Page 11 of Auctioned Innocence (Bonds of Betrayal #3)

I catch the threat in her tone, see Sofia tense on the platform.

Whatever “reminders” Madame Rouge provides, they’re not gentle.

They’re not something Sofia should endure.

“No.” My voice is hard. “If piece commands such price, best to keep…pristine. For serious buyers.”

I meet Rouge’s gaze steadily.

Let her see Dmitri’s cold interest, his obvious wealth, his implied promises of a record-breaking bid.

She’s a businesswoman first.

Profit will win over punishment.

Finally, she nods. “Remove Mr. Reed from the premises. Mr. Volkov is correct—we save such…examinations for after purchase.”

Sofia is led away, her eyes carefully avoiding mine.

But I saw her minute flinch at those last words.

At the implication of what awaits her if I fail.

My hands itch to tear the building apart stone by stone, to burn it all down with everyone inside.

Instead, I pull out my phone and type rapidly to Marco: Need full files on D’Angelo, Kovac, Martinez families. Connection to Anthony Calabrese. Priority. Also, Reed compromised. Potential threat.

I watch Reed being escorted out, memorizing his gait, his mannerisms, the way he favors his left leg slightly.

When this is over, Julian Reed will learn exactly what happens to men who touch what’s mine.

The thought brings me up short. What’s mine.

When did I start thinking of Sofia that way?

When did my duty to protect Marco’s sister evolve into this fierce, possessive thing that clouds my judgment?

A guard appears at my elbow, interrupting my dangerous train of thought. “Mr. Volkov? Madame Rouge requests your presence. To discuss private viewing arrangements.”

I smile Dmitri’s shark smile. “Of course.”

I follow the guard through opulent hallways, noting security camera placements, guard rotations, and potential escape routes.

The east wing has fewer guards than the west.

The service corridors would provide faster egress than the main halls.

The ventilation system might be large enough for someone Sofia’s size, if necessary.

We arrive at a study that screams old money—leather-bound books, a massive mahogany desk, and oil paintings of stern-faced men.

Madame Rouge sits behind the desk, red nails tapping a rhythm on the polished surface.

“Mr. Volkov,” she greets me. “Please, sit.”

I take the offered chair, crossing one leg over the other in the casual posture of a man with nothing to fear. “That was…unfortunate scene.”

“Indeed.” Her smile is tight. “Mr. Reed’s enthusiasm exceeded his manners. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” I let the word hang between us, pregnant with implication.

She studies me for a long moment. “You seem particularly interested in our Italian offering.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Quality stands out.”

“Yes, it does.” She opens a leather portfolio, removing several glossy photographs. “For our most serious buyers, we offer private viewing opportunities. More…intimate settings to better assess potential acquisitions.”

She slides a photograph across the desk.

Sofia in the blue dress from earlier, standing in what appears to be a lavishly appointed sitting room.

The image is clinical, like a real estate listing.

Here is the property.

Consider its features.

“One hour,” Madame Rouge continues. “Limited physical contact only. We maintain the value of our merchandise until transfer of ownership.”

My stomach turns at the casual dehumanization, but I keep my expression interested, considering. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning. Before the final preparations for the auction.” She slides a key card across the desk. “The blue suite, nine o’clock. You’ll find the environment more conducive to…assessment than the public showings.”

I pocket the key card, mind already calculating how this changes our extraction timeline.

A private viewing means one-on-one access to Sofia.

It provides potential communication and a coordination of plans.

Maybe I could get her out early, before the auction even begins.

“Other interested parties?” I ask casually.

“Several.” Her smile is knowing. “Mr. Reed was quite insistent, though he’s now reconsidering his position. And we have another gentleman with a particular interest in the merchandise’s background. A long-standing arrangement, you might say.”

Dominic. Or his proxy.

The “special buyer” Jonah mentioned.

“I am not man who shares well,” I say, letting a hint of steel enter my voice.

“So I observed.” Madame Rouge closes her portfolio. “Rest assured, Mr. Volkov, we schedule private viewings with appropriate…intervals.”

I rise, inclining my head slightly. “Until tomorrow, then.”

“One more thing.” She stops me at the door.

“Your intervention with Mr. Reed was both gallant and profitable. The merchandise remains undamaged, which I appreciate.” Her eyes harden.

“But such protection extends only until purchase. After that, the buyers’ preferences are their own business. I trust we understand each other?”

The message is clear.

She doesn’t care what happens to these girls after they’re sold.

Doesn’t care if they live or die, suffer or survive.

They’re commodities, nothing more.

“Perfectly,” I reply, maintaining Dmitri’s cold demeanor while mentally adding her name to my list. “Business is business, after all.”

She nods, satisfied. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Volkov.”

I follow the guard back to the main hall, my mind already mapping contingencies.

The Irish are ready to move, itching for violence.

Marco’s team is in position around the perimeter. Jonah’s information about underground passages. Multiple family representatives to deal with, each with their own security details.

And now, a private viewing.

One hour alone with Sofia.

One hour to communicate, to plan, to prepare her for what’s coming.

One hour that might make the difference between success and catastrophic failure.

My phone buzzes with Marco’s response: Files incoming. D’Angelo, Kovac, Martinez all financially linked to Calabrese shell companies. Reed being monitored. Private viewing approved—USE IT.

I scroll through the attached documents, absorbing information on the three families now allied with Dominic.

The D’Angelos control ports from D.C. to Miami, giving them transportation infrastructure.

The Kovacs have connections throughout European law enforcement, providing protection.

The Martinez cartel offers distribution networks across North and South America.

Together, they form a trafficking empire that spans continents.

An empire with Sofia’s sale as its cornerstone alliance.

I return to my guest suite, locking the door before removing my jacket and the facial prosthetics that itch against my skin.

In the bathroom mirror, I stare at my real face for a moment.

It’s harder than I remember, my eyes colder than they used to be.

I splash water on my face then reapply the disguise with practiced movements.

Becoming Dmitri again, piece by piece.

The gray at the temples.

The slightly altered nose.

The harder set to the jaw.

As I work, I mentally outline the extraction plan.

Nine a.m.: Private viewing with Sofia. Communicate the plan, ensure she’s prepared.

Noon to 4 p.m.: Final preparations for the auction. Staff will be distracted, security stretched thin.

4 p.m.: Marco’s team moves into position at all exits.

6 p.m.: Irish assets neutralize perimeter guards.

8 p.m.: Auction begins.

8:30 p.m.: Power cut to main building. Backup generators engaged.

8:45 p.m.: Second power cut, taking out backups. Complete darkness.

9 p.m.: Extraction through east wing service corridors.

It’s a solid plan. Clean, efficient, with redundancies built in at each stage. The kind of operation I’ve run dozens of times before.

So why does it feel inadequate? Why does every scenario I run end with Sofia in danger, with bullets flying too close to her, with risks I’m not willing to take?

Because this is personal.

Because for the first time, I’m not just an enforcer or a family’s weapon.

I’m a man trying to save the woman he?—

I shut down the thought before it fully forms. Dangerous territory.

Focus on the mission. On getting her out. On getting all of them out. Then burning this whole corrupt network to ash.

Starting with Dominic Calabrese.

I check my weapons one last time, reviewing mental maps of the building, security rotations, and potential threats.

Tomorrow I see Sofia.

Tomorrow I set the endgame in motion.

Tomorrow, Madame Rouge learns what happens when you cage a Renaldi.

And when I come for what’s mine.