“Oy, Marie, you can’t fuck the whale.” Vasily slaps her hand away. Marie giggles louder.
“Whale?” Who the fuck are they talking about?
I scrub my eyes and force my brain to concentrate. Nothing about this basement bar is fun anymore. I don’t want to be here.
Where’s my phone? I need to call Chiara. She’ll help me.
My head throbs as the swell of music grows louder. People stumble around us, drunk. The DJ turns up the volume and more bodies crush onto the small dance floor. A drink splashes over the table in front of me. Marie lies across my lap. She’s nodded off. Or passed out.
Time passes, and then I realize Vasily’s vanished, only to be replaced by two women. One is tall with dark hair cut in a sleek bob, and the other is a petite redhead. Both wear jeans and crop tops. Both are attractive.
I don’t recognize either of them.
Did I zone out?
“Hey, beautiful, come with us.” The taller of the two curls her finger at me and smiles. She’s older. Mid-thirties at a guess. Nice figure, but I’m not interested. “Vasily’s waiting.”
Something about her voice jars. Maybe it’s her thick Slavic accent. Or the fact she’s stone cold sober in a bar full of wasted people. The vaulted ceiling above my head blurs, and when I focus on the woman, I see three of her.
My body doesn’t respond as I try to stand. I can barely string two thoughts together.
Marie slides off my lap and hits the floor with a thump. She’s lying in a puddle of alcohol. At least I think it’s alcohol.
I’m not especially fond of Marie, but a nagging voice in my head says I can’t leave her like this. Only I’m not in control.
A pair of hands grabs my left arm and tugs me up. My lips try to shape some words, but nothing comes out.
“Hurry before the security spots us,” the brunette says.
An image of Chiara pops into my brain. From the night of the gala, when she went full psycho on the women who assaulted me under the not-so-caring eye of my then-manager. If Chiara were here, she’d have thrown a glass at these women. Possibly punched them.
My girl’s a real spitfire when she gets going.
A smile quirks my lips upward.My girl.
“Jesus, he’s out of it. If we don’t move him now, he’ll pass out, and I’m not fucking carrying the heavy bastard,” the redhead mutters.
“Let’s go,” the brunette croons as she leans in. I catch a whiff of a heavy, musky perfume. It makes my stomach curdle, and I swallow. “Mama will look after you.”
“I don’t have a mother,” I try to say, but pure nonsense spills from my lips.
The women pull me to my feet between them. They casually step over Marie’s prone body as if she doesn’t exist. A good guy would be worried about Marie, but from her snores, it’s clear she’s asleep, not dead.
And besides, I have bigger problems right now.
Like how to stop these two women from taking me away from the bar…or is it a club? Something tells me their intentions are not honorable, and I’m on the verge of passing out any minute now.
We push through the crowd. A few women paw me, rubbing their bodies against me as I’m dragged away. It’s like they see me as nothing more than a pretty meat suit.
I’m not a person. I’m a doll.
My face and body are valuable commodities people will pay good money for.
A fact the brunette confirms when we finally step outside into a dark alleyway. The music and laughter abruptly ceases as the thick metal door slams shut in our wake.
“Conrad’s on his way. He’s been paid good money for this job.” The redhead chuckles.
“I wanna take him for a test ride,” she laughs. “I bet he has a big dick.” Her fingers grope my junk, and my stomach revolts. I vomit all over her, my stomach expelling all the drinks I’ve consumed.
