The Volkov brothers are stupid enough to think they’ll take me out and step into my shoes. They haven’t been in town long enough to learn my word is what governs the underbelly of New York City. My crew and I keep these streets clean, safe, and protected from trash like them. I rule with fear, strength and I’m not afraid to let rivers of blood coat my territory to maintain my reign. It’s the only way to keep people like my father from emerging. I learned having full control is the only way at the knee of that brutal piece-of-shit. There is no end to the hatred thriving in my blood for him. He sparked a fire in my veins the day he killed my mother with his bare hands. And now he lives with the fear I’ll come after him someday.
The bastard is not wrong.
Which naturally leads to another truth. The one universal law that makes humans seem like the scum of the universe—in all its filthy, faceted, fucked-up forms, sex sells. And those who have the money to throw around will pay any price to get it. Or, control over those who want it.
It makes criminals out of the nice guy next door, and broken souls out of those unfortunate enough to find themselves in places like this.
Auction windows. But don’t let the name fool you. Nothing that goes on here happens in the light of day. Thewindowsare underground pop-up locations so far off the grid not even the most crooked of cops are let in on this secret. Elaborate mansion basements the size of football fields, underground cave systems that have been converted into luxurious dens of sin, or a remote deluxe cabin in the woods. All on highly guarded, private property and away from curious eyes. Anywhere the Volkov brothers can host a gala that doubles as an auction. Princes, foreign politicians, men—and women—in power with too much money and a lack of morals all fill these walls wearing smiles and tuxedos more costly than your monthly car payment.
My crew is thorough in their intel gathering.
And by no stretch of the imagination are the women here by choice. Most of them walking from table to table have been here a while and are referred to as house samples. Women and men barely old enough to vote are forced into this life of degradation as samples of the Volkovs’ product. Anyone holding membership to The Society can demand anything of these poor souls and they either perform on command or be killed. Every last one of them is kidnapped off the streets, ripped from their lives, stripped of their dignity with daily beatings until they give their full submission. Some don’t make it.
It’s hard to believe, but these have it better than the ones drugged and held in cages just out of sight behind large curtains in the next room. Those are to be sold tonight to the highest bidder. And I have deep pockets. It’s what pisses these Society fuckers off. I ride up here on my sled, look like I should be behind bars Upstate, and yet have more sitting in my bank account than all of them put together.
I let a wolfish grin slip.
And you thought I was a bastard. You’re not wrong, because I plan on buying one of those women and making her my wife.
And the worst part is there’s not a damn thing anyone will do about it. Yet.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Sir.” I look up to find a raven-haired woman in her mid-twenties bare of all clothing standing beside me, the one in emeralds nowhere to be seen. I gesture with a flick of my fingers for her to speak. “Your booth is ready.”
Two
Ares
While the other server asked to touch me, this bare-breasted woman places a bold hand on my arm and leans in close. Her exposed nipples brush against my sleeve as she whispers in my ear. A blind man can see the Volkovs spent extra time training the woman in the art of seduction. Glitter dusts along her body and she has strategically placed jewels dangling over her nipples and folds that catch the light, drawing the eye to her many assets.
“Your broker for the evening is waiting for you by the door, Mr. Ares. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll make the introduction. Once the auction draws to a close, the Volkov brothers would like to offer you an invitation to join them in their private rooms.”
My little scene with her friend in emeralds paid off. I hold back a smirk and keep my face draped with indifference.
The lilt of her accent pins her origins somewhere south of Mexico. Columbia, possibly Ecuador. Doesn’t fucking matter. She ticks a lot of boxes for anyone with a dick and a taste for the exotic. Beautiful, lithe, willing from the spark of fire in her eye and lingering touches, but again, not who I’m looking for. I guess some adapt to this lifestyle, becoming as twisted as their captors.
Perfect made-up eyes turn to mine. “If you so desire,Señor.I can also arrange for a private room for us this evening. The Volkov brothers wish for you to have a pleasurable time while under their roof. Never mindla chica. She doesn’t know how to pleasure a man like you. Just ask for Salvaje after the auction. Maybe I can join you and your new bride if you find someone who meets your approval, that is.”
I don’t give a shit about some made-up name or her offer. Some people suck at reading body language and she’s one of them. She mistakes my irritation for interest or maybe confusion and presses on. “The girl from before. Avery. She’s new. But I’ve been here a while and know how to bring you to multiple orgasms in a night.”
She pushes the lapels of my jackets aside and draws an invisible line down the center of my chest with a pretty pink-tipped nail and then wraps her fingers around my dick through my slacks.
I grind my teeth until my jaw aches. I wonder if she hears the enamel start to crack because she finally gets the hint and shuts her mouth.
I peel her hand from my cock and push it away. “I won’t be needing your services tonight, Salvaje. And you can tell your bosses another time perhaps. I’m here for one reason only and it’s not to get my dick wet in a pussy that has entertained a thousand men. As beautiful as you are,” I add, offhandedly.
The woman blanches a split second before her face turns redder than her dyed hair. I take it that not a lot of people tell the Volkovs no, or her for that matter. Like I said before, my dick doesn’t touch a woman who doesn’t crave me as much as I do her. A sex slave isn’t given a choice and that is a hard pass for me. I have plenty of pussy willing to take my cock back at the club if I want.
I cast a glance over my shoulder and give a stiff nod knowing the Volkovs are still watching. I stand, move past the woman and meet my handler. “My booth,” I instruct him and he swiftly turns on a heel.
“This way, sir.”
I follow through several clusters of guests all whispering and some trying to catch my eye. I keep walking.
Low-hung chandeliers cast soft lighting over a room full of ample-sized booths lining the edge of a large circular stage. There are a couple of plush chairs with a table in the middle holding a phone that links directly to the auctioneer I presume. On either side of the chairs are large glass dividers offering the bidders a level of privacy.
My handler shows me to one at the end, draws the curtain back and I step inside. I have a full view of the stage from here, but I’m unable to see inside the other booths opposite of me. They are not the smartest pair, but I have to hand it to the fuckers. The Volkov twins seem to have all their bases covered.