Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I steal a quick glance at Eva, who stands stiffly by my side, her body tense as her eyes flicker with barely concealed anxiety. What the hell is Lazarus talking about? The cryptic language, the talk of duties—it’s all a carefully orchestrated game, but I don’t know the rules, and neither does Eva. My pulse quickens as I struggle to decipher his message.
“I know many of you are excited for what’s to come,” Lazarus continues, his voice thick with self-satisfaction, “and trust me, it’s good. All the bids are in, and we’ll be profiting soon.”
Profiting? Bids? My stomach twists as a ripple of cheers erupts through the room, the men raising their glasses in celebration. I force myself to join in, clapping half-heartedly, my palms slick with cold sweat. A grin is plastered across my face, but inside I’m spiraling.
Bids? On the women?
I look around the room, seeing nothing but hungry eyes and men lost in their own greed. The walls seem to close in around me, and my mind races, piecing together the unspoken truth behind Lazarus’ words. These men aren’t just here for business deals. This is something far darker. The word bids sticks in my brain like a thorn. Human trafficking? Exploitation?
Eva’s hand tightens on my arm again, a silent plea for reassurance, but I can see the growing fear in her eyes. She knows too. She’s realizing what’s happening here, what these people are capable of. I’m supposed to protect her, to keep her safe, and yet here we are, caught in the middle of something I can barely comprehend. My heart pounds in my chest, my rage bubbling beneath the surface.
Lazarus grins, enjoying the cheers, reveling in the anticipation of whatever hell is about to unfold. I glance around the room again, sizing up the other men, wondering how far this all goes. The stakes are higher than I could have imagined, and I’m in over my head.
“Dance for us, ladies,” Lazarus commands, his voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. The women—the Greedy Girls—move to the center of the room, their bodies already swaying in time to the sultry rhythm of the music. There’s a sort of twisted excitement in the air, and all eyes are on them, the men around the room lounging in plush leather chairs, sipping on expensive liquor as if this is just another night of entertainment.
There are about five of them, all wearing the signature skimpy outfits that leave little to the imagination. I watch as the girls slowly begin to move, their hips undulating in time with the slow, seductive beat. The men around the room lean forward, their gazes hungry and lecherous. It makes my skin crawl.
I find a spot on a white-leather couch, casually sinking into it, pretending to enjoy the show like everyone else. But my mind isn’t on the Greedy Girls. It’s on Eva. I feel her next to me, hesitating as she takes small steps forward, unsure of what’s expected of her. My blood boils at the thought of anyone else laying their eyes on her the way these men are watching the other women.
As the music pulses through the speakers, Eva starts to sway, her hips moving awkwardly at first, unsure of herself. But I’m not about to let her become part of the spectacle. I grip her hip firmly, pulling her back to me, forcing her body into my lap. The heat of her skin against my palm sends a possessive surge through me. She’s not theirs to watch. She’s mine.
“You dance for me,” I murmur, my lips grazing her ear. My voice is low, meant only for her. There’s a tremble in her as she tries to keep up appearances, moving slightly to the rhythm, but I feel the tension in her body. She doesn’t want to be here. Neither do I.
“You can’t hog all the girls,” Enzo’s voice cuts through from across the room, his laughter loud and grating, like sandpaper against raw skin. I can feel his eyes on Eva, the way they linger, and it takes everything in me not to storm across the room and rip his throat out.
I force a smile, keeping my face casual even as the fury simmers just below the surface. “This one’s mine,” I growl, my voice sharp, possessive. The words hang in the air, a clear warning to everyone in the room. Don’t even think about it.
Enzo’s grin falters for a split second before he recovers, shrugging like it’s all a joke. “Lucky you,” he says with a smirk, his gaze lingering on Eva for a moment longer than necessary.
My grip on her tightens, and I feel her lean into me, her body still moving slightly, pretending for the sake of appearances. But she’s not dancing for them. She’s dancing for me. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone else think otherwise.