Page 80 of The Masked King

I unlock the door and step into the room. Malevsky is there in his customary black suit, but he isn’t alone. Four black-suited thugs, all armed, provide backup, in case I attack the pakhan with a machine gun and a grenade in my mouth. One of them is gripping Zara’s arm tightly.

I lock eyes with her and try to convey that I never wished her any harm. “Let her go. This has nothing to do with her.”

The thug releases Zara’s arm, and she joins Malevsky with a small smile on her face. The young woman who appeared so vulnerable earlier is gone, replaced by someone who knows their work here is done.

“I never had any intention of hurting my cousin, Ms. Payne.”

His cousin? She played me, and I was so desperate I bought it like it was a free sale at Tiffany’s.

“Do you not see the resemblance?” He turns his profile towards me. No? You genuinely believed she would risk her life to help you? For what? What can you offer her, Demi?”

“Just because you don’t understand kindness, it doesn’t mean that everyone else lives by the same gutter standards.”

“Wrong again.” He shakes his head as if my mistakes make him sad. “I do understand kindness. Why do you think I didn’t end your life when I killed Michael Douglas?”

I don’t bother replying.

“Unless you want me to watch while my men see if you are worth the asking price, I suggest you cross the room slowly and sit on the bed like a good girl.”

The room starts to spin as nausea crashes through me. “Asking price? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sit down, Ms. Payne! I will not tell you again.”

I believe him. I do as I’m told and sit on the bed, pulling the sheet up to my chin.

The bed dips when Malevsky sits on the end. I draw my legs towards me, the thought of him touching me making my flesh crawl. I can’t even face Zara.

“Auctions do not only exist for artwork and antiques, Demi. I expect you to make me a substantial sum of money, in fact, several bids are already much higher than I anticipated. It seems your police badge appeals to a certain type of buyer. I might consider making it my specialty in the future. My brand, if you like.”

“You kept me alive so you could sell me?” I almost choke on the fear crawling through me. “What happens when the buyer realizes he’s been duped and asks for his money back?”

He furrows his brow, and I keep going.

“Because if you think I’m fucking someone because they bought me, you’re living in la-la land.”

“You will have no choice.” His expression is so fucking smug I could punch him in the throat and risk getting shot by his goons.

Once the thought materializes, it gives me the clarity I’ve been missing since I first woke up in this room. I lunge at him, using the element of surprise to poke my middle and index fingers into his eyes and dig deep into his sockets.

Malevsky punches the side of my head, sending me sprawling across the room where I hit the wall side-on and crumple onto the floor.

The goons surround me; guns aimed directly at my head.

My head feels like someone dropped a bowling ball on it, and the right side of my face is throbbing. I’m scared to touch it, scared to speak in case my jaw is dislocated.

They didn’t shoot me, God-fucking-dammit! Why didn’t they kill me?

Malesky crouches in front of me, dabbing at his eyes with a bloody handkerchief. “Perhaps now you understand your predicament.”

I raise my eyes to him and do something I’ve never done before. I produce a glob of saliva and spit in his face.

He raises his fist to punch me again, and stops himself, probably because he could kill me with one blow and that would seriously fuck up his auction.

“Just so we’re clear,” he begins, “I do not care about you, Ms. Payne. I could have you buried alive somewhere you will never be found, and you would never enter my mind again. It would be as if you never existed.”

“So, why don’t you?” The words don’t sound right, but I’m not performing any diagnostics on my jaw right now.

“You are here to help me get revenge.”