Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I lean on the door and look down at her.
“Yes, it will,” I tell her, then stand and close the door. I won’t ever lie to her. She’s already buckled in when I get in on the other side.
“Can I get drunk?” she asks.
“Now?” I question as I pull out of the parking lot.
“No, before I have sex,” she says, exasperated.
I shake my head. “No, Honey, you need to be sober.”
“That’s unfair.” She huffs.
“This is always your choice. You can pull out at any point. But I will tell you now, some have lost it in worse ways. You can take control of this.”
I feel her gaze on me. “How did you lose yours? I know it’s different for men, probably easier.”
A dark laugh erupts from my core. If only she knew. She has no idea the question she is asking nor the ugliness that it brings to the surface. “Let’s just say I was in unfavorable circumstances with no power.”
She goes quiet, then her question creeps through the air. “Were you hurt?” she asks. And I can feel the wound wanting to reopen like her gentle voice is trying to coax it out.
I push it back down.
In my industry, it’s mostly women who are considered victims. But if you’re a male—
“I found my power,” is all I say in response. I took it all back and built an empire out of it. I provided roles and security for those who also wanted to take theirs back.
Her soft hand lands on mine and rests on the center console.
I glance at Honey and the sadness that radiates from her pours into me. It makes me uncomfortable and yet soothes me all at once.
“I am not a good person, Honey,” I admit into the silence of the car.
“Everyone’s lying if they think they are,” she replies and turns toward the window.
And I think it’s more for my sake than her desire to avert her gaze this time. But her hand doesn’t leave mine. And I’m painfully reminded this is why I didn’t want to touch her.
Because I would hurt her.
Make her dirty.
But I’m the selfish prick who won’t remove my hand, either.
CHAPTER 22
Dawson
The collectors in charge of the Ivanov Auctions stand across from me.
Anya sits there, the red lipstick starkly contrasting her rich porcelain skin. Her thick, glossy red hair is wrapped into a tight bun as she looks over a tray of unique jewelry with a magnifying glass. It’s unusual for her brother, Aleksandr, not to be in the room, but I suppose they sometimes have to divide their business dealings.
Two of her guards stand behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after we auctioned you off only a few months ago,” she says thoughtfully.
I helped Crue with a personal task by selling myself at one of the Ivanov’s events. And he owes me a favor for that. “What can I say? Business is going well.”
She beams a smile. Anya, although beautiful, reminds me of a snake. Entrancing, but with a bite. And the Ivanov family is not one I’m willing to go against unless necessary, of course.
“Didn’t the Torrisi woman end up dead only a month after you and Crue Monti last walked into this establishment?”
I knew it had been a risk involving Crue and that could even jeopardize my business, but I leveraged a return favor would hold a greater value in the future.
“It was very sad news to hear,” I say with mock sadness as I remove my jacket and sit across from her.
She pouts and watches me. “Very sad indeed.” Her Russian accent is anything but sympathetic. “But you could always return to my good books if you’re willing to do something for me. Or many things to me.” She eyes me.
I give her a smile. “Maybe you should have bid on me last time.”
She laughs and snaps her fingers. One of her guards picks up the jewelry and leaves the room.
“Another virgin auction, then?” Anya asks.
Our agreement has always been they get a small cut, and I advise them when they have a particular client who is looking to dabble in the services I offer.
I nod. “The usual.”
“Hm,” she purrs. “You know my brother and I enjoy exchanging business with you. Our dealings have been transparent and mutually beneficial.”
“I feel the same.”
“Then I wonder if you’re sorting your shit out,” she seethes.
And there is the bite. The venom that sits just beneath the surface.
I offer a tight smile. “Regarding?”
“I’ve been advised that a man propositioned one of my security guards to try and find out information about our next auction. Someone who boldly announced that he works for you.”
My blood drains, but I keep my composure. “And could he verify that claim?”
“No,” she admits. “And my security is wary enough of commoners and police sniffing around to know how to avoid the question. I should hope that my people will not be approached in such a way again?”