Page 66 of The Games We Play

Not a house—this is a mansion.

“Don’t speak,” Dad reminds me. Apparently, the proper etiquette for tonight is if a man wants totest me out, he’ll ask Dad for permission, then take me and do what he will. Dad assured me that sex is off the table. The buyers know that. I’ll mostly be dancing while they get their hands full to decide if they want to purchase the real estate, then fuck me.

I puked the moment Dad left me with that information and hadn’t been able to eat since.

Roxy and Ryan. I have to do this for them.

Who knew the gift he bought me would be the leverage he would use against me?

“Appear, pleasant,” he encourages as we approach the large, intricately designed wooden doors.

Two guards walk in front of us, while four encompass beside and behind us.

What does he need all this protection from? X? Is there a bigger picture I’m not seeing? I take in my surroundings without moving my head, relying on my periphery and what Dad is leading us toward.

I’m not the only woman with a leash and collar. Almost every man dressed in a suit here has someone by his side. Beautiful and flattering dresses cling to their bodies, and men walk around them like they’re eying a piece of artwork.

And everyone is wearing a mask.

They’re all different, but I couldn’t pick out a single person in a lineup if I tried. Probably because what they’re doing is illegal as fuck.

Dad leads me past groups standing in various locations. Their heads swivel as they follow his every step.

Do they know who he is behind his mask?

There’s a stage set up at the far end of the room, and Dad walks right up to the front and center like he owns the place. All eyes land on us, and I freeze—or try to. Dad gives a solid yank on the chain, and I fall into him.

He positions me before him, and the room erupts in applause. The crowd quiets, and I scan each mask, wondering if X is among them. Is he a monster like these people?

“Friends,” Dad says. “I’m so glad you could attend this evening. When my father, may he rest in peace,” He makes a motion of some kind across his chest, and the crowd mirrors him. “Started this tradition to bring us together once a year. I knew it was something I had to continue.”

A waiter brings a tray with a single flute of champagne and offers it to Dad. He takes it and raises it in the air for a toast.

“To a new year, new beginnings, and old friends.”

There is a large golden clock on the wall across from us, and the small hand ticks by with the seconds. My heart thumps twice that fast, and my palms sweat.

My grandfather started this? He proposed bringing women in here on leashes to be paraded around?

Dad leans in as the crowd continues to cheer. “It’s show time.” The waiter takes the empty glass, and I’m led back down the stairs where the guards take their post.

Music plays, soft and seductive from a live instrumental band I hadn’t noticed before. All around, men approach the ones holding leashes. Some are led to the dance floor, and others are taken to dark corners of the room where the man sits while the woman puts on a show.

Acid churns my stomach, and I fight the urge to puke again.

“Darius,” a man greets Dad as he approaches. He has longer hair than Dad’s guards, and his mask only covers one eye, as if he doesn’t care if he’s concealed or not.

Dad sips on his fresh glass of champagne, and I wish I had several glasses to calm my nerves.

“Happy New Year,” the man says. Dad hasn’t taken the time to address him. His eyes scan the crowd and flick to the clock like he’s counting down the minutes to when this horrible experience is over.

“Same to you.”

The man extends his hand, and Dad’s guards circle in.

“Apologies,” the man says. “I merely meant to see what fine piece you brought with you this evening. We’re all intrigued. After all, this is the first time you’ve brought a specimen.”

Dad waves his hand, and his guards take a step back. “She is rather enticing, isn’t she? She’s extremely special. One of a kind. My blood runs through her veins.”

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