Page 97 of His to Possess
“Howard Worthington,” I growl. “He’s in that room right now with Roth and your partner, Leone. You’re going to let her fucking stepfather bid on her?”
He looks completely flustered now, his already ruddy face reddening even more as sweat pops out on his forehead. “I didn’t know…he didn’t say—”
“Let me into that fucking room,” I demand. “We can go and talk to him together.”
“But he…Mr. Worthington that is…he’s in the middle of negotiations with Victor…and I think…. I just don’t know if—”
I can’t take his stammering for a second longer. I step forward and grab him by the coat lapels, pushing him into the wall. “I don’t give a shit what negotiations you have with him. I want you to bring me to Lilah. Right now.”
I’d forgotten about the security guard but a moment later I find myself yanked backwards from the stout little man. “You want me to throw him out, Mr. Rossi?” he asks, tightening his hold on my collar.
“What the hell is going on?” Another voice bellows and I turn my head to see the elder Rossi brother striding toward us. “Is that Philip Matthews? Jesus, Zeke, let him go. You can’t just go manhandling the richest man in the fucking city.”
The guard clearly doesn’t want to listen, but Carl Rossi echoes his brother’s sentiment. “Let him go. There’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”
The guard finally complies and I glare at him over my shoulder as I straighten my collar. “Consider that job offer revoked,” I mutter.
“Zeke, leave us for a moment,” Rossi says. “It’s clear that we need to talk.”
I wait until the guard reluctantly stalks off before turning to the two men. “I need you to tell me what in the hell is going on. Why was the auction moved up? Why haven’t I seen any other men coming through this hallway?” Hell, the place had been packed last week. The sick feeling in my belly only grows.
“Miss Cartwright came to see us this morning,” Rossi says, and I curse myself for not thinking to have this place watched before. Why hadn’t I considered she might come here before the auction?
“She said her arrangement with you had fallen through,” he continues. “She asked if we could arrange the auction for tonight.”
My jaw ticks. “And you were fine with that? How the hell could you pull together an auction that quickly?”
He shrugs. “We’re currently in negotiations with an investor.” He looks uncomfortable. “We’ve had a few financial difficulties and the influx of cash—”
“I offered you more than a million fucking dollars six days ago!” I bellow.
The disquiet in his expression grows. “We needed quite a bit more than that.”
I close my eyes. “What does the investor have to do with anything?”
Rossi won’t meet my eye. “She was one of the conditions.”
I feel like the floor is dropping out under my feet. “What the fuck does that mean?” I grind out, though I’m pretty sure I already know.
He looks completely uncomfortable now. Guilty, even. “Our investor—Howard Worthington—heard about the auction from a friend.” I would bet my entire hedge fund that “friend” was Roth. Or the fucker who upset Lilah so much at Wyld the other night, her stepfather’s business partner. If he’s a member at the club, it’s entirely possible he heard gossip about Lilah and how she came to be with me.
“Worthington was intrigued. He said he would match the highest price from last week if we agreed not to publicize the auction. And he would agree to our terms for his investment in the club.”
I clench my fists and it takes everything I have to keep from unleashing them on these assholes. “So instead of an auction, you agreed to sell that girl to your investor.”
His expression turns defiant, but his skin has paled. “What’s the difference?” he asks. “She still gets her money. We get our cut and a satisfied investor. And he gets what he wants, too.”
“Does she know about this?” I ask. “Did you tell her she was guaranteed to one man?”
“I don’t see why she would care,” the younger Rossi cuts in, trying to sound reasonable. “She’s going to spread her legs for someone, right? This way just guarantees she’ll get as much as she would have last week.”
I want to throw up. And punch someone. Preferably both of them. And then I’ll kill the three fuckers on the other side of this door.
I’m about ready to do just that when the sound of heels clacking on the tile floor hits me. I smell the faintest hint of Chanel on the air. Jane.
“Gentlemen,” she says. “So nice to see you.” Her voice might sound cheery to them, but I can hear the edge underneath it. She would like nothing more than to take her favorite bullwhip to these two assholes.
She leans into me. “I just saw her,” she murmurs. “She was with an employee. He brought her through a door. Paid a waitress a hundred to find out it’s the same place they take girls before the auction.”
