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“Stop,” I shout at the men. “I’ll do anything, just—Please don’t do this!”
The man who has my father by the collar scoffs. “Your pops owes the boss over two hundred grand, sweetheart. He’s long overdue for this visit. There’s nothing you can do.”
Before I can fall to my knees and truly start begging, the leader gives me a peculiar look, his eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s not entirely true, now that I think about it. That auction’s tonight.”
“No fucking way,” Dad protests, kicking limply at his captor. “Absolutely not—”
“What auction?” I rush out. My head is swimming. Two hundred thousand dollars? My dad is that deep in the hole? How on earth did I not know this? I don’t know what I have that I could auction off, but there has to be something I can do. And if there’s something I can do to save my dad from whatever demise these men have in mind, then I have to do it.
My dad may have been absent, even neglectful, but he’s still my dad. He still matters to me, as frustrated as he makes me so much of the time.
“Let’s just say that a sweet little thing like you could probably pay us back after a night’s work and then some,” the leader says, a strange smile twisting his face.
Oh my god.
Everything suddenly clicks into place. It’s an auction, but it’s not for antiques or artwork—it’s for people. I don’t even have to confirm the suspicion; I know that my dad’s involved with criminals, and I know they deal in all sorts of dark and depraved things.
“Don’t do it, Felicia,” my father says, tears beginning to well eyes even as he struggles against the goon’s hold.
“If you’re willing to come downtown with us and negotiate, we may be able to let your old man continue being the miserable sack of shit he is,” the leader explains to me, his ugly smirk making my stomach curdle. “It might be an illegal establishment, but it’s very expensive. Very exclusive. No one’s gonna hurt you. They have to ask for permission first.”
I meet my father’s eyes as my blood runs ice cold in my veins.
Like so many times before, I can feel my dreams beginning to crumble beneath my feet, but like every other time, I already know what I have to do. My father’s life isn’t worth me passing up the chance to save it. I straighten my back and stand tall before looking the leader in his beady eyes.
“I’ll do it,” I say, sounding stronger than I feel. “Take me downtown.”
Chapter 3
Brock
As I make my way through the darkened club, I can’t help thinking how much I’d rather be at home.
The jetlag is really kicking my ass. It might be late here, but it’s the earliest hours of the morning in London. My body thinks I should be dead asleep right now, but unfortunately, that’s not happening.
Warranted, it’s not like I wanted to go out tonight. I’m not really one for clubs of any kind, but associates of mine wanted to celebrate the company’s acquisition, so here I am, walking through a gentlemen’s club ominously named The Black Door.
I’d heard of it before now, but I’ve never actually been here before. I didn’t even know places like this even existed anymore. It’s decorated like an underground Prohibition Era speakeasy, but it has the city views that the rich and famous have come to see as a mark of their status.
I can’t lie and say it’s not beautiful, but this sort of establishment really,reallyisn’t my speed. I might have more money than I know what to do with, but blowing it all on a night at an intensely exclusive club like this one isn’t what I’d spend it on. Too many charities need money before I’d even think of blowingit all here on a few expensive cocktails and a night in a back room spent with a woman I don’t know.
I know what happens in places like this. I might be a bit of a homebody compared to my wealthy peers, but I’m not so out of touch to think that the women milling around, flirting with the men that have paid truly exorbitant amounts of money to be here, are here just to look pretty.
One of my associates, Phil, spots me and starts to wave, drawing my attention to him as he stands at the bar with the rest. He claps me on the shoulder as I approach.
“Brock, thank fuck you’re here. I thought you’d bail,” he says, eyeing me over his snifter of amber liquid. Cognac, knowing him. “What’ll you have? Tab’s on me tonight.”
I glance behind the bar at the dozens of bottles on display. Feeling smug, I order a rare scotch from a bottle that looks like it hasn’t even been opened. I know for a fact that it’s exceedingly rareandexceedingly expensive. Maybe ordering it will teach them all a lesson about them to dragging me out to party with them. I don’t even care if it’s good at this point, as long as it makes Phil’s wallet hurt a little.
Maybe I’m grumpier about all of this than I thought.
When the rocks glass slides across the polished wood surface of the bar, I pick it up and take a long drag of the scent.
Oh yeah. This definitely smells like a hellish tab. Perfection. The best part? It doesn’t taste half bad.
“So, what’s going on tonight?” I ask after taking a languid sip.
“Best night of the month,” Phil smirks at me, nodding at a stage across the room from the bar. “You won’t be disappointed.”
