Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Charleigh

I spent only one night in the club’s suite, and now I’m in the third room I’ve had since the guys took me from the pawn shop.

Actually, I’m in a house. A very large house. And not surprisingly, it’s just as beautiful as the rooms I stayed in at the club. Actually, more so.

While there is a central house on the property, or should I say compound, each guy has his own cottage. Although they’re not very cottage-y if you ask me. Each one’s bigger than where my whole family lives. They are modern with lots of glass, metal, and slanted roofs. I can tell from the outside they have their own stone fireplaces. I bet they have amazing kitchens too, the kind I see of celebrity’s houses on Pinterest.

I am to stay in the central house, or the ‘big house,’ as I have named it. It’s palatial, with a gigantic, curving staircase in the foyer, and more rooms than I can count. The house is full of the fragrance of flowers, something I wouldn’t expect the guys to care much about, and there are housekeepers and other staff milling about.

They smile at me politely and don’t say a thing.

The guys briefly show me around and then to my room, which is even bigger and nicer than what I had at the club.

And yes, once again someone moved over my belongings, placing them just where they were in the previous room. So strange.

“Is my room here a safe room? Can I lock it like the other one?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I have to say, these guys spare no expense when it comes to beds. This third one is just as heavenly as the first two I slept on. And the sheets are an incredible silky cotton…

But I remind myself I’m here for just a few days. Best not get used to it. Who knows what kind of hell-hole I’m going to land in on the other side. Just because the guys are auctioning me to the man who will pay the most for my virginity, that doesn’t mean he’s going to be using his fortune to make me comfortable.

“You don’t need a safe room here,” Vadik says. “We have several guards and the perimeter is secured with an electric fence.”

“Wow. That was an electric fence?” I ask, thinking back to the beautiful black gate we entered the property through.

“Yup. Doesn’t look like it, does it? That’s the whole idea. The security team also flies drones several times a day to check things out. So you’re safe anywhere on the property.”

I find that hard to believe, but these guys know way more about this sort of thing than I do.

Seeing the three of them in my room, in their dark bespoke suits, simply giving me the lay of the land, seems so strangely normal. Like I’m being briefed at a new job or something. They point out this and that as if they really want me to feel at home.

I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m going to become a return customer.

I wonder if Niko will sleep with me again. I have no idea what his brothers thought of our doing that, but they couldn’t have been too happy about it, based on the limited conversation I overheard afterwards.

Don’t get attached.

You’re too soft, Niko.

Don’t think with your little head. It’ll only get you into trouble.

Niko, with his tousled blond hair and mixed-up parentage. At times it’s unfathomable that he is part of the criminal underworld. He is sweet and kind. And makes me feel secure. The night he spent with me was a dream. I woke up in the middle of it just to take in his masculine beauty, see his chest rise and fall, and listen to him breathe. When I wove my fingers through his, just to see how it felt, his hand clasped mine right back. He didn’t even wake up.

Kir has his dangerous edge, one that occasionally reminds me to watch what I say. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. Ever. Has he always been like that? Or did the death of his beloved Clara turn him into something temperamental and cold? The first time I encountered Dimitri, Kir’s sheer force in escorting him out of the club was frightening. I thought for sure he was going to kill the man. Of course, knowing what I now do, I wish he had killed him.

Yes, I am wishing someone dead. That’s something I never would have done two weeks ago. I also wouldn’t have given a relative stranger a blow job two weeks ago, nor pranced around in high heels and a short skirt with my behind hanging out.

No, I’d be bumming around in my ripped jeans, Converse Chucks, and meeting up with Luci to study and plan our bookkeeping careers. We even talked about, once we got our certificates, getting an apartment together in Chicago. We figured there are lots of bookkeeping jobs in a big city like that.

Last, there’s Vadik, the big brother, who’s hard to read with his hot-cold personality. I’m never sure where I stand with him. Regardless, every time I see a little past his hard, outer veneer, which seldom happens, my stomach flips and my heart races. He’s gorgeous in a tough-guy sort of way with his shaved head and scowling eyebrows. If I ran into him in a parking garage, I’d probably head the other way. He has that kind of power. It’s the only way I can think to put it. I mean, when he looks at me, I could swear he sees through me. Like he knows my thoughts.

And desires.

Then there’s the way they touch me. Each one sends me spinning, flying into some sort of sexy, alternate universe. Don’t they feel it too? How we connect through sexual pleasure? I don’t get how the hell they are so willing to just toss me to the highest bidder, like I’m nothing. Nothing to them, nothing to anyone.

Are they that coldhearted?

The bastards.

All for my virginity. Once that’s gone, will I be cast aside like some sort of trash? And why, in these men’s eyes, is that the most valuable thing about me?

It’s as if I—or any woman, for that matter—am nothing more than a vagina. Nothing more than my ability to provide a man with a way to pleasure himself.

How is it they think like that? Where did they learn that?

On top of everything, and perhaps worst of all, I’m madly attracted to them. I hate it. I hate that I’m weak, and I hate myself for not hating them, the very people taking away everything that’s ever been important to me.

It’s crazy and makes no sense, but I crave their touch. I think about it night and day. When I share a meal with them, I can barely swallow. When they’re in close proximity to my bedroom, I can’t sleep. When they speak to me, I don’t follow the words they’re saying.

The contradictions make my head spin.

I’d do anything right now to just dive into one of my bookkeeping textbooks. They are my safe place. That’s what I love about the subject. It’s orderly. A place for everything. Predictable. There are rules, and everybody follows them.

I am comfortable in that world. When I am immersed, I feel like I’m wrapping a warm blanket around myself. Like I’ve found a place where I belong. And found something I am good at.

Those days are over now, unless I can change the path I’m on.

Which will take a freaking miracle.

**********

Charleigh

The next couple days pass uneventfully. The staff has started talking to me a little and the housekeeper even let me help in the kitchen. If they are curious about my status—where I’ve come from and how long I’m staying—they don’t mention it.

It’s almost like they’ve seen women come and go from the place before.

Of course they have. I’m just another number.

The thought is like a grinding pit in my stomach. I am one of how many?

Have they seen women like me so many times they don’t care anymore? Have they lost some of their humanity, like me? Or are they totally devoid of it by this point, like the Alekseev brothers and the members of their club?

While each of the guys has his own place on the property, they meet and conduct business here in the big house, where my room is tucked away upstairs and at the end of a long hall.

And this morning, as I was getting ready to walk to their parents’ memorial garden, I hear them meeting with their door open, something I’ve never seen them do.

When my name is spoken, I slow down.

“How many bidders will we have tomorrow night?” Vadik asks.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, my life will essentially be over. I choke back a sob. I am so tired of crying.

Papers shuffle. “I’m going through the RSVP list right now. According to Dominika… it looks like fifty or so,” Niko answers.

There’s a long, low whistle, and Kir speaks up. “Damn. We’ve never had a turnout like that.”

The auction is on. Coming like a freight train.

I feel like someone is sitting on my chest. I sink to the floor outside the guys’ office, no longer able to stand. I’m actually grateful I’m having trouble breathing. Maybe things will end for me, saving me a lot of trouble.

Of course, then my dad’s debts wouldn’t be paid. But I wouldn’t be around for that to be my problem anymore.

Crushed. That’s what I am. Completely and totally crushed. I suppose on some level I thought I might get a free pass. That I’d dazzled the guys so much they couldn’t bear to part with me. That I’d be the one they set free—whatever free looks like in their world.

But no. I’m still just a walking, talking bank deposit. I’m their ticket to financial stability. Nothing more.

Jesus, I’m an idiot.

What the hell did I expect?

A person is not forced to sign a contract and taken to a criminals’ club by nice people.

I struggle to my feet and rush out the front door before they find me eavesdropping. As always, the guards are patrolling, so taking off is not an option.

Today is no different from any other day.

So, I head over to the engraved bench in their parents’ garden.

Mama and Papa, it says.

These guys know loss. They know pain. And yet they can’t empathize with me? I settle into the place where I’ve spent the last couple days reading books out of the guys’ library, but this time I just bury my face in my hands.

To lose all hope is like having your breath stolen. It is the lowest, darkest place a person can be. It’s lonely and sad and full of sorrow. So many sorrows.

That’s where I am right now.

****

Vadik

It will be one happy fucking day when I can stop thinking about the club all the time. Seriously. We guys have other businesses to attend to that are far more profitable than this vanity project we are keeping on life support out loyalty to our father. Running it is an endless, thankless task, even if we have Dominika to manage the day-to-day.

Dealing with the problems of our members, their card games, the strippers, and everybody else drains me. I am a goddamn babysitter.

Given the choice, we’d abandon the club without much thought or regret. My brothers have been willing to let it go for some time. I’m just not ready yet. Someday I will be.

But today is not that day.

We invite Charleigh down to have breakfast with us, but she declines. In fact, she’s downright abrupt, not that that sort of thing fazes me, but it’s out of character for her. She’s usually pretty upbeat, especially considering what she’s facing, and has never once been snippy. Until today. Maybe it’s that time of the month or something.

It’s no wonder Uncle Mikey almost ran the club into the ground and absconded with whatever money he could grab. He didn’t see it as a big priority, either. In fact, he probably found it a pain in the ass that my father left it to him at all. He stuck around for two years, which I suppose in his mind completed his duty, and left the country before the authorities could nab him.

We have no idea where he’s gone, although I figure we’ll hear from him at some point. He’ll want money or have a stupid reason to return to the US, like to get a cavity filled or something, and he’ll want our help with a fake passport, disguise, transportation, and all that.

And those steps still won’t guarantee the Feds won’t be on his ass. If I were him, I’d never come back. The chances of getting caught are too high. But that’s me.

No one ever said Uncle Mikey was all that bright.

Imagine. Getting busted when you’ve come into the country just to get some dental work done.

The thought makes me laugh out loud. Kir and Niko look up at me from their poached eggs. They say nothing. We all have a lot on our minds, and I’m grateful to have entertained myself for a moment. I’ll share my funny scenario with my brothers another time, when they are more receptive to it.

I know what they are thinking. I can read people. I don’t know how I do it or why. But others’ thoughts seem to come to me.

I’d rather they didn’t. I don’t want to know what people are thinking. I have enough of my own shit going on. But it does come in handy. Like right now.

The guys have trepidation about the auction.

I get it. Charleigh is lovely, and we’d like to see her stick around. To be honest, I have uneasiness around it too. This is new to me. After all, I’m not much more than a heartless bastard.

I can’t count the number of men I’ve killed, people I’ve forced out of business, and the number of fingers, arms, and legs I’ve broken.

There are a few necks in there too.

I am not a good man.

Neither are my brothers, but on the scale from good to bad, I’m closer to the bad end of the spectrum than most anyone I know.

Even Dimitri is not like me. Sure, he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s too stupid to really do much harm. With the way he wears his emotions on his sleeve, he has no hope of ever outmaneuvering anyone. He just doesn’t have it in him, and the only reason he’s stuck around for so long, rather than going off and finding a new profession altogether, is that he has his dad’s money, which enables him to spend his days any way he wants.

Even when they are as unproductive as a life can get.

If you have enough money, people will tell you anything you want to hear. Dimitri is so out of his league, and so completely unaware he’s out of his league due to people blowing smoke up his ass, it’s almost funny.

Thus, the biggest benefit of having my brothers. Whenever I start acting like a dick, they don’t hesitate to cut me down to size. Thank God.

I’d otherwise be insufferable. Or more insufferable than I already am.