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And with that, the conversation is over as someone who knows him spots him and calls us over.
“Isiah, it’s lovely to see you. I hear that there will be wedding bells soon,” a short, middle-aged man says, smirking at me. “Such a beautiful prize you’ve won.” His brow furrows. “But I assume you are not attending the auction?”
The lady next to him elbows him in the ribs. “You know that’s not common knowledge.”
“Oh, come on, Helen. I’m sure Isiah knows about it. He is very close to Gio.”
I straighten, wondering what they’re talking about, as Isiah’s jaw clenches so hard it looks like he’s trying to break it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have important people to talk to.”
The two people’s faces fall and they look very offended, as Isiah guides me away from them. Once we’re out of earshot, I yank him to a stop and turn to look at him. “Why were you so rude to that couple?” I ask, unsure what his problem with them is.
“Let’s just say they don’t deserve civility,” he replies, a steely edge to his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t pretend you’re unaware of your father’s activities at this club.”
I feel my stomach sink as I honestly have no idea, but I sense it isn’t good.
“I may be a criminal and do unspeakable things, but I draw the line at the shit he’s got going on in the basement tonight.”
I move closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Tell me what he’s doing.”
He glances at my hand, which rests on his arm, and then back into my eyes. “Your father is selling kidnapped children to pedophiles.”
Those words feel like a physical blow, echoing through my skull like a hammering gong in a temple. I stare at Isiah in disbelief, tears shining in my eyes, my throat closing up as the stark truth of what is happening beneath us is too much to bear. I want to tell him he’s lying or that he’s wrong, but deep down, I know the truth.
He’s trading in slavery, exploiting innocent lives for his own gain. People who deserve nothing more than love and support are bought and sold like objects to be abused by twisted predators—all under the guise of a normal club on the surface, but below ground... I can hardly bear to think of it.
25
ISIAH
I’m getting too sloppy with Bella as I stare at her, unable to believe the words that slipped out of my mouth.
“What did you say?” Bella asks.
I swallow hard. “You heard me.”
“Are you saying that right now my dad is selling children to pedophiles in the basement?”
Why the hell did I say anything?
It’s clear that this electric, toxic thing between us is getting out of control. As if I can’t help myself but share things with her, which is dangerous. And yet, if she’s going to be my wife, maybe it’s a good thing that I’m being honest. “Yes.” There’s no backtracking now. Bella heard me loud and clear.
“That’s sick.”
I nod in response. “I agree.”
“Then why are you here?”
I crack my neck as far as Gio knows I think this is a standard party, and I’m completely unaware of the sick auction playing out below. “Your father invited me to the party, not the auction,” I say simply.
“It always happens here?” she confirms.
I shrug. “Possibly.”
