Nassor Abadu took a swig of the drink, the burning liquid rolling down his throat. He checked his watch. In less than five minutes, the auction would begin. He’d almost finished this week of important diplomatic meetings in the United States without visiting the controversial House of Alexa.
He’d heard about it during a happy hour in an upscale bar in Gwokon, and decided to try it. He’d had to make a few calls to secure an invitation—all the other men occupying the large room had been either recommended by friends, or invited. One couldn’t just walk up to the mansion outside Las Vegas and wander inside.
Better this way.
He didn’t want to necessarily advertise he was the king of Gwokon. Well, king regent. By Gwokondenese laws, until his coronation a week later, he’d be regent. When the weight of the crown fell on his head, a lot would change. He’d no longer travel overseas easily; instead, he’d deal with a packed schedule to turn things around and take the economy out of the toilet.
Ever since his uncle had been diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer’s disease, he’d made even worse decisions than before. Alas, at least King Feruzi had addressed his people about his illness. Since Feruzi had never been able to father a child to any of his three wives—now deceased—he introduced his nephew to the people as the new leader.
Nassor glanced around. The dim light and the smoke coming from the roof gave the ambience a misleading sense of intimacy. Rows of chairs filled the space as waitresses zigzagged in between powerful men to offer drinks.
Nassor reached for the paddle he’d be given when he checked in.
He’d never bedded a virgin. The novelty seduced him. He’d have to pick not one, but three or four wives after he became king, and be faithful to each of them until the end of their marriage. Yes, polygamy was not only legal but highly encouraged in his country, especially for royalty. He’d be able to give himself to four different women, while not really giving himself completely to any of them.
He’d behave in the manner his people—and his mother—expected of him. The collar of his shirt felt tighter around his neck. In many ways, his life was over. But what choice did he have? Fulfilling his duty meant pretending to everyone, all the time. Even himself.
“Gentlemen, please turn off your cell phones. Recording is not allowed. If you try, security will remove you from the crowd and break your device.”
A tall woman with jet-black hair walked up to the stage and stepped onto the podium to the right. The light focused on her, and the male guests rapidly found their seats and focused their attention on her. Nassor recognized her from the pictures he’d seen online—the famous Madame Alexa.
Rumor had it influential men had offered her millions of dollars in exchange for one night with her, but she’d denied every single one of them. Nassor sat in the front, the place he’d been assigned.
“Good evening. Please meet our own Mother of Dragons, except…she’s a history buff who’s eagerly looking to find herself, dare we say, a virginity slayer?” she said, then the light left her and the focus traveled through the stage.
Smoke swirled from the mouths of two dragon statues, each located next to a column. Bronze curtains draped from the top, and a large chair occupied the space, along with fine tapestry and other accents representing the set of a popular series.
A song filled the background, drumming sounds but no lyrics.
A woman appeared from behind the curtains, strutting onto the stage with her head high. Every part of his body reacted, attuned to her presence. A deep shade of brown wove into a braid to the side, and Nassor’s fingers itched to touch her. A thread of desire zapped within him. The heavy eye makeup enhanced her beautiful green eyes, but he wondered if she needed all that goo on her flawless skin, the color of dark honey.
“Miss L is twenty-four years old. She loves animals, graduated the top of her class in college, and is a fast learner—let that sink in, gentlemen.”
Nassor cleared his throat, his pulse thrumming. He could almost hear the intake of breath from some of his fellow guests. The guy to his side, a man in his fifties, drummed his fingers on his knee impatiently as Madame Alexa carried on her rehearsed spiel.
Nassor kept his attention on the woman, who wore a golden dress that outlined her delectable curves. Quickly, the image of Miss L in his bed, with him taking her from behind as he tugged at her braid, filled his mind. His cock hardened, heart pounding in his ears.
The guy sitting next to him cleared his throat, warning Nassor he wasn’t the only one salivating over Miss L.
Nassor’s fingers balled into a fist. He wouldn’t allow any other man to win. Cursing under his breath, he straightened his shoulders and maintained his attention on her. When her wandering gaze found his, his heart flipped in his chest. Anticipation throbbed in his veins. She held the stare, her lips parting a bit.
His throat became dry and thick, even though he’d had a drink not long ago. He upped his brow, and she tilted her chin in a silent challenge. Did she want him to bid on her, or was she warning him off? A thrill raced down his spine.
“Three hundred thousand dollars.” The shout from a few rows behind him yanked him from his musings. He shook his head and tossed a glance over his shoulder to the fifty-something red-haired man lifting his paddle.
Nassor snorted. Obviously, he’d use his own money for this…transaction. Money he’d earned during years working as a financial investor. He had to sell his business a couple months prior, and thankfully had enough in his bank to afford such a crazy indulgence. He’d never use a cent from the kingdom for his own needs.
“Four hundred thousand,” someone else hollered.
“Miss L, why don’t you give them a taste?” Madame Alexa said, talking to the woman on center stage.
Miss L glanced at the crowd, then touched the sides of her dress. Swiftly, she pulled at the sides and with a swoosh, removing the extra fabric, revealed a beige corset that seemed like it’d time traveled from a former century. Sparkling beads created a nice pattern, embellishing the fabric. The top part tightened her generous breasts, and Nassor didn’t miss the rise and fall of the corset, in tandem with her breathing. Finally, she showed a hint of vulnerability.
Nassor stared at her, unapologetically, while she wriggled out of the bottom part and soon displayed shapely legs. So feminine and sexy.
She tossed a glance his way, and he kept his gaze on her. Quickly, she looked away, with a lovely shade of red staining her cheeks. Resolution filled his chest, and he drummed his fingers on his paddle.
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” the red-haired man shouted.
