Page 21

A s soon as I open the office door, a man steps in front of me, his arms folded over his chest.

“I just need the restroom.” I assure the enormous man who I’m sure doubles as a bouncer for the club.

“It’s down the hall, on the right.” He steps back and nods in the direction I should take.

“Thanks. Back in a minute.” I wiggle my fingers at him as I head off down the hall. When I glance back over my shoulder, I find him only a few paces behind me. “You don’t need to come with me.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders. “Alexander said to be sure you stayed in his office.”

“I’ll be right back. I don’t think your boss would be happy with you coming into the bathroom with me.”

He grins. “I’ll stay outside.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

At least I’m being allowed out of the room to go to the bathroom without having a metal bucket kicked at me.

After I finish in the bathroom, my prison guard escorts me back toward the office. We’re almost there when his phone goes off and he stops to answer.

“Yeah?” He gestures for me to go into the office, but no deal. I’ll wait. The less I’m locked up in that room, the better.

His eyes darken, but it’s not at me. It’s because of whatever he’s being told on the phone. I can’t understand the conversation because he switches to Russian. But whatever it is, he’s pissed about it.

“You need to go back into the office and stay there.” He points to my new cell. Just because there’s no bars on it and the door isn’t locked, doesn’t make it any less than a cage.

“What’s wrong? Is Alexander all right?” Maybe his meeting didn’t go well. The men he was supposed to be sitting down with are dangerous. Not more so than him, I doubt there’s another man alive who could make Alexander nervous. But things don’t always go as planned.

“He’s fine,” the brute assures me. “But another one of our men has been hurt. I need to see to him. You need to stay in the office.” He stalks past me and shoves the door open. “Just stay inside.”

I don’t miss the little plea in his voice.

“Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t. Just stay here.” He jerks his head toward the opening.

If one of their men is really hurt, every second he wastes on me is a second that man might need. Without any more argument from me, I enter the office, and the door is slammed behind me.

Pacing through the office, frustration simmers as I inspect the same four walls I’ve already scrutinized too many times. I drop into Alexander’s chair and pull out a piece of paper. With no computer, television, or even a damn radio, I’m left to create my own distraction.

Being an only child, there were plenty of times I needed to entertain myself. I grab a pen from the cup on the desk and get to work on sketching a familiar design I used to doodle in my notebooks. Nothing distinguishable, just jagged lines that connect at random intervals.

If I had colored pencils I could make a sort of stained glass look, but the black pens will have to do.

At the bottom of the page, I sign my name, then pause when I get to my last name.

I briefly hesitate, then scribble Volkov. Just to see what it looks like.

Megan Volkov.

Not horrible.

It’s at this point the pen decides to leak all over my hand. Well, crap. I drop the pen onto the paper. I need to wash this off before I get it on my clothes or on any of the furniture.

My guard still isn’t back, and the hallway is empty, so I take myself down to the bathroom and wash off as much of the ink as I can.

The corridor is quiet when I step back out. I look down toward the office, then to the other side toward the stairwell we passed when we first arrived.

A loud crash captures my attention, and I pause, considering my options. Alexander made himself clear on what he would do if he caught me outside his office.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” A female’s panicked voice wafts up the stairwell.

Decision made. If she’s being hurt, I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I’m sure as hell not going to stand by as one of these arrogant pricks tries to hurt her.

When I get to the bottom of the stairwell, I find myself in a small foyer with an open door leading into a large room. A woman kneels on the floor, examining her palm.

“Are you all right?” I hurry into the lounge, taking in the dark-red and black leather chairs with a hasty glance. She’s kneeling beside one of the tables.

Her cheeks blanch when she finds me standing over her.

“Who are you?” she questions immediately.

“I’m Megan. I heard the crash.” I gesture to the tray of broken glass beer steins surrounding her on the black marble flooring.

She looks down at it.

“My toe caught on one of the chairs and sent me flying.” She grimaces and went back to checking out her palm where she is bleeding.

“You cut yourself.” I squat down beside her.

“It’s fine.” Blood drips down her hand and rolls off her wrist onto the floor.

“It doesn’t look fine.” I look around for a napkin but find nothing. “Where’s the kitchen or a bathroom? You need something to wrap around your hand.”

“What the fuck happened?” A familiar booming voice shakes the glass on the tray from behind me.

I sigh, then slowly turn around, still squatting.

“The steins broke, and she cut her hand,” I try to explain, but he’s glaring down at me from the entrance as though I’ve committed the worst of all sins.

I suppose to him I have. I didn’t obey his little command to stay in the office.

“How bad is it?” Ivan pushes past Alexander to get to us.

“They’re all broke.” The woman frowns and looks down at all the shattered glass.

“Not the steins. Your hand.” Ivan’s voice tenses as he squats down, grabbing her wrist to inspect the injury himself. “It’s deep.”

“It will be fine. I need to wash it, though.” She starts to stand, and he still doesn’t let go of her hand.

“Put it up over your head to slow the bleeding.” Ivan raises her arm up into the air. “Let’s go.”

“I can handle it,” she argues, but he just keeps walking with her, holding her wrist up.

“Don’t touch that,” Alexander snaps when I reach for the broken shards, thinking to finish cleaning up the mess.

I pull my hand back and get to my feet.

“I was just helping.”

“You’re supposed to be in my office.” He shakes his head. “Just once. Just one fucking time would you listen?”

“I went to the bathroom, and I heard the glasses crash. I only came down because I heard her. She’s hurt.” I jerk my hand in the directionIvan had taken her.

Now that I’m standing and not distracted by the injured woman, I take in my surroundings.

“Oh my God.” It’s like I’ve stepped into another world.

Every inch of the club drips with elegance. Crystal chandeliers hang from the black marble ceiling. Walls trimmed in gold. It should be too much, but it’s the perfect amount of sex appeal and elegance.

“That guy, the first night when I was in that room, he said something about an auction.” I step over the broken glass; the implications sink like lead in my stomach. Everything makes an awful kind of sense now.

“Is that… were you auctioning off women?” I’m not sure what I expected to find down here, but not this.

“I should have tied you to my desk.” The darkness of his expression sends a chill down my spine. He doesn’t even have the moral compass to look guilty.

“You put women in these cages? And the men… what…? They drink and play cards and when they feel the need to get their dick wet, they take one out to play with?” I wrap my hands around the thick black metal bars of one of the cages.

“The women put themselves in the cages.”

What? Why? They wouldn’t possibly do that unless they had to, right? “And that makes it better?”

“Megan. A lot of things happen down here. Some of it you won’t like; some of it you’ll be indifferent to, and none of it is any of your business.” He steps around the glass and heads straight for me.

“Where are the women now? Do you have them locked up in one of your tower rooms?” I look toward the hallway whereIvan took the girl. “Is that girl one of them?”

He stops and heaves a breath.

“I don’t sell women.” Each word is said with finality. Like it’s important that I believe him.

He stands in front of me, so close that my back is pressed against the wall of the cage.

“You just rent them out.” It’s an accusation.

I curl my trembling hands into fists. He warned me about believing him to be anything more than the monster he is, but I’d almost done it anyway.

“This club is one of the most sought-after memberships in the country. Not just this city but the country.” His voice dips, as though I’ve insulted him by degrading what he does here. “Everyone who comes here does so willingly. They pay to come here.”

“You’re telling me the women pay you ?” He must think I’m a complete moron.

He stares at me a long moment, pushing his lips together while he considers telling me anything more than he already has.

“Yes. It’s very much like a beauty salon. The women rent space to do whatever they want to do to make money. I don’t police them. I have security here to keep them safe. That’s what they pay for.”

“Are you going to put me here?” It would be a good way to punish me. Sell me to the highest bidder, then he gets rid of me and any problems that come along with me. Plus, he gets the cash.

His eyes roll upward.

“My wife will never set foot down here again.” He grabs my chin. His fingers pinch my cheeks into my teeth. “My wife shouldn’t be down here now.”

“I’m not your wife.” Why do I have to keep reminding him?

“Not yet,” he grounds out. “But I’m going to change that real fucking soon.”

“What else happens down here?” I can’t argue about a marriage that’s not going to happen. Not yet.

“Business happens. Deals are made. Political alliances are kept and broken. Everything that needs to be done in the dark, is done in this room.” He steps to the left and turns my face toward the doors lined up against the far wall.

“In those rooms, men and women have fantasies fulfilled. They fuck and get fucked. No one is forced.” It seems to be important that I understand the last part.

I swallow hard when he drags my attention back to his face.

“That night you found me in that office, you thought I was here because of this club?”

His eyes wander over my face. “Whoever told you about that office knows about this club.”

“And they could be looking for me too?”

He arches a brow. “She finally gets it. You’ve put powerful men in danger of being caught, Megan. They don’t like loose ends.” He whispers the last part.

I stare at the doors to the fantasy rooms, imagining each one closing, the sound one of finality. I’m a loose end. I’m the unpredictable, something he can’t control. Closing my eyes briefly, a sense of fatality washes over me.

“Okay. I get it. I understand.” I try to pull away from his grip, but he’s not done.

“Do you?”

Marco DeAngelo is one problem, but a secret danger is another. Without knowing who I should be hiding from, how can I hide?

“I do, Alexander. Really. I get it.” I wrap my hand around his wrist, and he slowly lets up on his grip.

“Good.” He lets my chin go, but captures my hand, lacing his fingers through mine and tugging.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he half drags me across the room, avoiding the tables as we weave in and out of them.

“You wanted to see what this place is, so I’m going to show you.” He heads for one of the closed doors.

“Wait. I’m sorry. You don’t need to do that.” I fight his grip but there’s no point. Haven’t I learned yet? If he wants me somewhere, that’s where I’m going.

He stops at the door, looking down at me with fire burning bright in his dark eyes. His nostrils flare a little with each deep breath he takes.

“What did I say before I left you in the office?”

I blink, trying to remember which threat he gave me today.

“You said if I was…” I swallow hard. “If I was a good girl, you’d make me scream with pleasure.”

“And were you a good girl?” His hand rests on the golden door handle.

“I tried.” It’s barely a whisper. I can barely find my voice when his expression screams danger is ahead.

The left side of his mouth kicks up and he pushes the door handle down, opening the door to the room.

“Not good enough.”

I tear my gaze away from him and glance at the room. My heart stops. I can’t go in there.

I can’t.