early grave.” There was a note of scorn in his voice and only a deaf man would miss the lethal implications should Dimitris try to follow through with his desire to play.
Dimitris knew he made a serious error. He didn’t step back or make any move, but his eyes told another story. Fear took root, and she doubted he feared much.
Okay, well that broke the ice.
She hoped they stopped measuring dicks soon. There wasn’t much to duck behind if the shit hit the fan. She wanted to crack this place wide open, rained down hell, save the girls and get the hell out of here. Her brothers had to be freaking the hell out. She hadn’t contacted them in well over forty-eight hours. They had been expecting her days ago. When she didn’t show up there was no way they sat back and twiddled their thumbs.
The lights dimmed signaling it was time for the evening to start. Unlike at Haven, she knew damn well the show Dimitris was about to put on wasn’t consensual and far from titillating. To her anyway. The sick fuckers here were another story.
Ignoring Sevastyan’s challenge with a quirk of his brow, Dimitris changed tactics. “Come with me. Once you see my hand, you can talk.”
Men broke from an unseen door from behind them and unceremoniously heaved Indigo’s lifeless body like a bag of trash, retracing their steps.
Dimitris turned, signaling them to follow as they headed for the large door she spotted earlier. He led them down a spiraling staircase and away from the art display upstairs. The passage was wide enough to fit three people side by side. The hand-carved stone slabs had a strip of plush red carpet running down the center, muffling the woman’s steps behind her.
High walls bowed overhead; the wall face covered with what felt like five inches of padding masked by decadent black silk.
Soundproofing? But why?
A few more steps and she had her answer.
If upstairs was supposed to be a display of what Dimitris had to offer, the true horror was down here. They descended into a windowless room. Glass cases with heavy curtains over them slowly began to pull back to reveal a show, but unlike anything she’d ever seen. More men with floggers in hand whipped women where they stood chained to the wall. Screams rang out and the more they screamed the larger the crowd that gathered on this side of the glass. In the middle, extending from the floor stood four glass cylinders with women bared to the clientele, this time wearing collars and numbers dangling from the strap of leather around their necks. Men and women both circled the merchandise before finding a seat among plush chairs spread out opposite the main attractions.
Were these women from the containers?
She tightened her hold on Sevastyan’s arm. He was quiet.
Sensing her unease, Sevastyan guided her in front of him to follow Dimitris to the front of the room. Great. Front-row seats. She raised her gaze to his only to find a stone-cold mask in place of the warm lover she’d known hours ago.
The lights dimmed until nothing but the women in the lighted cylinders became the main focal point. The curtains closed on one horror as the other began.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a variety of priceless pieces of work for you to pick from.” The leather-clad men from upstairs stepped from the shadows to come and stand by the encased women, leashes in hand.
“Our first priceless piece of art tonight has been trained in the arts of pleasuring her master. Or masters. Untouched in all ways and clean. The starting bid is eight million dollars.”
Hands went up and a bidding war broke out.
Within five minutes the fate of the young women was sealed, leashed, and passed on to their new owners.
