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Roman

I want to punch Sergio in the fucking face for suggesting to buy the girl. Dick-faced bastard.

Now, the whole room is contemplating the idea of owning the gorgeous redhead in the short blue-and-green sequin dress that hugs her curvy body in all the right places. There’s absolutely no doubt in the world that she’s drop-dead gorgeous. Her thick, curly red hair and those pouty pink lips affect me in a way no other woman ever has.

That’s where the problem lies.

From the moment I spotted her in the parking lot getting out of that badass truck, my mind has been a clusterfuck of thoughts. It was obvious that she doesn’t belong here—but it was also obvious that she was intent on gaining access to the building regardless. I couldn’t stop myself from helping her into the chapel, though I told myself I couldn’t get involved any further.

There’s something about the fierceness in her expression that reaches for a part of me I’m unwilling to give, unwilling to share with the world.

Life hasn’t been fair to a boy like me who grew up in the slums of Harlem with addicts for parents. I ran off to Seattle when I was fourteen, and got odd jobs in a biker bar where I sometimes slept. I used to sneak into the public school for classes, especially art, and that’s where I met Warren Flint—my best friend for most of my teenage years. Even when he went to an art college in New York and I remained in Seattle, we kept in touch.

It turned out that even though I’m a good artist, I enjoy dealing art even more. With my previous jobs in biker bars and other clubs, my connections and reputation grew in the criminal underworld. And that’s how I met Lucian Devereaux, who hosts the art auctions here at the chapel. I wouldn’t consider him a friend, but we have a lot in common and often exchange clients and artifacts.

My reputation precedes me, and my clients know not to fuck around with me. I might look sophisticated in my sleek suit and shoes, but I don’t suffer fools, nor do I let my friends die unjustly. I don’t have many of them, but the few I have are dear to me. And that’s why I’m attending this auction—to locate one of Warren’s paintings that has gone missing. I’m hoping it might lead me to a clue about his so-called suicide.

If his death was just a suicide, then why did his last painting go missing?

For the life of me, I didn’t expect to have to deal with this striking auctioneer who makes my cock hard and my heart race with the need to possess her.

I wondered what Lucian was playing at when she arrived, but it’s clear that he’s as clueless as I am. It’s obvious that she has no idea about art dealing or being an auctioneer, but she does have a little knowledge of art—enough to convince the rich old fools who just want to spend their money on the most expensive artifact.

Why is she here?

“Well, I-I’m not for sale,” a soft, husky voice interrupts the excited chatter in the room.

It pulls me out of my thoughts, and for some reason my lips pull to the side in a smile. Despite her fear, she spoke up for herself. It makes me even more attracted to her.

Sergio guffaws, his laughter grating on my nerves. “Who do you think you are to object? Everything in this room has a price, even you,” he declares, then laughs noisily. It mingles with the spattering of laughter in the room.

Then Sergio turns to Lucian. “Lucian, I want that hot piece of ass for a plaything. The one I bought last month isn’t any fun anymore. And I hear redheads are feisty in bed.” He guffaws again, and this time the whole room joins in.

Distaste spreads inside me as I take in his red face and greedy eyes. Violence becomes a living breathing fire that burns through me as I take in the growing fear in her brown eyes. The need to protect her from his rotten soul beats at me.

She’s mine, and no one dares to take what’s mine.

Fuck. Where did that thought come from?

Still, I straighten in my seat. What if I declare ownership of her? Just to protect her from their grubby hands. Everyone knows not to fuck with me. And if Sergio needs a reminder, then I’m happy to oblige.

I turn to Lucian, arching a brow, my eyes telling him to do something or I’ll intervene. I know he’s in a difficult position due to his role here at the chapel, since his father is the owner of this entire operation. Lucian shares my distaste for the auctions that take place in the main auction hall, and he prefers to deal in artwork, not women. His expression assures me he’ll do his best to talk his way out of this.

I shift my gaze back to the woman on stage, only to find her eyes on me. My heart warms, and I almost smile reassuringly at her.

What the fuck?

“Now, Sergio,” Lucian drawls. “We’re here to talk about art. And I’ve got the Van Gogh you’ve been dying to own. You can purchase a new plaything another time.”

I turn to watch Sergio’s lips part with greed at the prospect of owning the famous piece, but then they turn down in a sneer and my hands bunch into fists.

“The idea is tempting, Lucian,” he says in an offhand manner. “But I doubt I’ll find her the next time I want to buy a new plaything. Besides, I have enough money to buy both the art and her. Name your price.”

Voices mingle, rising in support of Sergio’s statement.

“Yes!”

“Name your price!”

Greedy fuckers.

A soft growl of warning almost leaves my lips, and it takes years of hard-won discipline to hold it in. I don’t understand the possessiveness I feel, or the flare of protective instincts at the sight of her distressed state.

I want to keep this woman happy and safe at all costs, and it’s alarming how strong the need is. What is it about her that pulls at the base of my being and makes me want to give her everything? I try to ignore it, but I can’t. It’s all-consuming and quickly taking over the sane part of my mind.

“Alright, everyone,” Lucian declares with a raised brow. “If I’m going to allow this to happen, then anyone who pays to own her will forfeit their initial plan to buy any art tonight.”

There’s a resounding silence as the men contemplate their decisions. In that moment, my gaze shifts to meet Lucian’s. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I don’t think his idea will work. Most of these men have more than enough money to buy whatever the fuck they want whenever they want.

“I agree,” Sergio says, confirming my thoughts.

Lucian’s expression barely changes, but as he meets my eyes again I know what he’s saying: This is out of my hands. You want to protect her? You buy her.

Before long, the whole room is agreeing with Sergio, and I listen, my body rigid with molten anger, as they haggle and bid for her.

“Three million,” Sergio calls out, countering a two million bid.

It’s obvious that he’s determined to have the gorgeous redhead. I should join in, but it goes against my moral code to bid on a living person as if they’re cattle.

I’ve always known what goes on in the chapel, and even though I find it distasteful, I don’t consider it my business. After all, I’ve only ever attended to buy art for my clients. It takes a morally skewed person to know about the depraved activity and do nothing—which I admit I am—but it takes someone truly evil to take part in it.

“Four million,” someone else declares, and Sergio counters immediately. “Five million!”

My attention returns to the woman on stage, and I see her eyes widen with fear and disbelief. She should be scared. I’ve heard a lot of things about Sergio and none of them are good. He’s an evil bastard who thrives on seeing his plaything bleed. Suddenly, the image of her soft, creamy flesh marred and stained with blood fills my mind, and my anger reaches a threshold.

My grip tightens on the chair’s arms. She should be pampered and worshiped, not used and discarded like Sergio would undoubtedly do. I would rather go against my morals than have him take her from me. The soft growl I tried to hold on to leaves my lips, heightening the tension in the room.

“Ten million.” My voice rings out in the deafening silence, and my gaze doesn’t waver from hers.

Even through the tension of the moment, need punches into my gut and makes my blood sing. I can’t let her go, or imagine her in someone else’s arms. If anyone in this room is allowed to have her, it’s me.

Sergio sputters at my declaration, and I almost smile, knowing my sudden bid has put him off.

“Twelve million,” he says in a wobbly voice.

I shift my gaze to him and call out in a hard, resolute tone. “Fifteen million.” My cold gaze remains on his, telling him I’ll bid higher, no matter the price.

He sputters again and I arch a brow, daring him. I couldn’t care less what everyone else thinks about me in this moment.

“Well, gentlemen, Roman is the highest bidder at fifteen million,” Lucian says, looking around the room. “If anyone would like to counter, now is the time…” After a few seconds of silence, he declares, “Sold—Roman gets to take her home.” I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. He might have felt trapped into performing this sick auction, but at least he knows I won’t hurt the girl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Lucian asks, turning his attention to her.

She exhales softly and answers, “My name is Bella.”

Bella . It’s a beautiful name that fits her well. I’m amazed at her strength, despite her growing fear and discomfort. The only indication that what has just transpired doesn’t sit well with her is the way she folds her trembling hand on the hem of her dress.

“Bella, you’ll be going home with Roman,” Lucian declares, and she swallows and nods.

“Not so fast,” Sergio says, drawing the attention of everyone. “As we know, the tradition of the chapel states that the buyer tests his merchandise and gives us a show. Roman shouldn’t be an exception. Isn’t that right, Lucian?” he adds in a sly tone that matches the sick delight in his eyes.

“That’s not fucking happening. This isn’t like the regular auctions,” I say darkly, straightening the cuffs of my sleeves.

“Lucian should decide that,” Sergio replies, then swallows at the full force of my cold stare.

“I have to agree with Roman,” Lucian replies brusquely. “I invited you all to bid on stolen artifacts, not on girls. If I wanted to watch a show, then I know where to go and so do you all.”

“If you didn’t want a show, then you shouldn’t have allowed the bid to take place,” another voice chimes in.

I could argue the idea, but I know I won’t win. More voices join in, filling the room with noisy chatter. Although it pains me to admit, I know I’d better give them all the show they’re clamoring for.

“Come here,” I say softly to Bella.

The wide flare of her soft brown eyes is tantalizing as I watch her leave the stage. The noise in the room dies down as she walks toward me. I’ve never been more grateful for the corner I’m seated in—it gives me control over the room and how much they can see.

As soon as she stops before me, I tug her into my lap, reveling in her soft gasp of shock. She sits sideways, her legs hanging off my thighs. Her scent hits me—a soft blend of jasmine and vanilla—and it goes straight to my aching cock. I pull her tense body closer and place my lips against her ear, delighting in her slight shiver as she relaxes in my arms. It’s good to know that I affect her the same way she affects me.

“I know this isn’t what you were expecting tonight, but we have to comply with their demands if we want to get out of here. Is that okay?” I whisper into her ear.

I can feel the pointed stares around us, the air rife with their arousal and delight about what’s going to happen. I push back the malevolent feeling riding at me at the thought of giving them a show.

“H-how far do we have to go?” Bella asks hesitantly, her brows furrowing in concern.

My hand reaches up of its own accord to smooth the wrinkle on her forehead, my heart tightening as I imagine what I would do if she was hurt, or if I ever see tears in those almond-shaped eyes. I sweep her thick red hair behind her ear and slide my hands to cup her cheeks. “Don’t think about anything or anyone. It’s just you and me. Trust me.” I search her gaze as I gently slide a finger over her lower lip.

She nods gently, and my heart warms at the blatant look of trust in her soft brown eyes. They reel me in until I’m drunk in her gaze, and I slowly guide her mouth to mine, smiling softly as she meets me halfway. Our lips touch, sending currents streaking through my blood. Her movements are soft and hesitant on mine, warming up my body.

I can’t hold back. The sparks of need push at me until I deepen the kiss, devouring her lips in a passionate embrace.