Eli. It has to be.
Probably texting to harass me about the auction, asking if I’ve heard anything yet, which I haven’t. It hasn’t even been twenty hours, but of course he’d be impatient.
As soon as I drop the plates at a table, I ask one of the girls to watch my section for a minute so I can run to the bathroom. My hands are already sweating by the time I slip into the stall and lock the door. Pulling out my phone, I open my messages, bracing for his name.
But it isn’t a text from Eli.
It’s from an unknown number again. My heart climbs right up my throat as I open it.
Unknown
Congratulations. You have been formally accepted to the auction. Below are your instructions. Please note: this text will disappear in thirty seconds.
I just stare, hardly trusting what I’m seeing.
I’m in.
I’m actually in, which somehow feels like a victory and a loss at the same time.
The details blur as I read: the auction is in four days, the time, the address, more rules about what to wear. Four days. That isn’t a lot of time to figure out what I’ll wear, how to get there, or how not to throw up every time I think about what I’m doing.
Then it hits me.
Oh my God. I have thirty seconds.
Panic lances through me. My fingers go numb as I try to screenshot the text, but a warning pops up and blocks it.
My inhales stutter as I scramble instead to copy and paste the information into an email draft, hands shaking so badly I almost hit the wrong button. I send it to myself, and the moment the message leaves my screen, the original text vanishes like it was never there.
Holy…
I unlock the stall and walk to the sink on unsteady legs, clutching the edge of the counter to take in my reflection.
How did my life end up here? Was I doomed from the start? Or did I choose this?
I don’t even know the answer, but whatever my life has become, I have to try to get out from under Eli’s thumb.
How am I even supposed to make sure Kirill shows up at the club that night? I don’t know if he goes there often or if he’s the kind of owner who keeps his distance, and it’s not like I can just ask him.
I need him to be there. I need him to win. He’s the only man I trust not to hurt me the way the others would. Maybe if I tell him I’m doing it for money, that I fought with my sister and got kicked out, he’ll feel sorry for me and let me crash at his place long enough for me to find the safe, block the cameras somehow, and take whatever Eli wants without Kirill ever knowing.
The idea is so pathetic, I almost laugh. It’s never going to work. I’ll have to stall with Eli as long as I can and pray I find another way to keep Milo safe.
In my head, I try to make it sound simple. Maybe Milo can stay with me. Kirill wouldn’t even have to see us. He could stay in his area of the house and we could stay in the basement or something.
Except that’s a lie and I know it, because I want to see him. All the time. I can’t stop thinking about him. About how gentle he is with Lev, how kind he’s been to me, and how much of a father he could be to Milo.
I’m sorry, Kirill. But I need to be done with the gang once and for all.
Even if I have to hurt you to do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SLOANE
The restof the week blurs into a nervous haze, and before I’m ready, the night of the auction arrives.
I’m already in the driver’s seat, the black pencil dress I’ve owned forever hugging my hips and thighs—a little tighter than I remember, though. I smooth it down for the fifth time, my fingers shaking from the nerves sitting in the pit of my gut.
