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Naturally, Dominika’s right there, shoving me toward him.
“Charleigh,” he croons. “I’ve heard so much about you.” His tone is flat but oily and runs down my skin, leaving a smelly, sticky residue I want to scratch until I bleed.
Once again, my stomach flips, like some sort of warning bell.
I glance at Dominika who is, of course, beaming. She’s behind all this. It’s clear as day.
How a grotesque man like this generates the reaction he does in those around him—Dominika’s fawning and the attention of the club members—is beyond me. But when I think about it further, I guess it’s not. I’m learning about this world, and its strange idiosyncrasies.
Money is all you need.
And the more you have, the better. Nothing else matters. That’s the rule here, where power and respect are bought rather than earned.
“Who is that gross man? And why won’t he leave me alone?” I ask Niko later. I’m torn between relief at seeing a familiar face, and the temptation to stab him in the heart for wanting to sell me at auction.
Niko’s looking at me, but isn’t really focused, and clearly does not see the pleading in my eyes. The question is, can he do anything to help?
Willhe do anything to help?
Please, please let this be a nightmare I wake from. Maybe I should have been a praying person, one of devout faith like my mother.
A lot of good that did her.
No amount of praying is going to release me from this, not that God wants to hear what I have to say anyway.
And thank goodness Mother isn’t around to see what’s become of our family. If she were still here, this would surely kill her.
I thought Niko might provide some hope, and if not some hope, some insights. But when I see his reaction, or lack thereof, I’m not so sure.
He looks around the lounge like he’s searching for something. “I’ll remind him of the rules,” he says distractedly. “I… I have some things to take care of today.”
He finally looks at me, and there’s something different about him, something I’ve not seen before. He’s dark and cold. Hard. His lips twitch, I’m pretty sure involuntarily.
“Niko? What’s going on?” I ask.
Across the room, the bartender is waving at me to come pick up the drinks he’s poured. I throw him a pleading look, not at all certain he can read it, but I am desperate for a few more moments with Niko.
He rubs his chin, then scrapes his hair back and off his forehead. “We just got word that a shipment containing important cargo is missing. I… I don’t have time for anything else right now.”
I see a flash of regret in his eyes, or maybe Iwantto see it so badly, I am imagining it. But his brusqueness really says it all. He has priorities and for me to think I might be one of them is naïve and stupid.
“What kind of cargo, Niko?”
“Guns,” he says simply. “I have to go.”
I watch him retreat. What had he been looking for in the lounge? It’s nearly empty, aside from the men drinking expensive wine, and the troll Alexei, being fawned over by Dominika, and watched over by the men who I finally figured out are his bodyguards.
I want to believe Niko stopped by to check on me. True, he has no time for me right now. He’s got to take care of business.
But we have a connection. Right?
Yeah, a connection to an auction.
I shudder to think that, on top of the things carried out in the club, the guys also have business dealings having to do with guns.
Guns.
I’ve been around guns a bit, since Pops buys and sells them. For him, it’s always been a necessary part of his business and why he got a firearms license. There are a lot of guns out there, and when people need money, they can be converted into quick cash.
