Anastasia
I’m trying my best to look like I’m having fun. Because of all the bodies and the lack of ventilation, the heat inside is insane. I’ve worked up a decent sweat between dancing, shouting, and hanging on each other.
It’s made harder by the fact I’m not a rave person. I mean, people would say there’s no difference, but there is definitely a difference.
Everyone around me looks high on something or is seriously drunk, and I realize I’m starting to feel a little tipsy.
The girls are laughing when I disconnect from their group and slowly squeeze my way from the VIP dance floor back to the bar. It’s hot. I feel like I’m swaying a little and unsteady on my feet.
I lean on the bar and wait to get the bartender’s attention. I definitely feel like I’m getting out of control which will ruin my plan.
The bartender comes over, and I have to yell to be heard, “Two bottles of water and one glass with lots of ice, please.”
He nods and goes, and I casually lean against the bar, watching the girls dancing energetically, not so far away.
I need to sober up. I glance around as though I’m just admiring the crowd. Who was I looking for? Mateo!
I look around for any sign of him or people that would be near him, but I don’t see anything that gives him away.
I jump slightly when the bartender taps me on the right shoulder. I turn around and pay him for the water, adding a generous tip. I turn back to the dance floor and gulp down the water as though I’ve been parched for hours.
Juanita sees me and waves, beckoning me back onto the dance floor. I wave at her, motioning that I am staying by the bar. I see her talking to the girls, and they all frown. I drink more water as they maneuver their way back to me.
“What’s wrong?” Juanita yells near my ear, leaning close.
I wave a hand at my face. “I’m just feeling a bit hot and uneasy on my feet. I needed to take a moment to catch my breath. I’ll be fine now.”
I have no idea how much of that she caught or if I was loud enough, but she seems to have gotten the idea because she smiles.
“Oh! Is that all?” she yells, and I nod. She continues, “I could also take a moment. Why don’t we go outside and get some nice, cool, fresh air?”
The thought sounds absolutely amazing, so I down the rest of my water. I leave the glass on the bar and adjust my handbag. Juanita leads the way, with me second and our little gaggle of girls following behind.
We get out of the VIP section, and it’s just bodies pushing bodies in an acid-and-ecstasy-induced hype. I’m pushed back and forth and feel nauseous as a result. I try to call Juanita, but my head spins. I stumble and quickly catch myself. Luckily I’m near a wall, so I have one hand against it and the other on my spinning head, as though holding my brains from falling out of my forehead.
It sounds like the music of the rave is fading in and out, in and out. I am so dizzy. I feel like the world is moving back and forth underneath me, and Juanita comes to help me stay balanced.
“I’m not drunk that…” I slur, trying to tell her I’m not that drunk. My apparent friend and the other girls help as I stumble toward the front door. We go through the entrance to the outside, where the fresh air hits me hard, and I put a hand over my mouth.
I stand still and close my eyes for a moment to take a breath when suddenly the girls let me go, and a set of strong hands grab me. I blink open my eyes, but my vision is swimming.
A Mexican man is standing in front of me. I try to extract myself from his grasp, but he holds tight. I try to shake my head, but it makes me feel worse. I open my mouth to shout to the girls to help, but when I turn, I vaguely see them walking away, laughing and talking in Spanish as they return to the party.
Another set of hands is on me, and I hardly have any strength to attempt to pull away. I’m lifted, which worsens the motion sickness, and I realize I’ve been drugged.
I’m put in the back of a van that is completely blacked out, and I close my eyes, unable to fight the forced sleepiness.
The cold water that is thrown over me shocks me so much that I gasp, almost scream. I shiver uncontrollably in the icy room that I’m in. There are other women here, also drenched in water. Also shivering. I look down and realize I’m only in my underwear, and I immediately wrap my arms around my body, trying to shield myself. My arms are dragged apart, and I’m pulled over to a nearby wall where my hands are tied so I can’t escape. I’m on my tiptoes, dangling from the air. Goosebumps have erupted on my chilled body, and I can see my breath rise in front of me when I exhale. I yelp and squirm when an older woman starts to scrub me.
“Please! Please! Let me go! I’ll pay you handsomely. My father is rich.” I’m pleading with the woman, but she doesn’t respond.
“What is going on? Where am I?” I try to take on a more demanding, authoritative tone, “What is going on?”
The woman still doesn’t respond, and I try asking her the same question, only in Russian, and when she doesn’t respond, I switch to French -hoping that it’s just a language barrier.
Other girls cry softly around me as they are scrubbed. Still, the old woman doesn’t pay any attention to me. She roughly moves me around and scrubs me so hard it feels like my skin is on fire. I feel violated even more when she starts to dry me, touching me in the most intimate ways. I feel sick.
Once she’s done, a guard comes over and releases me from the bindings holding me in place.
I struggle to stand on my two feet, but he pushes me forward, and I try my best not to hit the floor. He’s forcing me out of the room to the next one, where there are piles of clothes. He nudges me and the clothes. I look around and see another girl resisting. The guard with her rips her underwear off and hits her in the face, and the older women start forcing her into the outfit.
I don’t want that. I reach for the dress, but the guard smacks my hand and smirks. “No underwear.”
He understands me, and I open my mouth, but he raises his hand as though to strike me, and I close it quickly. Feeling exposed, I slip out of my underwear and into the short, revealing dress.
I look at the guard and take the risk, asking, “What will happen to me? My father is a powerful man you don’t want to cross. You will regret not helping me.”
The guard’s laugh makes my blood run as cold as the water they tossed over me. He sighs and looks at me, his head tipped to the side. “We know of your father, Ivan. We’ve known about him for a long time. You see, we’ve been seeking a way to humiliate and defeat the head of the Bratva of New York City-a man who seemed not to have any weaknesses. We knew who you were from the start. Mateo Catalan swore his revenge against ‘The Bear’ years ago, which is just bringing him closer.” I swallow hard.
They knew from the beginning. I thought I had been playing Juanita, but she had been playing me the entire time. I shake my head. “He’ll pay you to let me go.”
“Mateo would pay me more to take you here right now. But you’re a virgin, as you’ve made it widely known, and therefore you are worth more in money than pleasure.”
He grabs my hands and drags me down a hallway. I still feel sick from being drugged, and my mind isn’t clear enough to make a plan to get me out of this situation.
I don’t think I can get out of this situation, and the more it dawns on me, the more panicked I feel.
The guard handcuffs me to a ring on the wall. Other girls are in front of me, all dressed like me and crying. I will never claim my family is perfect or saintly, but we don’t do this.
We don’t sell women at auction.
The guard looks at me and gives me this greasy smile. “Don’t worry, little princess. You’ll soon be with your new owner, and then you can learn what the underworld is really like.”
Luigi
I lift my head off my pillow as my phone buzzes on the docking station beside my bed. I grab it and answer, “Dom?”
“The invitations have been sent.”
I sit up. “Details?”
“You will introduce yourself as Brother Death, and you must be there within an hour. The auction will start soon after that, and they move quickly. You need to do this swift and clean. Password is Gimmick Pleaser.”
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll be there. Who do I have?”
“Clint and Toby, they are in the car downstairs waiting for you. They’re loyal and good guys. You can trust them. Toby will cause the distraction you need to get access to the politician. Do not hang around afterward. Killian Irving is Irish, and his claim to fame is his take-no-shit policy. He’s not some softy you can manhandle. You need to catch him off guard.”
“Dominic, I get it. We’ve been over this.” I’m up, with my phone on speakerphone so I can get dressed quickly. “The more you keep me on the line, the later I’ll be.”
“Let me know once it’s done.” He hangs up, and I can tell he’s annoyed at my insolence. I don’t know where it came from either, but he should treat me as a professional.
Dressed in no time, I go downstairs to find a car idling and waiting for me. I get in. “Toby. Clint. Nice to see you, gentlemen.”
“A pleasure to see you, sir. I’m Toby.” He reaches back, and I shake his hand.
“We need to get going,” I say. “The window of opportunity is small.”
“Understood,” Clint says. He’s clearly the less friendly one.
I think about the target, Killian. He has been out for a lot of mafia families’ blood. It’s no secret. There’s something about it, though, something about him, that screams hidden agenda. No one has been able to trace anything on him before his appearance as an aspiring politician over the last year.
All families are worried that this guy might have the balls to try them, maybe not succeed, but thrust them into a spotlight they keep themselves well hidden from.
I go over the plan repeatedly in my mind when I look up and catch Toby looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“What’s the question?” I ask.
“Just want to check you’re aware we’re going to have to throw in a few bids to look like we’re trying to win a girl,” he says. “Worse case, if we win her, we can give her a job at one of our family’s warehouses.”
“We’ll deal with it when we get there, but yes, I’ll be bidding.” I look out the window. My family is better known for drugs and stolen goods. I know Ivan’s family, some time ago, dealt with trafficking, but everyone associated with the Sorvino/Volkov unity has stepped away from that.
I expect us to get to some warehouse near the docks, but instead, we drive out to the more rural area. Clint is driving fast enough to save time but slow enough not to draw attention. We pull onto a massive plot of land with a large building. It looks like a barn, but I’m sure it’s outfitted differently inside.
Toby opens the car door for me, and I step out, buttoning my suit jacket. They follow me as I head toward the guard at the door.
“We need to search you.”
I stand with legs spread and arms out as the guard asks, “What is your code name, sir?”
“Brother Death,” I say calmly.
“What is your password?”
“Gimmick Pleaser,” I say, trying to maintain a deadpan expression like Frankie taught me.
“Your guards are permitted one handgun each per the rules, but you will be shot on-site if they reach for them unnecessarily inside.” He clicks his fingers. “My friend here will take you to your seats. Enjoy the auction.”
I don’t acknowledge him, following the other guard through the building. We’re taken into a large room, just as we’d assumed from the floor plan, and I take a seat. A young woman approaches me, and I wave my hand. “Whiskey. Neat.”
I hear a voice introducing the first lot, and I sigh softly. I don’t look around because I don’t want to raise suspicion, but I’m aware of the other buyers around me with their guards.
The auctioneer stands to the side, in front of a podium, and smiles with his arms open.
“Welcome, dear friends, to our next special auction. Mateo extends his greetings and assures you he has the finest goods, but tonight we have a lot that may be the best product we’ve ever auctioned.”
I feel, rather than see, buyers perk up slightly. “Of course, you are welcome to bid on as many lots as you want. The highest bidder will get to take their purchases immediately after the auction concludes.”
He motions to the door to his right, and we all watch as a girl is led out and stands in the center of the circle, a light shining down on her like a spotlight. She is made to turn in a circle so that everyone can see each side of her.
“Lot EN1988 is a bright thing of British origin. Used but in good working condition. Has a history of domestic work, landscaping and child care. Has born no children and has had no cosmetic surgery. The bid starts at fifty thousand dollars. Do I have fifty thousand dollars?”
A few people raise their hands, and the auctioneer starts increasing the amount, motioning to the various buyers who put their hands up to bid.
I look at the girl’s face. She looks scared but also lethargic. She’s clearly been drugged to make her more complacent or to stop her from trying to escape.
I raise my hand at the eighty-thousand mark, but someone outbids me. I shake my head when asked if I would put down a hundred thousand, and the auctioneer bangs his gavel and shouts, “Sold.”
The girl is escorted back through the same door. She’s crying and begging to be let go. Another girl is brought out. “Lot EE1990 is from Yugoslavia. No known family will look for her. Very flexible but not heavily used. No sign of childbirth, but the breasts are fake. We will start this bid at forty thousand.”
The bids start flying. I raise my hand once or twice, and finally, the guy to my right wins.
Another girl is brought out. Like the others, she is scared but drugged-looking. I am getting bored and glance slightly left to see Killian sitting three chairs away, and I nod to Toby.
“Final lot, RA1987 is one you’re all going to want to get your hands on.”
Everyone rumbles as the auctioneer pauses, then continues, “Ask yourself, how rare is a virgin princess these days? You heard correctly. We have a virgin princess that is worth her weight in gold. A little feisty, she will need a lot of discipline to learn her place, but we’re sure that she will be a quick learner. As a virgin, sexually, she will please you in ways you may not have experienced while also sending a message to her powerful, iron-fist ruling father.”
I raise an eyebrow and see everyone getting restless, “Without further ado, I present Lot RA1987.”
They escort a girl out the door, and the auctioneer says, “Bidding will start at half a million, with increments of a hundred thousand.”
As the young girl steps into the light, my eyes widen. Some people gasp while others murmur. I see out of the corner of my eye that Killian looks smug. In the guise of adjusting myself to sit up straighter, I signal to Toby that we need that distraction because the girl up for auction is my brother-in-law’s daughter.
Anastasia.