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Aria

Everything hurts.

I lean heavily against the wall in the locker room with a tired sigh. My legs are sore from walking all night in four-inch stiletto heels and an uncomfortably tight leather skirt.

Not like I have a choice.

Every server at Rose Club has the misfortune of wearing the infamous “little red skirt.”

It’s a full house tonight. I can still hear the rowdy music all the way back here. I will never understand how people can party all night and still manage to function the next day. I feel like crap, and all I want to do right now is go home and sleep.

Home. Will I even still have a home when I get back to my shabby one-room apartment? My landlord was very clear—and loud—this morning when she appeared at my door. Pay up your rent tonight or get thrown out.

I let out another sigh and slowly start to unbutton my shirt. If I could just get another modeling gig like the last one, I wouldn’t have to worry about rent for the next three months. But getting gigs has become impossibly hard with so many fresh faces coming into the industry these days. You have to know important people to get hired. Nobody wants to work with a struggling, broke waitress.

“Hey, Ary!”

I look up as Vivian enters the locker room, looking fabulous as always with her bright red lipstick and large hoop earrings. Vivian is unapologetically pretty and she carries herself with a loud confidence—the kind I wish I had. The patrons love her, and our manager loves her even more because she keeps the customers coming.

“Hi, Vivian.” I muster a tired smile, hoping she doesn’t try to chat because I’m tired as hell.

“Got a minute?”

No, not really.

“Sure, what’s up?” I ask, keeping my smile plastered on my face. I just want to sleep.

Vivian’s face brightens. “Well…you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

My eyes widen, my face heating up with embarrassment. Stupid me. I drank one glass of beer at the last employees’ hangout and then I went ahead to inform the whole staff about my lack of experience. I’ll never live that moment down.

“W-why do you ask?” I ask, shuffling uncomfortably on my feet.

“Chill, it’s not a big deal,” Vivian says with a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured fingers. “I have a job for you.”

“A job?”

“Yeah. I know some VIPs willing to pay good money for a modeling gig. I think you’re perfect for the job.”

“What does being a virgin have to do with a modeling gig?” I ask, blinking at her in surprise.

Vivian shrugs. “I don’t know…I think it’s for a high-end campaign or something exclusive. You know how these rich guys are—always obsessed with purity and all that weird crap. I think they just want someone with an innocent look.”

I narrow my eyes. Modeling gigs don’t usually come with personal questions about my sex life.

“Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to do it, but I heard the pay is really good,” Vivian says. “Two grand for just tonight.”

My heart skips a beat. Two thousand dollars is a lot of money for one night. I wouldn’t have to worry about rent for the next couple of months.

“But, what—”

“Look, it’s fine. I understand,” Vivian says, though her eyes flash with irritation. “I’ll just find someone else to—”

“Wait!” I say quickly, awkwardly clearing my throat. “I—I’ll do it.”

She beams, her pearly white teeth gleaming in the semi-dark locker room. “Great decision, Ary! Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

I nod and follow her out the door that leads to the back of the building. She stops by a black car parked on the edge of the street and raps her knuckles three times on the driver’s side window. The window slides down halfway, revealing a pudgy-faced man in dark clothes and shades that cover half his face.

Vivian gestures for me to stay while she leans through the window to talk to the man. I watch them exchange hushed whispers, my resolve crumbling with every passing second. Just when I’m starting to consider what a bad idea this whole thing is, Vivian straightens and flashes me a bright smile.

“Go on in, Ary,” she says, pulling open the passenger door. “He’ll take you to the venue and bring you back right after.”

I look at the man in the driver’s seat. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression set in stone. He looks downright scary, like a hitman from one of those action movies my dad used to love.

“Vivian…are you sure about this?” I ask, nervously biting down on my lip.

She looks hesitant for a moment, but then she smiles and I think I must have imagined it. “I’m sure. I think this will be a great gig for you. But if you want to back out, do it now.”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll do it.”

Not like I have a choice. I need to survive and would be a fool not to take this chance. Taking a deep breath, I slide into the passenger seat of the car, immediately fixing my seat belt. Vivian flashes me another quick smile before pushing the door closed. She waves at me as the car starts to pull away and I return the gesture.

Soon, the car is driving down the busy streets of Seattle. Again, I wonder how people are out so late at night, drinking and partying, but what’s Seattle without its nightlife?

I lean back against the headrest with a soft sigh. I trust Vivian, but I’m still not sure about this. I don’t even know where the driver is taking me. I try to pay attention to each turn, each landmark we pass, but I quickly get turned around. The next thing I know, the car is pulling up in front of a huge building in the middle of nowhere. The buildings on either side are dark, maybe abandoned, and I can’t see any street signs.

“Where are we?” I ask quietly, trying not to sound panicked.

The driver doesn’t respond as he gets out of the car, walks over to my side and pulls open the door, gesturing for me to get out. I oblige, ignoring the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. Another man joins us by the car, adding to my growing fear. He seemed to have materialized from the shadows. He’s tall, with fierce features and a thin scar that runs from beneath his left eye to his chin.

“She’s all yours,” the driver says quietly. His voice is shockingly high-pitched for a man with his build.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t say a word the whole way.

“Did you confirm she’s a virgin?” Scarface asks. He has a deep, cold voice, perfectly appropriate for his scary visage.

“Yes,” the driver replies curtly.

“Great.” Scarface turns to face me. “Come with me.”

He starts to walk away, toward the ominous-looking building. A steeple casts a shadow over us, and I realize the building is an old stone chapel.

A church? I guess that fits with the “innocent look” Vivian said they wanted. What kind of photo shoot is this?

I follow after him, half running to match his long strides, my feet crunching in the gravel. I glance back in time to see the black SUV driving away.

Didn’t Vivian promise he was going to take me back?

Inside the building, Scarface ignores the main sanctuary in front of us and turns to the right, into a dimly lit corridor that leads to a flight of stairs that seems to go down endlessly. Before we get to the stairs, a door is suddenly pushed open and I almost run into a tall, suited figure.

He pauses abruptly, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the corridors. The stranger’s vivid blue eyes search mine with a hint of curiosity—and something else. Everything about him, from his neatly groomed dark hair to his tailored suit and shiny shoes, speaks of his authority. Somehow, even in this scary situation, his presence makes me feel calm and safe. Like it wasn’t a mistake for me to come here.

I blush when I realize my eyes have been trailing up and down his body, and I return my gaze to his face, where I see something like…is that pity?

“Keep up,” Scarface snaps, pausing at the top of the stairs to give me a death stare. “We don’t have all night.

The stranger’s blue eyes flare, a dangerous glint that disappears quickly, replaced by a shutter of indifference. He turns around and walks away toward the door of the chapel, as if he’s leaving.

My heart sinks to my stomach, disappointment clawing at my chest. Why do I suddenly feel…bereft?

“Walk faster!” Scarface snaps again, and I increase my pace to catch up with him, trying to put the handsome blue-eyed stranger out of my mind.

By the time we get to the bottom of the stairs, my legs feel like they’re about to give way beneath me. It doesn’t help that I’m still wearing the killer heels and tight skirt from work. We’re deep underground by now, and I tell myself it’s the chill that causes goose bumps to break out along my arms, rather than fear.

Scarface turns to look at me, his eyes roaming my face and body for a blood-chilling moment. “What you have on will do,” he says, more to himself than me. “You’re up next. We don’t have time to get you changed.” He hands me a tag with the number six. “Pin that on your chest and go in through that door when you hear your number.”

He gestures to an iron door to my left and then starts to walk away, but I grab his arm without thinking. He gives me a dirty look and I quickly drop my hand. “I’m sorry…I was just…I was supposed to be here for a modeling gig, but I don’t really understand what’s going on. Can you tell me where I am and what I’m expected to do?”

His mouth tilts up in a small smile that sends chills running down my spine. “You’ll see, little bird,” he says cryptically, then walks away.

I’m still trying to make sense of everything when a loud voice from a speaker directly above me calls out the number six. Taking in a deep breath, I push open the heavy iron door and step inside.

I stop in my tracks as I’m suddenly blinded by bright lights and a roaring applause. Blinking against the harsh light, I try to make sense of my surroundings. I seem to be on some sort of stage in front of an audience of rowdy men, mostly middle-aged and dressed in dark suits.

I spot a few women in the crowd as well, but not many, all of them scantily dressed and seemingly attached to a man, either clutched tightly in a male embrace or… In the shadows, I catch sight of a head of long black hair bobbing over a man’s lap while he leans back in his chair, a predatory grin on his face.

My head starts to swim, my stomach revolting against the strong male stench in the large room.

Where is this place?

“Now, calm yourselves, gentlemen,” a voice says from beside me. I turn to see a middle-aged man on the stage with me, also dressed in a suit, a slick smile plastered on his face. “I can see why you’re all excited. Item number six is a beauty—and a virgin! Now, who’s ready to go home with this innocent little flower? Bidding starts at ten thousand dollars.”

The air grows thick with excitement and anticipation. My stomach tightens with dread, my heart thumping violently in my chest.

“Twelve thousand!” a man calls out, raising a numbered paddle.

My legs wobble as the reality of my situation starts to dawn on me. I’m not here for a modeling gig—I’m being auctioned off for money.

The events that led up to this moment flash through my mind in rapid succession. Was Vivian in on this?

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” another voice counters.

Oh god. What have I done?

“Seventeen!”

I gape in shock as the numbers keep flying around, ridiculously higher with each bid.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars!”

I can’t believe my ears. None of this seems real. I can’t believe that this many men are willing to pay such an immense amount to own me. Who are these people? Where is this place?

I have so many questions.

“Fifty thousand dollars,” a voice calls out from the end of the room. This voice is different. Calm, yet authoritative. The type that keeps powerful men grounded. I snap my gaze in his direction, and brilliant blue eyes meet mine. Dark. Possessive. My heart slams hard against my chest, and this time it’s not from fear. It’s something else…something potent. I can’t seem to look away.

It’s the man from the hallway. He came back.