It might be an hour or mere minutes later that my door opens and the Concierge appears. Their expression is just as professionally blank as ever. “It’s time.”

I don’t see another soul as they lead me down the hallway and into another new part of the building. I half expected them to have converted the viewing room into the stage, but I should have known better. It’s peak rich people to have an entire fucking theater in their basement. I suppose I can’t throw stones considering what family I was born into, but it’s honestly ridiculous.

And maybe I’m just trying to distract myself from the reality that I’m about to be auctioned off and that I have absolutely no control over who wins the bid. I either trust Wolf or I don’t. Maybe it’s the height of foolishness that I do, but I cling to the memory of the stranger from the viewing.

The Wolf has his eye on her. You know better than to get between that one and his prey.

If that person knew it, then maybe others do too. Maybe there won’t even be a bidding war. Maybe I’m building this up in my head and it will be downright disappointing.

The Concierge stops just in front of a large doorway that stretches into darkness. “The stage is through here. Walk to the other doorway and wait to be summoned.”

A bolt of fear makes me forget my attempt at bravery. “You’re leaving?”

“I have other auction items to retrieve. Go.” They turn and walk away.

There’s nothing to do but walk through the doorway and into the shadows. There’s a piece of clothing carefully draped over a chair nearby, and I can’t help shifting to it. My eyes go wide when I recognize the Bryson inauguration dress. Why’s it just sitting here? Shouldn’t it be on stage right now, securing bidders? Maybe the original owner changed their mind.

I could probably back out and beg for them to release me from the contract. But my pride won’t let me. Guilt rises, and I shift from foot to foot. My pride. What a joke. I should be focused on doing this for Luke, to keep him safe, but all I’ve had my mind on is Wolf.

You really are a selfish bitch, aren’t you?

Yeah. I really am.

I lift my chin, take a deep breath, and charge through the doorway. Three steps in, I realize the space isn’t as dark as it looked from the outside. There’s a faint light coming around a corner, and a hush of whispers reaches me as I get closer.

“Sold! For a dollar to the man of the hour. Me.” A crooning voice makes my skin go tight. It’s as if sex was bottled into sound. He laughs, low and sinful. “You had a choice.”

I stop just inside a second doorway and look out into a large room. It’s hard to see because of the lighting—a theme in this place. I catch sight of a lean white woman with long dark hair walking down the steps on the other side of the stage, her head bowed and her fists clenched. She’s not wearing anything but her skin.

Suddenly I feel downright overdressed.

Wait, did she just sell herself for a dollar?

I’m so distracted by the sight of her bare ass and the low price tag that I completely missed the other person on the stage. He’s not naked, but there’s something about him that suggests sex in a much more over-the-top way than the naked woman. He’s a white man dressed in low-slung leather pants and little else, his long white-blond hair pulled into a bun with parts braided, a ring glinting on his sensual lower lip.

He turns and finds me unerringly. “Don’t be shy, love. Come show the people what they came to purchase.” He’s already turning again without waiting to see whether I’ll obey. “Our next auction item is something quite special. Not a virgin, so don’t get your hopes up there. I have it on . . . good . . . very good . . . authority that she gets down and dirty and loves being bad.”

I step onto the stage, and my lungs shrivel in my chest. I’m not a coward, but I’m achingly aware of the way my pussy and breasts are on display, the way everyone present can see me and imagine and . . . I shiver, and I’m not entirely certain if it’s with fear or desire.

“That’s right, we have Carver City’s very own Ruby Belmonte, the heir to the Belmonte territory.” The man smiles, flashing perfect teeth, and motions me closer. “She’s been a good little mafia princess for a very long time, so much so that I myself wondered why she’d darken our doors.” He casts a wicked smile to the audience, which is bathed in shadows. “And yet here she is, prime for the plucking.”

I don’t quite make the decision to set my hand in his. It simply happens by virtue of his magnetism. If I weren’t dead set on a certain man in a mask, I might be dropping my nonexistent panties just from standing next to this guy.

He gives me a twirl that ends with my back to his chest . . . though I notice that he very carefully keeps his hips away from my ass, not taking the opportunity to grind on me.

He releases my hand to catch my chin and bare my throat while bending me back against him and putting my body on display. “Now, look at this delicious little thing, wandered into our midst. She may think she’s been bad, but we know the truth. She’s barely dipped her toes in sin, and it’s someone’s lucky day because they get to show her exactly how depraved we can be.”

The lights haven’t gotten brighter, but I’m half-convinced they’re spotlighting my nipples, due to the heat gathering there and at my clit.

Who knew that being on display was one of my kinks? Not me.

“How lovely she blushes.” He laughs, low and a little mean. “I bet her ass will redden prettily under the right hand. Let’s start the bidding at a quarter of a million dollars.”

Someone with a light musical voice calls out, “Make it three hundred.”

“Darling, look how eager you have them. No minimum bid for this sweet little pussy.” He lifts his voice a little. “But we can do better than that. Let’s hear three fifty.” It’s practically a command.

I had no idea bidding would start so high. Sure, my family may have a fortune stashed in the vault, but it’s not like normal people have access to hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Does Wolf? Who could he possibly be to have access to the kind of money these people are throwing around?

While I’m ruminating, the bids climb quickly. Four hundred. Five hundred. Holy shit.

The auctioneer gives me a slow smile. “You’ve got them by the throat, love.” He’s not exactly trying to be quiet, but he’s not pronouncing these words to everyone. “I bet we can get them to a million if you turn around and bend over, just a bit. Give them a good look at what they’re getting.” He lowers his face a little, until it’s almost kissably close. “We both know you’re getting off on this. Let them see how much.”

He’s right.

My pussy is practically dripping. The voices have been calling out too fast, speaking too quickly, for me to be sure one of them is Wolf. I turn around, slowly and with a little extra swivel in my hips. As if on cue, slow, sensual music starts from somewhere.

The auctioneer whistles. “Looks like we’re in luck. We get a little preview. Can I hear five fifty?”

I bend in time with the music, and I swear I actually hear the collective inhale as the icy, air-conditioned air strokes my pussy.

“One million.” The voice is low with a hint of rasp, a hint of accent, and it strikes me right in my core. I know that voice. I’ve spent days taunting its owner, have spent hours fantasizing about just what filthy things he’ll say to me when it’s finally just us without all the games.

Wolf. My spine snaps straight, and I turn around. “Sold,” I blurt.

The auctioneer laughs. “Someone’s eager, but the bidding isn’t over until it’s over. Can I get a million five?”

“Another person makes a bid and I’m putting a bullet in their brain, Reaper.”

The auctioneer—Reaper—drops his seduction act and goes cold. “Don’t threaten my guests, Wolf. You want her? Bid the highest. Otherwise it’s not my other guests who will be getting a bullet to the brain. This is neutral territory, and everyone here is enjoying my hospitality . . . as long as they obey the rules. So obey them.”