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I’m frozen, shaking.
What the hell am I doing?
Chapter 4
Easton
I linger on the sidewalk outside the club, looking at the glossy ebony doors with distaste. My client is expecting me and I have a feeling if I stay on Nikol Antonov’s good side, he’ll send lucrative business deals my way.
An hour, tops. I’ll sip a drink and make small talk and then pretend I have an emergency. A few other men wearing dark suits slip into the club. They have an air of excitement about them. Antonov had said it was a very special night and my mind goes to high-stakes gambling. Though I don’t particularly enjoy it, one hand of poker won’t kill me and I push through the heavy doors.
It’s already dark outside, but it still takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light in the hall leading to the main part of the club. The walls are covered in deep purple which is so dark that it’s almost black. Old-fashioned gold sconces light the hallway, throwing out barely any light. The main area is a little better lit and screams old-world decadence. They arranged velvet couches against the walls and the long bar is highly polished wood with a gleaming brass rail. Hundreds of bottles of rare wine and spirits line the mirrored wall behind the bar.
Antonov sees me from his post near the bar and he breaks away from the men he’s speaking with to greet me.
“I’m sure you recognize some of the clientele,” he says, pumping my hand. “You can see you fit right in.”
While the band plays, I notice a few of my business associates and rivals among the whiskey-sipping patrons. Except for the bartender, there aren’t any women present, which strikes me as odd. But maybe Antonov is as old-fashioned as his lux decor, and this club is strictly for men to hash out deals and increase their fortunes. All the more reason to cut out as soon as I can because I don’t believe in that bullshit.
“The band is great,” I say honestly, spying a table near the stage and heading that way. “I’ll just enjoy the music for now,” I tell him, hoping he’ll get the hint and go schmooze with someone else so I can slip out unnoticed soon.
He finally moves on, and it’s only a few minutes later that the band ends its set and leaves the stage. The other patrons surge forward, excited for whatever is about to come next. It seems like the special event is about to start.
“I hear there’s a virgin up for auction tonight,” someone says. Well, this is seeming less and less like a poker game.
Stepping back, I edge closer to the door, unsure if I want to be a part of whatever is about to happen. Disgust roles through me; I’m not in the habit of paying for sex. Eager laughter surrounds me and I’m not happy at all. Nikol may think this is fun, but I am not happy. Let them do whatever they see fit with their millions. I don’t want any part of this debauchery.
Antonov jumps up on stage, a smarmy grin on his face. “You’ve been waiting long enough,” he shouts, waving his hands to get everyone to act like the grown-ass businessmen they are and not a pack of hungry wolves. It’s a futile effort. “I won’t keep you waiting, and I won’t keep you guessing, either. Yes, we have a virgin tonight, and she can’t wait to go home with someone special. Bid generously, gentlemen, because she’s worth it.”
He hustles to the edge of the stage and the curtain parts. I turn, ready to muscle my way out of there, when I’m frozen in my tracks. The shouted bids deafen me as I’m pushed forward against the stage once more. Completely trapped.
Unwillingly, my eyes travel to the stage, and a red-haired beauty stumbles out.
The virgin on stage can’t be Sloane, can it? But there’s no mistaking my gorgeous, shy intern parading back and forth in a barely there, see-through outfit. My throat goes dry and my cock turns to steel when I catch a glimpse of the curves that have kept me awake at night since I hired her. Throwing some elbows, I get closer to the stage—unable to stop myself like a moth to a flame. Her smooth skin is only a few feet away and I force myself not to reach out and stroke her calf as she passes.
She glances down to keep from stumbling in her sky-high heels. Our eyes lock, and she looks horrified when she recognizes me. I feel quite the same because now I have to fire her. Disappointment crashes over me like a tidal wave but, at the same time, I’m consumed by the urges I’ve been fighting for so long.
Virgin. Virgin. Virgin.The word pulses in my brain.
My obsession is for sale. She could be mine. The things I’d love to teach, the ways I could make her scream with pleasure… And God, I’d be the only one who’d ever explored her exquisite body? She’s clearly into this sort of thing, so why not indulge?
The numbers flying from the other patrons are rising fast, and already huge. I tear my eyes from her stunned face and let them travel down her body. This time, I notice her legs are trembling, and her hands are clenched so tightly that her knuckles are white. When our eyes meet again, hers are blinking back tears. It’s not just because she recognizes me. Maybe she’s not so into this sort of thing, after all.
MINE.Something primal within me shrieks and suddenly it doesn’t matter why she’s here; she’s not leaving with anyone but me. The thought of any other man doing the things I want to do with her enrages me. We’re already at half a million, but I shout out double that amount, hoping it will get everyone else to back down. They’re worse than wolves, though, and the bidding continues.
Chapter 5
Sloane
My eyes lock with Mr. Stanhope’s and my mouth pops open in shock. I’ve been set up. Kate lied about him not coming to the club tonight. She wants me knocked out of the race for the full-time position. Damnit, how could I do something so dumb? There’s no way I can ever show my face at the firm again.
Sure, my immediate troubles would be solved and Gran and I wouldn’t be out on the street, but now the career I wanted so badly was going to end before it even got started. If I dare to show my face at the office on Monday, I’ll be fired instantly. Certainly blackballed as well, so trying to find another internship in town is out.
My body shakes violently as I watch my future crash and burn.
The bidding for my virginity starts, fast and furious, the numbers making me dizzy. I can’t think about my ruined future now, or that a man I respect and admire is seeing me practically naked on a stage. Selling myself. I have to concentrate on not crying, so I force myself to look away from Mr. Stanhope’s rage filled eyes.
Shock rips through me when he adds his voice to the other bidders and doubles the amount. Is he bidding out of pity to save me? If so, I’ll never be able to repay him.
