Page 5 of Maxim (The Syndicates #12)

“S o pale.” The makeup artist tsks as she hits my face with product. “Look alive, child.”

Look alive? I’m barely breathing. My body shakes uncontrollably because of what’s to come. Fear, ice-cold fear, runs through my veins, making me look as if I’m a ghost.

Then again, maybe I am. Maybe I died and I just don’t remember and this is a really bad afterlife reel. Even through the pounds of makeup she applied, you can see the outline of the purple bags under my eyes, playing into my corpse-like appearance.

“You need to stop sweating. Honestly, child, you are a mess,” she hisses as she dabs my forehead.

Wouldn’t you be a mess too if you were about to be sold like a prized animal at an auction? Does she think I actually want this?

I thought Father was insane for the pampering he made me do before, but this week it was next level.

I had color applied to my light-blonde hair, making it appear more ice like, along with a trim.

Since I had recently been waxed, that was skipped, and I was forced to have a light coat of spray tan applied, nothing too drastic.

The manicure and pedicure were probably the only treatments I had done that I enjoyed. That quickly changed when I was forced to spend time with the stylist who put me in all types of lingerie trying to figure out which look best on my body and what would attract buyers the most.

We won’t even talk about the classes I had to take that revolved around how to please a man and how to be the perfect submissive. All I will say is that I about died when they showed me how to deep throat a fake penis until tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Your father wants to get top dollar for you. I don’t know how he expects for that to happen when you are so thin.” The stylist purses her lips. “Then again, men seem to like the childlike bodies these days for their playthings.”

Through it all, I kept waiting and hoping Father would walk into the room and tell me he changed his mind and I could come home. That going through this charade was punishment enough, but every time my door opened, it wasn’t him who entered.

I’ll never admit this out loud, but I miss him. I’d gladly take the worst of the worst punishments instead of this. At least then I knew I wasn’t alone. I miss the kids most, though. God, do they think I’ve abandoned them? Did he tell them that I won’t be coming home again? Do they think I’ve died?

They already struggled with the abandonment from their mothers, and now they are feeling abandoned by me. Something I never wanted for them. I hope and pray they know how much I love them and that I’m not gone because I want to be.

Szymon walks into the room. I can’t help but sway under his gaze, not with desire but because I feel like I might faint.

“Leave us,” he demands.

Please don’t leave me alone with him! I shout internally as everyone drops what they are doing and scurries out of the room. Once the door shuts behind them, he prowls toward me, never taking his eyes off of me through the mirror.

I flinch as he raises his large hand and runs it over my perfectly curled locks.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

When his hand reaches my shoulder, he moves it from my hair and wraps it around my throat. I can’t help but let out a whimper as he squeezes. Disgust rolls through me as his eyes flare with what I can only assume is desire.

“You know, I tried to save you, my pretty little doll,” he murmurs.

“Y-y-you did?”

He squeezes, tipping my chin up as he hums. “I did. I wanted to keep you for myself, but your father wouldn’t let me. He said keeping you so close to home wouldn’t be punishment enough and that I deserved better.”

“Do you believe him?” I ask lightly when he loosens his grip.

It takes Szymon a moment to speak, but when he does, he nods, making my heart shatter on the floor.

“I do.”

Szymon isn’t a man I would want to end up with, but it’s better to be with the devil you know than the one you don’t.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, my pretty little doll. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“T-then why are you here?”

His eyes narrow as he stares at my rapidly rising chest.

“Because I just needed one more moment alone with you before I take you out there. Everything is about to change for you. and I wanted to give you a piece of advice.” He moves his hand from the front of my throat to the back of my neck and squeezes.

“Do whatever your owner asks of you. If you don’t, that will be a death sentence. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Szymon,” I say through uneven breaths.

This is it. This is really happening. There is no turning back now.

“Good girl.” He presses a hard kiss to my lips before pulling back. “Now come with me.”

I stand only for my legs to start to go out beneath me.

“You’re shaking like a newborn fowl. Pull it together, Olena.” he demands as he catches me.

Once my legs are somewhat steady under me, he pulls me from the room. The hall is buzzing as we make our way through the venue until we reach the side of the stage. The auctioneer smiles when he sees we’ve arrived.

“Get your checkbooks out, ladies and gentleman, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of buy,” he says as Szymon pushes me onto the stage.

I stagger, almost falling, but I catch myself at the last minute. My cheeks heat in embarrassment as the crowd begins to chuckle.

“Now don’t be shy, child, step forward,” the auctioneer says.

Automatically my body complies even though all I want to do is turn around and run away.

The bright lights make me squint, but the heat coming off of them feels good on my clammy skin.

When he starts calling out numbers and the bids start pouring in, my vision narrows.

Oh god, this is really happening. There is no going back.

I don’t know why, but I find myself doing something I haven’t done since I was a small child. I begin to pray. I pray that whoever buys me and I’m forced to be with will be…kind.

Please don’t let me end up with the worst of the worst.

I thought the security on normal nights was impressive, but it has nothing on tonight.

Tonight they have full-body scanners like in an airport and are still patting everyone down. After being fully vetted and approved, I walk into the main room. As I make my way to the bar, I feel eyes on me. It takes everything in me to pretend like I don’t.

I just need to blend in, and then when the auction starts, gather as many names and details as I can. Everyone in this room that bids is going to pay for their crimes, even if they don’t end up walking away with a new slave.

Slave.

The word sours my stomach. I hate thinking of the people being sold as slaves, but that’s exactly what they are.

What a fucked-up world we live in.

“Thank you,” I say as I lift my glass from the bar.

“You are welcome, Mr. Boyko,” the woman with a slight Mediterranean accent says.

I don’t know why the fact she knows who I am surprises me, but it does. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and shove it into the tip bowl. Compared to other tips she will make tonight, it’s pocket change, but as far as I can tell, she deserves it.

Turning, I step away from the bar and scan the room, only to freeze when I spot a familiar face off in the distance.

Borris Sokolov, leader of the Russian Bratva based in Saint Petersburg, Russia.

What in the ever-living fuck is he doing here? It’s a well-known fact the man doesn’t leave Saint Petersburg unless absolutely necessary.

Unease crawls over my skin. What if he recognizes me?

I met him once, back when Nikolai took over the family and became the Pakahn.

He came to congratulate Nik along with all the other heads of the Bratva before they fell into discussions and deals.

It was four long days of peace treaty negotiations, and even though it was a serious time between the families, Sokolov left on day two stating he could do everything via video chat.

Before he left, though, the man was bold enough to ask all of us in Nik’s organization if we wanted to go home to the motherland with him. When none of us moved, he smiled and said, “Very well,” before walking away. It was…odd to say the least.

And now he’s here.

Oh, fuck.

Nik’s going to lose his mind when he realizes that one of the families he’s agreed to keep peace with is participating in this. This is surely going to mean war.

Shit, who else am I going to run into that I know tonight?

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath as I try to keep my emotions off my face. The last thing I need right now is to be made. I start walking to my left, toward the edge of the room. Maybe I can fall into the shadows and no one will notice me.

“Mr. Boyko!” a man says loudly behind me.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath before pasting on a smile and turning. “Mr. Nowak, how are you?”

“Please call me Jan. I’m fine, boy. How are you?”

“I’m well.”

The man claps my shoulder and laughs. “That’s what I like to hear. Are you ready for the sale?”

“I am.”

“Plan on buying any merchandise?” He winks.

I force myself to smirk to keep the disgust off my face. “Only time will tell.”

“Ah, a man who likes to see his options before settling. I admire that about you.”

Even though I shouldn’t, I find myself asking about Olena.

“I was expecting to see your daughter behind the bar tonight but saw that she’s absent. I hope the last meeting didn’t scare her off too much.” I wink.

Jan laughs, shaking his head. “She’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Before either of them can say anything more, someone calls for Jan.

“Go, I’m sure we can catch up another time,” I tell the asshole.

“Of course. Have a good night, Mr. Boyko. I do hope you see something you like enough to bid on this evening,” he says before walking away.

Blowing out a breath, I step back and into the shadows. Why did he blow off my concern for his daughter? That is strange, right?

Not the time or place, Maxim , I remind myself.

I bring my drink up to my mouth and scan the room once again. The place is full, and anticipation thrums through the air, making it feel electric. Before I can even take another drink, a bell is rung.

“It’s time to begin! Everyone head into the auction room. May your darkest desires come true tonight,” someone says through the speaker system.

I fall into step with others and head into the private room. I take a seat closest to the door and at the back of the room so I can see everyone with a simple turn of my head.

When everyone is sitting, the doors shut behind us and the lights start to dim.

This is it.

All I have to do is observe and report back to Alexei who will tell Nik. This will be a piece of cake.

Women and men of all ages are pushed onto the stage and stand in the blinding light while the auctioneer talks about them as if they are a prized cow.

After a while I become numb to it, but the ones that really make me regret coming undercover are the children.

The little girl that went for three million couldn’t have been older than five, and there was a boy around the age of three.

My hand twitches to bid on them, but I have nowhere to take them. I would need to keep them at my place until this is over, and I have no idea how to care for them.

No, instead I make note of who did take them. I will report to Alexei tonight and tell him who they are. By morning, they will be rescued.

The crowd becomes restless as the auctioneer tells everyone that there is one more left for the evening.

When she stumbles onto the stage, wide-eyed in lingerie so light I swear I can see through it, I curse.

My eyes instantly look toward her father.

Anger courses through me as I watch the man laugh as his daughter is up for sale.

I knew he was a sick fuck, but I wasn’t expecting this.

And to think he has two other small kids at home. Does he plan on selling them too?

Men and women alike begin to bid on the little fawn. When she starts to sway side to side and becomes as white as a sheet of paper, I act without thinking, raising the paddle in my hand that was meant for show.

As soon as the auctioneer points to me, acknowledging my bid, I feel eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her father smirk.

That sick bastard. That’s what he meant when he said he hoped I saw something worth bidding on tonight. He knew I’d see her.

I don’t even think about it as I raise my hand bid after bid until I’m the only one left and the auctioneer declares her as mine.

Jesus Christ, this wasn’t part of the plan. I was never supposed to buy someone.

Worst of all, though, one thought rolls through my mind on repeat. Does this make me as bad as everyone else in the room?