“You might want to know there is a private auction going on in the basement and your girl is one of the young women going to the highest bidder. And get this, the creepy dude with the tattoos over there is rumored to be enamored with her.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I need to get down there now and speak to her father.”
“First, we need to steal a special key card to get in.”
Damn.
“Which I already obtained.” He smiles and slides it into my coat pocket, all while grabbing another treat off a nearby tray.
I grab another champagne and toss it back like a shot.
“What? Where is it?” Mr. Creepy Tattoo Man cries out in a panic, checking his pockets and the floor around him. Clearly, he’s lost something.
“Hmm, his key card I presume.” I send a knowing look to Savio.
“I had to even the playing field,” he says, washing his food down with a swig of champagne, “and he had the jump on you. You can’t say I’m not a good wingman. You can thank me in my holiday bonus.”
I chuckle. Savio is not one to mince words, but I know he means no disrespect. Unless he is disloyal, there is not much I’d punish him for, that’s how tight we are. At this level, men like him are hard to find.
“Go get your girl. I’ll run interference here. Follow the hallway that is blocked off with the red theater rope.
“Wish me luck.”
“You were born lucky,” Savio says with a smirk.
8
Valentina
“What do you mean, the devil?” I’m alarmed, as any woman would be. I liked the handsome stranger who didn’t get upset that I spilled champagne on his expensive tux.
“I mean he’s dangerous. I’ve seen that conceited look before. It screams arrogance. He’s not for you, or me. Let someone else have him. He can eat their soul instead.”
“He doesn’t look menacing to me.” She doesn’t know he’s my type, with his chiseled jaw, dark olive skin, and the way he challenges anyone to not notice him. “I might like the aura of mystery about him.”
He’s definitely the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Sure, his level of confidence could stand to be reigned in a bit, as no man should be confident to the point of being smug.
So why is it I want to learn more about him? And why is it slick between my legs? With no underwear on, the wetness has only one place to go as it oozes down my inner thighs.
“Exactly, that mystery is meant to be locked in a box, along with his hatchet.”
“You’re joking. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I grab another tasty morsel off a passing tray. I’m flustered as hell and feel my face getting hot as the temperature in the room just went nuclear.
“I just know things, that’s all,” I say.
Suddenly, the man with the tattoos is shouting and carrying on as if his pants are on fire. I wonder what his problem is.
That thought is interrupted by jailer number one, previously known as Mama, showing up. Sadly, at some point today, she stopped being a mother and became more of a guard herself. Her unusual, neurotic behavior, combined with the three of them arguing and whispering on the jet, has me wondering if something is afoot.
They keep me in the dark on everything, and I’m beginning to resent it, especially when they tell me how to live my life now and in the future.
“Stop eating those,” Mama scolds me. “People will think you’re hungry.”
“I am. Besides, this champagne will make me woozy on an empty stomach.”