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She turns to him coolly. “It’s not. But you can be assured the amount will far exceed her expectations.”
“I’m fine with it,” I say. She pushes the paperwork I’m supposed to sign across the desk to me.
There’s a tiny thrill of being in charge for a second, even if it’s not real, and even if I’ll pay for it later. This is supposed to be all about me right now, and for once, Uncle Harris isn’t going to get his way. It doesn’t seem to register to him and he clears his throat to argue.
Ms. Calloway’s brow furrows and she rests her hand on the paperwork before I can take it. “April?” she asks. “Is this something you’re really interested in being part of?”
She looks at Uncle Harris, who finally looks away, remembering what’s at stake. He can’t act like he’s in charge or she’ll know I’m being coerced.
“If you’re sure you’re getting a fair shake,” he says as if we walked out of here right now he wouldn’t explode with enough rage to shake the Brooklyn Bridge on the other side of the city. “That’s all I’m here for.”
I can’t make out what the papers say, and it doesn’t matter anyway. That minuscule thrill of power is gone, replaced with a fear that freezes my hand on the pen. I stiffly sign my name, keeping my head down to hide the tears I can’t seem to blink back. With another deep breath, I gush about how excited I am. How does she not hear how robotic I sound? I guess I’m a better actress than I thought.
There’s some more chat, and a few laughs, but I’m no longer there. Panic is crashing around in me like a wild animal caught in a net. It’s all I can do to stand up, shake her hand, and smile while I tell her I’ll see her again tonight for the auction.
This is it. I’ve known for months now, but always thought there would be a way out. It’s never been so real.
Ms. Calloway directs us toward a back exit and as we leave, I see a man standing near the door. He catches my eye and for a brief second I come back to the moment, my fear and desperation receding at the way his brow furrows over his deep blue eyes in the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen on a man. He takes up almost the entire hallway, his broad shoulders and hard pecs stretching his black t-shirt taut across his tall frame.
Our eyes meet and the concern in his is palpable. Is he an angel sent to save me? Golden blond hair falls in waves almost to those big shoulders, certainly making him look like one. Hispiercing eyes seem brave enough to stand up to someone even as awful as my uncle. I must have stopped dead in the hall without realizing it, locked in this man’s gaze.
Uncle Harris reaches to shove me along before I can somehow ruin everything, only stopping short of renewing his death grip on my arm when he sees the angel’s eyes turn to him. His perfect face is now a mask of scrutiny and a muscle works in his jaw. He turns toward Uncle Harris, his big hands tightening at his sides. He’s going to do it; he’s going to save me.
“We’ve got lots to do, April,” Uncle Harris says in his jovial voice that has fooled so many in the past. “Let’s get going, hon.”
I wait for my angel to swoop in and smite my wicked uncle, but he only frowns and reaches to open the back door for us. Disappointment hits like a sledgehammer to my middle as Uncle Harris guides me through the door, and I tear my gaze from the beautiful man.
No one who could work at a place like this could be anything other than a devil, no matter how angelic he looks. My last shred of hope is gone. No one will save me.
Chapter 2
Michael
I don’t really love my job as the head bouncer at The Black Door, and I especially don’t love it on auction night. In fact, watching all these obscenely rich men bid for women makes my skin crawl. It’s taken more than my share of self-control to keep from punching a few of the entitled assholes over the last two years.
Why stay, then? Since it’s once again auction night, I find myself asking that question. And it’s the same answer. Two answers, really.
The job pays ridiculously well. An insane amount I couldn’t get anywhere else. For the last two years, I’ve been scrimping and saving to get to France, where I can start bringing the broken-down vineyard I bought from my old army buddy back to life. It’s taken living in a shoebox and giving up every comfort, but pretty soon I’ll be where I belong, in the heart of the French countryside, making amazing wine.
The second reason is that all the women who sign themselves up for the monthly auction do so willingly, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s desperation, thrill-seeking, maybe they just want to make a shit ton of money for one night’s work.Hell, we even have repeat participants, and they’re all there because they want to be.
I still don’t have to like it, and I like my boss, Nikol Antonov even less. He puts up a big front of propriety to lull his rich patrons into thinking the auctions are legitimate, but if Antonov didn’t own half the city and most of the police force along with it, a lot of those guys would have been in jail a long time ago. And it just takes one person to grow a conscience and the whole place could get raided on any of the auction nights. I don’t want to go down for something I don’t believe in. Not when I can practically smell the grapes and feel the sunshine on my shoulders.
Six or eight months more, tops, and I’ll get out. And if a bunch of women make their own fortunes in the meantime, who am I to get in their way if this is the way they want to make it?
I sense the tension in the current meeting with the club’s manager and stand near the doorway. Everything must turn out fine because I hear Calloway congratulating the latest participant on how rich she’s going to be. She makes the same joke as always — you have to lose it sometime, right? Why not make a fortune at the same time? It makes my skin crawl.
My heart sinks to hear this one’s a virgin. For some reason, they always hit me the hardest. Probably some misplaced romantic notion, because once I get the vineyard up and running, I’m sure I’ll want to settle down. I have to stop worrying about these girls and their choices.
Except, when this one comes out, I’m not so sure it’s really her choice. She has a delicate, stunningly beautiful face that’s wreathed with long, glossy dark hair. It almost reminds me of the very door out front that this place is named after. The smile on her face is forced and when our eyes meet, they’re full of nothing short of terror.
Well, of course she’d be nervous if she’s one of the virgins. The old, tense-looking guy she’s with makes to grab her and my instincts take over. Not on my watch. He recognizes the look in my eyes at the same time I recognize the look in his. This isn’t a good guy. He calls her April. It’s a perfect name for her since she’s as pretty as a spring day. If only there weren’t such dark clouds seeming to hang over her.
The old man doesn’t grab her, which means I don’t get to hit him. Instead, I open the door, trying to give the girl a signal. Another glance and I’ll intervene. She puts her head down with a soft sigh that’s almost imperceptible but goes through me like a knife blade. I have no way of knowing if my hunch is correct, but I know I’m not letting her out of my sight.
I tell Calloway I’m going out, not waiting to hear what she says and follow the odd pair at a distance. As soon as they round the corner, the man’s hand juts out to grab her arm. I can’t hear what he’s saying. He looks a mix of excited and angry. The girl just looks miserable but makes no move to pull away.
“April,” I say out loud, liking the way it sounds.
