Because whatever is going to happen after I put this on cannot be good.
Still, I do what I’m told because I’d rather show a little skin than die here on this wretched boat. Maybe there will be an opportunity to fight back later.
They watch until we’re all undressed, and I swiftly put on the bikini as they look at the girl in the corner. It barely covers my nipples and pussy.
“Get up,” one of the men barks, using his gun as a sort of pointer. “Out.” He guides us out the door, forcing the crying girl to go first. It only makes her sob harder.
My heart feels like it’s beating a million times per minute as we’re pushed through a narrow metal-looking hallway, the floors underneath my feet creaking with every step. I’m dizzy from the constant swaying of the boat, but I have no time to get my bearings as the door at the end opens immediately.
A guy from the other side leans in and snarls at us, “Wait your fucking turn.” He snatches the first girl. She squeals. He slaps her across the face and drags her with him, slamming the door shut behind them.
What the fuck is going on? What are they going to do to her?
Oh my god, this is very bad.
This happened to the other girls, too, most likely. But where did they take them? And why?
No wonder the girl was crying. I’m about ready to do the same as fear and panic swirl in my chest.
I swallow hard, refusing to show my tears to these disgusting men.
If I’m going to die on this godforsaken boat, I’m at least going to go out with my pride intact.
Marcello
Stepping onto the mega-yacht with Claudio and two of my best men in tow, I take in the luxurious surroundings, which is in total contrast with the shady deals that have been done here in the past.
I’d better get my weapons. That’s the only thing I’m here for.
We’re shown to a room that where tables have been set up. Taking a seat at my designated table, we’re approached by a server. I order my usual whiskey, then glance around at the other people in attendance. I recognize men from the Polish Mafia, more Russian acquaintances of Igor, and some wealthy men.
There’s a makeshift stage up front where goods will probably be offered for bidding. The server brings my drink and also places a paddle with the number eleven engraved on it. Ignoring the paddle, I reach for the tumbler and take a sip of the amber liquid.
Just then, a group of women is led out onto the stage, all dressed in bikinis, which don’t leave much to the imagination. My top lip curls at the distasteful sight. I’m not into sex slavery and wish they started with the weapons instead.
My eyes scan over the other men in attendance, and I watch as they practically drool at the sight of the women. You’d think they would buy some class with all their wealth. Fuckers.
The auction begins, and one of Igor’s men takes the bids. I order another whiskey, and I’m halfway with the drink by the time they’re done selling the girls.
The man on stage announces a short break while they prepare the next batch of girls. Shortly after, the head of the Polish Mafia makes his way over to me.
“Marcello, how are you?” he asks as he takes a seat at my table.
“Stefan,” I murmur, inclining my head in greeting to Stefan Lizak. “Good to see you again.” I set my whiskey down, and offering him my hand, we shake.
According to some intel we got, he has an armory on the Westside with two dozen Heckler & Koch submachine guns that might be purchased at the right price. Which means I have to play nice just in case Igor doesn’t come through for me.
“I don’t usually see you at Igor’s auctions,” Stefan says, his Polish accent thick.
“I like being unpredictable,” I say smoothly.
Stefan lets out a chuckle. “To keep everyone on their toes?”
“Of course,” I murmur while reaching for the tumbler again.
He turns and gestures toward the stage. “What’ll it be for you today, Dellucci? Personally, I prefer the ones with big tits and plump lips. After I put the fear of God in them and train them to my liking, of course.”
Lord have mercy on whichever poor girl Stefan decides to buy tonight.
“I’m here for the weapons only,” I say instead. “I heard you might be able to help with a shipment of Heckler & Kochs?”
Stefan glances around us, then says, “Call me tomorrow.” He rises to his feet. “The walls have ears.”
We shake hands as I nod, and then I watch as he walks away while continuing to slowly sip on my drink.
Minutes later, Igor makes his way over to my table, and grinning, he says, “Good to see you could make it. I trust you’ve been entertained by the flesh on stage?”