45. Tasha

45

It's almost nine at night and I'm starting to doubt my choices. Matteo hasn't come for me.

Through a double French door that sections off one part of the presidential suite, music is playing, men are talking, drinking, networking. Around the price of a virgin.

It would seem Stephano has a regular client base that's into this type of thing, and they like to flex by getting together like this and riling each other up. Apparently, my starting bid is one and a half million dollars, and Stephano aims to triple that tonight.

I'm all primed for what has to be the most exclusive virgin auction I've ever conjured up during the long boring days. After Stephano bundled me into his car, we came straight to this five-star hotel and the presidential suite. The beauty team was here, treating me as if I'm getting married in the morning. Head to toe exfoliation, waxed everywhere and beyond, nails done, hair done, make-up done, and now I'm dressed in the white strapless dress I tried on in Matteo's apartment. That feels like months ago now, and as I stare at myself in the mirror, I want to burst into tears.

Matteo wanted to cancel tonight. I insisted on this. I've made my bed; now I'm going to lie in it with some prick whose hands?—

I can't bear thinking of it, and I can't cry. Stephano has been with me all the time, and losing face in front of him is the last thing I want to do. He has been working on his laptop, always within earshot, but not watching me, only making sure things progress without me speaking much. My French isn't up to scratch and the women who worked on me seemed to have been selected based on their lack of English. Stephano is totally disinterested beyond getting this auction done. At some point, he showered and got dressed in a tux, but I can't recall when. We've hardly exchanged two words that weren't an instruction from him, and me an obedient little dog.

One of his bodyguards knocks on the door jamb and Stephano stands. He takes a boutique tote from the man and peers inside as he walks in my direction. I'm not allowed to sit because it will crease my dress, and already my heels are killing me.

Stephano drops the bag to the bed and takes my hand. "Did Matteo do this to you?" He runs his thumb along the red cut marks on my wrist, then meets my gaze.

"No." I quiver at his touch, but it's not him, it's my nerves.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Matteo said the debt's settled?"

"I don't know what he meant by that." I bite my lip, wishing he'd let go of me, but I force myself to keep steady. I need to get used to unwanted touches from a man I don't know.

He lets go of my hand and shakes several jewelry boxes from the bag onto the bed. They fall open to reveal two wide chainmail bracelets with a matching golden necklace that looks like a collar. "Normally I wouldn't put something like this on you, but I can't have you go on auction with these marks. Here."

I hold out my arm for him and he wraps one bracelet around my wrist. It's malleable and soft against my skin, structured to fit any size. I turn my palm up so he can close the little hooks, so it fits snugly. He does the other one and grasps my fingers for a second. "Do you want something to calm you down? You're shaking like a leaf."

I chuckle, but it's nervous. "You're offering me drugs?"

"Yes."

"By the time I'm done with you lot I'll be an addict."

"I take it that's a no."

"It's a no, thank you. I'd like to be fully present."

He reaches for the collar and steps behind me. My hair is in an elegant updo, accentuating my neck and bare shoulders, and all I can do is watch in the mirror as he completes my look. Once he's done, he meets my gaze in the mirror. "You're good to go."

I look like a million dollars, but I've never felt cheaper. "What's going to happen now?"

"We go next door. You get to mingle. It's a silent auction and once there're no more electronic bids on our app, the winner will do a transfer and he will take you to the suite next door. You'll be alone with him until noon tomorrow. I'll be here the entire time. There're cameras almost everywhere except next door. I have guards at the elevator, so don't try and escape. I'll meet you tomorrow after the fact and then we'll make our way home."

I get to go home? That sounds too good to be true.

"And Matteo?"

Stephano shrugs. "He isn't here, is he?"

It's been five hours. Five long hours of torture, a lifetime to contemplate what's coming my way.

And Matteo isn't here. My heart falls, and for the first time I realize how fragile it is. It's going to hit rock bottom and shatter into a thousand pieces.