Page 5 of Redemption

“Mr. Santos.”

“Dimitri, Romina. Just Dimitri.”

The bartender places my Malbec down between us on the bar. I take the glass, swirling it a few times before lifting it to my nose while maintain eye contact with the notorious black-hearted playboy only second to Roque. His white teeth gleam in a shark’s smile as the stem of the wine glass touches my lips. I close my eyes letting the rich red wine coat my tongue. “Delicious.”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it. What brings you to my territory, little fire?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Just enjoying the Florida sun.”

The tip of his index finger travels along my collarbone, rounding my shoulder. “Ah I doubt that. Your skin is a smooth and pale as fresh snow.” Goosebumps break out everywhere his finger touched. Damn it. He grins wickedly. Strobe lights start pulsating from the ceiling, the music changes as dancers in cages descend form metal cables. They hang suspended in the air and start performing. Dimitri’s hand finds my elbow, he leans down whispering against my hair, “Upstairs. The VIP Lounge. It’s much quieter.”

I dip my head, letting him lead me down a dark hall. He pushes the corner of a panel and it slides away, revealing a private elevator. Something in my gut clenches as it opens, and he insists I go first. But I have no choice. I entered his den on my own free will and now I’m at his mercy until I walk out. If he lets me walk out.

He says nothing, just studies me as the lift rises. I arch my brow, daring him which is stupid as fuck. You don’t dare a devil, but I never could resist. Light reflects from the mirrored ceiling of the elevator off the cufflinks fastened to his impeccable sport coat. “Please,” he gestures as the doors open into blackness. I can’t see anything. It’s a sea of dark. You’d think we went down instead of up, but I felt the movement as we rose. It’s quiet besides dark. He senses my hesitation, gently placing a hand on the small of my bare back. Step by step in my delicate heels, I step into the abyss.

“Soundproof. Lightproof. Welcome to the real Den of Eden,” he whispers, just as he disappears from my side into inky blackness.

I hold myself steady, feeling a hundred predatory eyes on me. I’m fresh meat. The dove under the eyes of circling hawks. I can’t see them only feel the hunger in their gaze. In their desires pulsating in waves across the darkness, landing on me. Daring me to break my stride. Daring me to try to flee. I hold my ground. Only the sound of stiletto heels clicking across marble echoes in my ears. The thing about predators is the fear of their prey feeds their hunger more. Makes it burn. I don’t cry out. Or let my breath come out in hurried puffs. I use my years of training to regulate my both my breathing and my heartbeat. Slow and steady. Dimitri pulled this shit just because he can. Too prove a point. I came uninvited onto his turf. This is a test I must pass or face the consequences of such bold an action.

Finally, across the fifty feet of nothing, light starts appearing from the middle of the floor. I cross to it, sucking in my breath. The floor is transparent glass, beneath me is the main floor of the club and my view is of a dancer’s suspended cage. She bends over, showing more of what’s between her legs that I’d ever want to see.

I look up, into the eyes of a smirking man staring straight back at me from his perch on a high-backed chair. The kind you’d find in a throne room in a medieval castle. He’s holding a leather leash the other end is clipped to a collar wrapped around a woman’s throat. “How utterly predictable,” I mock. Lifting my nose, stepping to the left of the “window” in the floor.

I don’t take one more sip of the wine in my hand. Instead, I hold it close. I’ll break the stem, using the jagged shard as a weapon if it comes down to it. Dim lights turn on one by one. A shadow of a bar appears. I walk to it, using the solid wood as cover for my back while letting my eyes scan left to right for threats. What I see has me stunned. I did feel eyes all over me. Against the opposite wall is five rows of stadium style seating. Men in suits wearing night vision goggle tracked my every move off the lift. What in the living hell is this place? From the opposite end of this large room, the elevator opens, and another woman steps out. But unlike me, she can’t stop her shaking knees or shallow breaths. The men practically salivate as the doors shut behind her, ripping the light away.

“Sixty-thousand,” someone whispers in the dark.

“Seventy-five,” another growls.

Fuck this. This is the exact shit I can’t stand. This is the exact type of bullshit that makes me see the haze of red rage. “Two-hundred thousand.” My voice isn’t a whisper. Heads whip my way. I raise my wine, toasting those rich sadistic fuckers. Before I’m done, I’ll burn this place to the ground. My gaze taunts them all as they debate countering my offer for the girl when my heart stops. Shuts down. I swear, I see a smirk that follows me from dreams to nightmares. The soft wave of ebony hair covers one side of his forehead. His shoulders are twice as broad as the others. It couldn’t be Roque. Could it? I won’t know unless the man takes off those damn night vision goggles. I’m tempted to end the guessing and just walk over their and find out for certain when Dimitri emerges from the shadows behind the seating, bends down to say something to the man and they both exit.

Now at least I know where the escape hatch is. Feigning indifference, I carefully leave the bar and skirt the edge of the darkness to the other side of the room. “Not so fast.” A hand encircles my wrist. “You owe Eden. For the girl. Mr. Dimitri has not given you permission to leave.”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off but the bouncer, presses his ear peace further against his head. I’m already forgotten about as he races off to put out some unseen fire.

Once again, I go for the door but this time I’m blocked by the man with his “pet.”

She’s gorgeous with a strong, athletic body. Blonde hair you can’t find from a bottle and her nose is slightly crooked. She’s imperfectly beautiful which makes her stunning. “Why?” I ask her. “Why would you let him do that to you?”

He growls low in his throat. A warning for me to shut the fuck up. But she smiles, stroking his forearm gently. The pet soothes the beast. His eyes shutter, revealing in her touch. I shake my head. The woman might be the one collared, but she has all the control. Why did I never see this before? Is that the key to taming Roque? Let him “collar” me. Let him capture me and think I’m the one caged when maybe just maybe, the perceived captured one is the one who’s actually free?

My mind swirls with this new knowledge as I close the distance between me and the concealed door. “Where are you going? I wanted the girl. Pay up or play.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I spit out as the bulky man risers from his seat, yanking my arm. I use my heel as a weapon, stomping down hard on his toes.

“Little bitch!” He growls, grabbing me like a ragdoll and pinning me to the wall. “No woman comes up here alone without knowing the game. You entered the lift. You aren’t a player sweetheart—you are the game.”

“I came with Dimitri. I’m under his protection. You saw.” I bluff, hoping I’m right.

“Dimitri? Never saw him. All I saw was you walk off alone. Where’s your marker? If you can’t produce enough for 200k. You’ll have to compensate me some other way.”

“She’s not collared,” another dark figure emerges to my left.

“She belongs to no one, then. We can all take a turn.”

One by one, more men dressed in dark suits circle me. All still wearing night vision. I empty my wineglass, breaking the stem with my own hands. “Bring it you, deviant fucks,” I snarl, kicking off my heels. On bare feet, I crouch in a fighter’s stance, circling, raising the shard high, ready to cut throats in a heartbeat. I’ll never cower to a man again. Never feel the fear of being helpless. I’ll fight till the end if need be.

3

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