Page 52 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
I climb out of the car, adjusting the Kevlar I’m wearing beneath my shirt. A lightweight, invisible layer that might savemy life. Angel has one too. A smaller version, tighter, shaped around her breasts and hidden beneath her dress. It’s the reason she opted for a long-sleeved one.
Walking around to her side, I pull her against me and hold her for a second. “Don’t forget the safe word,” I whisper in her ear.
“I won’t.Paradise.”
“And if you say that, I’m coming to get you. Even if it means I need to rain hellfire down on the place.”
“I’m not scared, Diomid. I saw what you did the last time we were here. I know what you’re capable of, and I know you won’t let anything happen to me.”
Her eyes, bright and trusting, pierce into me. Beautiful green and calmer than they should be.
Her trust in me should be reassuring. But it terrifies me. What if I fail? What if…
No. Stop this. You are perfectly capable.
“Let’s go,” I say, stepping back, ready to get this over with.
***
Getting in is easy.
These assholes are so arrogant, they don’t expect a damn thing, and while I would have ramped up my security after last time, they haven’t done anything other than add a few extra men around the perimeter.
The music is heavy inside the passageway outside the event venue. To the left, the private areas. Offices, store rooms. To the right, the auction party. Stale cigar smoke drifts in from the right, and when the door swings open each time a waitercarries something through, a flash of ominous red light spills into the hallway.
I press close to the wall, watching her walk toward the red glow.
Her dress is only just long enough to cover her ass, and her walk is accentuated with an extra sway of her hips. She’s already in character. Her confidence is astounding.
My jaw is clenched so tightly it aches across my face.
Alright, Diomid. Move. She’s in. You can’t follow her. Do your side of this thing, and let’s get out of here.
It’s hard to walk away from the door she just disappeared through, but I do it, keeping my head down, I move into the offices.
“Report in,” I whisper.
“The place is packed. But no girls. The stage is packed with art pieces and weapons.”
Her voice is calm and clear. “Maybe this isn’t a human auction?” I say quietly, pushing an office door open and stepping inside. I lean over the desk and press one of the bugs against the underside near the corner. Then another behind a large file cabinet.
“It doesn’t appear to be,” she replies.
I can picture her moving through the crowd, smiling at old men, subtly leaving bugs here and there. Beneath the bar counter, around the stage, on the frame of an art piece on the wall.
“How long do you need?” I ask.
“Ten minutes. Max.”
“Alright. Same. I’ve done the main offices, I just want to get into the store room if I can.”
“Oh,” she giggles, overly sweet. “It looks like your drink is nearly done.” Another giggle that makes my stomach churn. She must be talking to one of those pervs. “What’s your poison?” She asks.
“I like them young and tight like you,” a gruff voice. It stabs into my ear, making me shudder. For a second, I pause, knowing he has his hands on her, and she has to go with it in order to play her role.
I want to vomit. But more than that. I want to abandon what I’m doing and go fetch her.
“Now, now, you can’t keep me all to yourself. I have other customers who also want drinks,” she says sweetly.
