“And such a shame it was.” Sharon holds a hand to her heart, as if she has one. “But Victor believed in the cause, and he’ll be sleeping peacefully that his money has turned what was a singular experience into a whole enterprise.” She signals towards the ballroom, where the sound of exaggerated laughter booms around the entire manor.
I don’t look away from her pinched face.A singular experience.As in, one Axel against a room filled with thirsty, greedy women. My stomach churns, her wickedness knowing no bounds.
“You really are vile,” I repeat from the morning she called me down to the spa. Sharon’s pale eyes flash to mine, her painted lips twisting into a smile. She thinks she’s winning, and I suppose as long as she’s pulling all the strings, she is.
“They don’t seem to mind,” she gestures to a few students passing to retrieve trays of champagne flutes and head straight back. “Imagine drowning in student loans until presented with the chance to not only survive but to live a life you’d never dreamed of. They’re well paid, making invaluable connections and gaining experiences the ordinarycan’t even imagine, all for the small cost of surrendering their bodies once a week. I’ve done it myself for years. Trust me, it pays to be promiscuous.”
I think we all look away in disgust at the same time, staring at various spots on the floor. Garrett goes one step further and spits at her open-toed heels.
“It’s a brothel, no matter how you sugar coat it.”
“Agree to disagree. Everyone here is of consensual age and by choice. They’re free to leave whenever they wish, as are you,” Sharon adds, as if we’re here by choice. The sick feeling in my stomach has increased during this interaction, with the taste of bile lingering in my throat.
None of this ended with Axel leaving. It only snowballed into something much bigger than any of us. Sharon’s morals are one thing, but the hum of activity in the room down the hall is her validation. All of those people are swelling her ego, proving that she can control whatever she sees fit under this roof. I know the others are thinking it too, but we’re getting Axel out of here as soon as he’s able to be moved.
The clock chimes again, another hour passing. Richard slips his hand around Sharon’s waist and pulls her into his side possessively. Together, the pair stride away, not bothering to look back. We’re trailing just behind anyway. Garrett steps into Wyatt’s side, giving him a slight shove with his shoulder and casting a glance back at Avery. Or rather, Avery’s cleavage.
“What were you thinking, dressing her up like that?”
Wyatt grunts but doesn’t indulge him. “What the hell are you doing down here? Someone needs to stay with Axel.” Another round of shoulder shoving happens, and I debate splitting them up, but I’m the fortunate one who has Avery’s arm linked in mine.
“He’s asleep, and his door is locked.” Garrett waves a key in the air before returning it to his breast pocket. “You shouldn’t be flaunting Avery around in front of these predators.”
“She’s a big girl,” I hear Wyatt’s eye roll. “And a beautiful one. You should be self-assured that it doesn’t matter who’s looking at her, as long as she’s looking at you.” Beside me, Avery’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and when Wyatt peeks over his shoulder at her to wink, she stops walking completely. “Or maybe she’ll be looking at me.” Dax crashes into our backs, hissing at the jolt of his damaged fingers.
Didhe just make a joke? Wyatt the serious? Wyatt the runner from all problems and happiness?Whatever character he’s slipped into, he maintains it as I encourage Avery to step into the ballroom. Running the length of this wing, the wooden dance floor is surrounded by lavish chairs and set tables, tall candelabras glimmering on each. Velvet curtains in the richest shade of plum are drawn over a row of windows. Gold flourishes line the ceiling and surround the chandelier hanging in the center.
We enter the room as a tight unit, ready to play out this charade and get back to our rooms as quickly as possible. Behind us, the butler closes the doors in turn with a loud bang. Many eyes turn our way, but Top Knot’s are the ones that stick out to me the most. He quickly excuses himself from the older man’s company and bounds over. The smile on his face is Joker-worthy as he clasps me on the shoulder like old friends.
“Huxley! You made it. Thank fuck it’s Friday, am I right?” He winks before letting those eyes wander. I resist blocking Avery from his view, just about. Wyatt is right, naturally people will look. She’s stunning, but we can’t swaddle her forever. Although the possessive part of me struggles to stand down, my arm tensing into a steely grip around hers.
“Evening, Taylor,” Avery bats her lashes. At least this brings his attention back up from her breasts. Disregarding the other guys looming over us, Top Knot looks back to me with his wicked smile still in place.
“You know, you should join us on stage tonight. It’s a hell of a thrill.” My mouth gapes open, the notion spiking just a fierce response within me. I’m temporarily dumbfounded by it. Before I can conjure the words without exploding, his name is called from across the room, and he salutes us goodbye, disappearing back into the crowd. His top-knot appears every so often, and soon enough I realize who called for him.
Sharon ascends a temporary stage, her tight dress restricting her movement. Top-Knot and Richard follow just behind, remaining one step down like her loyal lapdogs. Once in front of the microphone, she clinks her glass lightly, calling for silence. The giggles and murmurs subside almost instantly, replaced by a tense quiet hinged on the side of anticipation.
Apparently, it’s showtime.
Chapter Twenty Eight
“Good evening, everyone,” Sharon smiles at her enthralled audience from her raised podium. My stomach twists painfully, my heart hammering so hard that I’m sure it’s visible through the thin straps of this dress. I have no idea what game Wyatt is playing, dressing us up and parading us around when the idea was to lay low, but I can’t spare it any thought now. Not when I’m about to witness a live reenactment of Axel’s trauma taking place in front of me.
“Welcome to what is due to be another splendid evening. A small bit of housekeeping for the newbies, and then we can jump straight into the main event. The auction.” A round of cheers and raised glasses fills the room, tempering down as Sharon lifts her hand. “As you will have noticed, each one of our Lots has a number stripped to their wrist. This figure is the early buyout fee if you should wish to secure your partner for the evening, although I must say, bidding is half the fun,” Sharon winks, accompanied by another round of agreement. “I do hope you have all had the chance to mingle, because I’m going to now ask the Lots to leave the room to prepare.
“We have an exciting development this evening.” I swallow harshly while dread turns my stomach to stone. A few of the keen-eyed guests cast sly glances our way, sensing that we’re new here. Luckily, Sharon reaches for Taylor’s hand and beckons him onto the stage.
“Tonight, our beautiful Taylor here is available for silent bids only.If you’d like to try your chances, please find the pens and paper at the back of the room, where you can slip your bid into the box provided. The highest bid at the end of the night will be the winner.” Taylor’s eyes create a beeline to the man he was hanging on the arm of and gives a challenging raise of his brow. Sharon allows him to leave, joining his fellow friends on the dance floor.
“As always, transfers need to be settled in the drawing room before you are able to claim your prize. For early buyouts, please come see me now. Otherwise, take your seats, and happy bidding.”
With this, the students wave fluttery fingers and some even blow kisses before departing through a door at the back of the room. Taylor is last, his head poking out of the crowd to search for Huxley. When their eyes connect, Taylor gestures to the back room with a questioning raised brow. Huxley stiffens, his clenched arm crushing mine, and he curses ‘fuck no’under his breath.
The guests choose their seats, a few waitresses smoothly filtering in to make sure a champagne glass is in every hand. Bidding paddles are casually placed on the tables, like this is just another Friday night dinner party. The polished chandeliers overhead cast sharp light across their faces, illuminating their predatory expressions. The atmosphere is suffocating, each breath of air heavy with the sickly sweet scent of expensive perfume.
Huxley’s arm is still locked with mine, and I can feel the tremble in his muscles even as he tries to hold himself together. I glance sideways at him, his face pale and his jaw set tight. He refuses to look at me, his gaze glued to the stage where Taylor had disappeared moments before. I don’t know what’s beyond that door, and I don’t want to know.
Wyatt steps closer to us, his presence a source of both comfort and frustration. He nudges Huxley’s other side, forcing us to move towards a lonely table in the back corner. Overcast in shadow, this table seems to be reserved for spectating only, which no one tonight seems interested in. They’re all muttering excitedly between themselves, hungry for their piece of flesh.
