I know it’s her before my eyes find her, my body reacting to the sound before my mind catches up. I’ve listened to every tape Viktor sent, studied the cadence of her voice. I’d know that sound anywhere.
And here she is.
Fuck. The photograph didn’t prepare me.
Jana stands on the stage in a simple black dress that does nothing to hide the curves she tried to downplay. Her hair is pulled back, revealing the elegant line of her neck. My hands itch to wrap around it, to feel her pulse hammer under my palm. Her eyes hold me, and my lungs seize.
Those marble-brown eyes are filled with fear she refuses to show and a courage she can’t hide. The power in her stillness is a challenge.
My cock hardens, pressing against my zipper with an uncomfortable urgency. The response is immediate, a crack in the control I’ve spent two decades fortifying.
What the fuck is she doing to me?
I cock my head, a deliberate, cold gesture to mask the raw impulse to cross the room and claim her. “You don’t want him punished? He used my club for human trafficking, and he should just walk?”
She swallows hard, her throat working. Then she steps forward, away from the other girls who huddle behind her. She moves toward me, putting herself between the threat I represent and the women she feels responsible for.
The nerve on her.
“We weren’t trafficked. We were here to sell…” She stumbles but lifts her chin in that same proud gesture from her photo. “We had an arrangement with Mr. Asyniy. An agreement we entered willingly. No one was forced.”
My brows shoot up. She’s defending him. Standing up to me, as if courage is a shield against me.
“I was forced. Forced to have my club used for this auction without my consent.” I let that land, watching her process the distinction.
“Well…” She searches for an argument, for leverage that doesn’t exist.
“Enough.” Her mouth rounds in surprise before she presses her lips into a firm line. She knows when she’s hit a wall.
“Daniil, make sure each girl gets an escort home. The auction is over.” I see Jana’s protest forming and lock her gaze. “Write them each a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. Make sure they understand this is generosity, not a negotiation.”
You belong to me.
Relief floods the other girls’ faces. They mouth thank-yous to me, to Jana, scrambling for the exit.
“No. You stay.” I point at Jana as she starts to move with the others. The authority in my voice stops her mid-step.
The other girls freeze, then scatter. Heels click frantically against the hardwood as they flee, not one of them looking back at the woman who just stood up for them. Predictable.
I don’t release Jana’s glare until the room is empty, save for my men and the girl who just became mine.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t cry. She just stares at me, memorizing my face.
That defiant courage coils something tight and proprietary in my gut. My hands ache to touch her. I want to see if that spine stays straight when I have her beneath me.
I smile.
“Now,milaya," I say softly, descending the steps toward the stage with deliberate slowness, "let's talk about why you thought selling your virginity to strangers was a good idea."
Chapter two
Jana
The door closes and I'm alone with him now—truly alone, despite the two men flanking the exit like sentinels. His security doesn’t count. They belong to him the same way he clearly thinks I do. Rafail Ismailov doesn't move from his position at the base of the stage. Just watches me with those winter-gray eyes, his stillness more threatening than Volodymyr's pleading ever was.
The other girls ran. Smart girls. Girls with backup plans and people who'd notice if they vanished. I have a dying grandmother and a delivery app that'll replace me by morning. I Besides predators chase what runs. So I lock my knees and stay where I am, even as every instinct screams at me to bolt.
"Come down here."
