Chapter 2

S ix Months Ago

REESE

“ T he auction is next week,” my father says, his icy hands playing with a loose strand of my hair.

I hate it when he touches me. It’s never the touch of a father but of someone who wants something a father never should. Something seedy and vile.

I search my mother’s face. She can’t meet the gaze of her almost twenty-one-year-old daughter. Her eyes are fixed on the intricate patterns on the rug beneath her feet. “You gonna say anything? Or are you okay with me being sold like a street hooker?”

She stands beside my father, wringing her hands, looking like the perfect little mafia wife—complacent, quiet, taking all his punches and abuse without saying a damn word.

My father steps between us. His body brushes against mine, making me feel sick to my stomach. “She does what she’s told. Just as you will if you know what’s good for you.”

That’s the thing about caged animals: they’re defeated or become worse than their captor. I’m not the creature that wilts away like my mother did. I’m the fighter, the one who will chew off her own limb to get the fuck out.

Over the years, I’ve had a front-row seat to my father peeling away my mother’s layers until only an empty shell remained. The eyes that shimmered with light as we played and sang our songs vanished, leaving a void of fear.

Don’t worry, Mother. Soon, he’ll take you to the slaughterhouse and find someone new to ruin.

Back straight, head held high, I glare my father down, refusing to look away from his intense stare. “I’m never gonna let you sell me. You’ll have to kill me first.”

Vincent Ferreri cocks his head as if examining something strange and foreign. I guess no one has dared to challenge him before. They groomed my father to run the empire from the moment he emerged screaming from my grandmother’s womb.

He steps closer before bending to whisper, “Don’t think I won’t consider that, amore .”

The stony smile and icy blue stare tell me my father won’t think twice about slitting the throat of his only daughter because, to him, I’m a toy to manipulate and use until I break, and there’s nothing left.

“Yes, Papa, I understand,” I lie.

I will never understand. Tonight, I’ll take control of my life for the first time in almost twenty-one years.

B eing the daughter of one of the most notorious dons in the United States allows me access to people and places others could only dream of. It isn’t because people like to hang out with my father and his minions; they fear the terror my father commands. Fear allows my father’s name to carry more weight than it should.

I was invited to Provocateur, a high-class sex club for the rich and powerful. The high-profile figures who frequent the club are why every patron must wear a mask. Hidden identity means less of a liability.

The only reason I got an invitation was that I caught Stone Miller fucking his stepmother. The possibility of me spilling his dirty secret to his psychotic father petrifies him. Stone’s family owns Provocateur and every other sex club in the city.

I got in no problem with a signed NDA. The thing said if I talked about the club, they would annihilate me, the equivalent of telling me I’d be swimming with the fish. I’m not sure what they have on me since my only claim to fame is being the daughter of Vincent Ferreri.

So here I stand in front of the cast iron door leading to the pits of hell, the dwelling of Lucifer himself. I’m about to have sex with a random stranger so I can stick it to my father and his demented plans.

The door flings open, revealing a new world that seems more depraved than the one I occupy. But this depravity doesn’t harm or use anyone unless they want to be victims.

The upper echelon of society loves their kinks—craves them—but they don’t want to let the depravity ruin the fake facades they’ve created. Politicians who like to wear diapers while they suck on a woman’s tit. Lawyers who like to be tied up on a cross and whipped. A famous actress paraded around like a puppy, licking her owner's shoes.

I’m about to leave through those cast iron doors when a deep voice murmurs,“You see anything you like?”

I turn to see his face, but firm hands capture my waist, his touch a fiery brand on my skin. “Not yet, princess. Be a good girl and stay still.”

I rub my legs together. I’m smothered in kerosene and ignited into flames by the stranger. He has one of those deep voices that can get you off just by saying hello.

Get it under control, Reese.

I push against him. If I’m going to be a mess, he sure as fuck will be, too. “What happens if I don’t listen?”

A dark chuckle tickles my ear, and the sound invades my body in ways it shouldn’t. “Then you’ll get punished.”

Punished.

“Do I get to punish you in return?”

He nips at my ear lobe. “Usually, I’d say no, but I’ll allow you to indulge if that’s your kink.” The warmth of his lips grazes my shoulder, moving back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. “I think you’ll like the punishment my dick, mouth, and hands will give. You won’t have the energy to do anything else after I’m done with you.”

I tilt my head back. I’ve spent my whole life under the control of men, but this time I’m allowing it. No one is forcing me. I don’t even know what this guy looks like, and I’m already under his control. It’s both frustrating and liberating. Control. That’s something I’ve never had, and now it’s all up to me…not to mention it will piss off my father. Two birds, one stone.

I smile. “What are you waiting for?”