Chapter 4

Michael

I can't get April out of my mind the rest of the afternoon; so I decide to put someone else in charge of the door when the club opens. I need to stay in the back, see her again. Make sure I'm wrong about the hunch that she doesn't want to do this. As the auction participants arrive, I give them the same reassuring smile I always do, letting them know they'll be safe as long as they're under my roof. It's up to Calloway and Antonov to make sure the men who are doing the bidding aren't actually degenerates who might harm them once they leave.

One of the regulars gives me a grin and a high-five on her way to the dressing room. She must be saving for something big, or maybe she just likes the thrill of seeing how she can twist these rich old guys around her little finger. The time draws nearer and I go out into the alley behind the club, wondering if April's having second thoughts and won't show up. I don't know if I'll be relieved or disappointed not to see her again.

Then I see a flash of her glossy hair in the streetlamps as she rounds the corner, being dragged by the old guy from that afternoon. His face is twisted in a look of pure rage and hers is frozen with fear. She stumbles and tries to grab the corner, her hand scraping futilely along the brick as he yanks her forward.

The sound of her voice pleading makes my blood go cold, then burning hot when I hear the slap and his sharp voice ordering her to shut up and act right.

I knew it, and I hate being right about this. I have two options. Beat the shit out of the old guy and end up in jail while the auction goes on without me, or put a stop to this the right way. It takes every ounce of willpower not to rush forward and start slamming the man into the pavement, but I turn and head inside to find Calloway instead.

"The old guy just hit April," I say when I find her about to go into the dressing room to approve the stage outfits. "She doesn't want to be here. You need to cut her loose."

The brisk, business-like manager gives me a pained look. "She signed a contract, Michael. There was nothing strange about her interview. She seems excited to make some money and—"

"Nope, no way. That's not how it is."

"You saw her uncle hit her?" she demands.

I swear under my breath. "I heard it. And I heard her begging not to have to do this."

Calloway's eye roll is barely contained. "You could have heard her clapping her hands, and maybe she's got stage fright. The virgins often get a little nervous."

"Is that why you won't pull her? Is she the only one tonight? Can't disappoint the pack of hyenas out there when there's no fresh meat."

Her pained look is stronger than ever. "You know that's not it. I'll talk to her in the dressing room, away from her uncle. Will that calm you down?"

It feels like I won't ever be calm again when April and the old guy—her uncle, I guess, though what kind of family member would be down with something like this—come in through the back exit. There's a big smile on April's face and she assures Calloway she's excited as she's hustled toward the dressing room. It's not real. I'd bet everything I own she's acting.

I follow them, trying to catch April's eye, but she seems almost in a daze and soon she's in the dressing room. I give her uncle a look that makes him go pale and causes him to leave in a hurry.

Pacing back and forth in the hallway, I wait for her to come out so I can offer to get her home safely. Somewhere else, if home means the same place as the uncle who got her into this. But the music starts and the first participant goes on stage. It's a fairly quick auction because they just want to get to the star of the show that night, April. It'll be mayhem when they announce the virgin's been canceled, so I head to the front to keep the peace.

Except, the virgin isn't canceled, she's called onto the stage. What the hell? Why didn't Calloway call it off?

The music and lights seem to confuse her for a second, then she shakily begins walking across the boards to the hoots and hollers and bids of the hyenas in the crowd. For a second I'm almost knocked out by how incredibly hot she looks, practically naked in a few scraps of sheer lace. Shoving my way up close to the stage, I can see she's barely keeping it together and I ignore the pull of my cock against my jeans. Christ, she's beautiful.

And terrified.

And there's a bruise on her ribs.

Fuck no, she clearly doesn't want to be here, and fuck no am I letting someone take her home. Someone other than me, that is.

I throw out a bid that's slightly higher than the last one, setting off a fresh round of shouted numbers that are so high it makes my head spin. I raise the bid again, turning to glare at anyone nearby who dares to beat me. I'm not supposed to be bidding, much less acting threateningly toward the audience. This is against the rules and I'll be fired if I keep going, but I've already put this place behind me. The second Calloway let April go onto that stage, I was done. Done with the crazy high salary I'll never get anywhere else. That's fine.

But is she worth giving up the last two years of my life and everything I've been working toward? Everything I've been sacrificing for? Is she worth the dream of a quiet life on my vineyard?

The announcer reminds everyone she's a virgin, setting off a new round of bids and making me clench my fists so hard it seems like my fingers might break. Her gaze sweeps the crowd but her eyes are glazed with fear, her knees practically knocking together. I bellow out the highest number I can afford because nothing else matters except getting her out of here.

I jump onto the stage and stare down the crowd. They better get the hint that bidding is over—because nothing is taking my girl from me. If I need to, I'll rush her from the stage and set the place on fire behind me. There are men there that could buy and sell me twice over and I brace myself for violence, but there are no more bids. The crowd recedes with a mass grumble, already waiting for the next participant to come out so they can try again.

I won. April is mine.

Now that it's over, she hugs her arms around herself, swaying on her feet as she stares at me in shock. I take a step forward so she can see my face better.

"April," I yell, holding out my hand to her.

She blinks at me; her face a pale mask of confusion. When she catches my eye, her lush mouth rounds in shock.

"My angel," she sighs. Then she topples forward, passing out in my arms.