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She nods with understanding. “Me, too. As much as I’ve been telling myself I’m totally okay with this, I’m still a slave. It’s the twenty-first century, and I’m a fuckingslave.”
So am I. That part is the hardest to grapple with. All of us in this room are standing in the land of the free, the home of the brave, and we’re quietly, fearfully waiting for our new owners to slap their chains on us.
And there’s no police swarming the hotel. No S.W.A.T. team, no nonprofit organization pulling a sting operation. No one and nothing is standing between us and our impending lives of sexual slavery.
However long or short those lives may end up being.
I shiver again and wrap my arms around my middle. Suddenly, I’m grateful for the waiting period before the bearded man comes for me. I know why he bought me, and that look in his eyes promised I won’t enjoy it for a second.
That’s what he wants—for me to cry, scream, and beg for mercy while he breaks my body into submission. He wants me to become like the women who were here earlier. Vacant. Lifeless. Wholly compliant to every dark desire he has in store for me.
What will he do when I finally break?
I can’t let things get that far. I have a little girl waiting for me. I have a new little one growing inside me.
I can’t let him break me.
And I won’t. I’ve survived this long. I survived Dad’s temper and Martin’s torment. I can handle this.
The door opens. All heads turn, apprehensive, to see who might be joining us. Another round of slaves, maybe?
To my horror, it’s Raizo—followed by the bearded man.
Both of them instantly find me among the women and their lips curve into jack o’ lantern smiles. Raizo saunters over to his desk and settles into the leatherback swivel chair with a sigh. He beckons the bearded man to him, who quietly grunts and sets a large duffel bag on top of the desk.
“It’s all there,” he grumbles.
Raizo unzips the bag and begins to pull out stacks of hundred dollar bills. “It’s not that I don’t trust you…” he calmly explains.
Bearded Man sighs and opens his suit jacket, pulls out a few more stacks of cash, and sets them on the desk as well. “Plusthe surcharge, as agreed.” His voice comes out in a thick, Slavic accent. I can’t quite place it, but it makes his words rumble from his mouth in a deep baritone.
Raizo flips through the new stacks and nods. “Once I have this counted?—”
“The extra fee is forimmediateretrieval.”
The Yakuza boss eyes Bearded Man for a moment, then nods again. “Alright. But mark my word, if a single bill is missing?—”
“You know where to get it.”
Raizo suddenly breaks into a chuckle. “That I do! That I do.” His gaze slides to me, and he beckons me forward with a quick flick of his fingers.
When I don’t immediately approach, one of his men grabs me by the arm, turns me, and shoves me forward toward Bearded Man.
“I could offer a significant reduction in fees in exchange for…” Raizo scans my body, which instantly makes my skin crawl. “A slight delay in handing this one over. To ensure she meets your standards, of course.”
Bearded Man’s face twists into something that’s half-scowl, half-bemused smile. “If you didn’t do your ‘quality check’ before the sale, that’s your problem. Not mine.”
The host’s smile wavers on Raizo’s face for a quick moment. Then he sighs, nods his assent, and snaps something in Japanese to the man who shoved me forward. “Very well. I must remind you, no returns or exchanges.”
I feel Bearded Man rest a heavy hand on my shoulder, and he squeezes almost painfully hard. “That won’t be an issue.”
“I should think not.” Raizo cocks a smile at me. “You’ll be good for him, won’t you, Clara? I sang your praises and promised your new master here the best we have in stock.”
Translation: don’t fuck this up or you’ll regret it.
I can’t help but close my eyes now, just in time to avoid looking at the man who bought me when his hand slides from my shoulder to grab and squeeze my ass.
“I think you’re right, Watanabe,” he chuckles. “I’m going to enjoy breaking this one in.”
