Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
How many has he told the same story to, manipulating them to be a part of it?
The room spins as pieces of the fucked-up puzzle begin to fall into place.
Sam, my own sister, who was raised by law-abiding, loving parents, recruits rich men from Othello to come join the elite society. Once they’re trusted and groomed enough to fit into this sordid world, they’re allowed to join the auctions, securing themselves a—who the fuck knows what they’re to be called. A slave? A sub?
And then there’s the other key player—Shawn, my husband. The man I held in the highest moral regard, who’s left his well-paying job at Usher and Gainsburg law firm to prey on vulnerable teens and young women, who may or may not be agreeable to be sold to the vile men Sam recruits.
I turn on my heel and vomit the champagne I’ve guzzled. My reaction to the atrocities goes unnoticed, the gathering too caught up in the motions going on in front of them.
The gavel sounds, signaling the end of another auction.
Shawn remains expressionless, completely numb to what he’s done.
How has my husband become such a monster?
How did I never notice?
I don’t ever recall any warning signs. Nothing ever stood out to me as being criminal or morally reproachable about him.
I take note of the winner, only because he creates such a raucous over his prize. This one is more like a slap to the face. The kind that riles my anger into retaliation. I see his profile and a part of me wants to laugh. I want to laugh at myself and the situation I fought against but could never win, because everyone in my life has worked together in royally fucking me over.
My bank manager, the same asshole who’s turned a blind eye to forged documents, hands over his auction details for his latest acquisition.
Is this what they call a golden handshake? I do something for you if you can repay me in other ways? A trade-off?
You sign off on my fraudulent mortgage documents and I’ll grant you access to pervert town where you can bid for girls to fuck your ugly face. Of course Mr. Burton would do anything for Shawn, even commit fraud, because he’s been given a spot at the helm. Their secret handshakes are something I can never compete with. Nor would I know how. Because I’m not a fucking disgusting human.
I’m overwhelmed and don’t know where to start. This nightmare is of the worst kind, and I feel the need to flee, my body slipping into flight mode. Simply standing here makes me feel dirty from the inside out, and tears of anger cloud my vision. I want to hurt all those in my life who have hurt me, but I’m shaking uncontrollably and not thinking straight. I turn to leave as the second girl I saw draped off Shawn at the club is escorted onto the stage. She appears much like the first, dazed and possibly drugged, but I can do nothing to help her because I’m stopped dead in my tracks, colliding with a hard chest wearing a suit. I tilt my face to meet his.
My game is up and, in all honesty, I’ll be thrilled if he throws me out onto the street. The look in his eyes tells me he has other plans. A firm and merciless hand wraps around my elbow, holding me in place.
“Big. Mistake.” Joseph’s red stubble scratches my cheek while he delivers his threat.
I attempt to pull away from his hold, but his fingers dig deep until an angry groan escapes my lips. “Let me—”
Before I can finish, Joseph hauls me across the room, and when we’re behind the privacy of the curtain, he throws me against the hard and unforgiving sandstone wall, his body pressed against mine restricting any movement.
“Get off me,” I seethe. I don’t give a fuck what situation I’ve found myself in, this dickhead has no right in manhandling me in such a way.
“You’re not in the position to be telling me what to do,” he snickers in reply. “Your curiosity has landed you in some very hot water.”
I chuckle in derision. “I somehow don’t think I’m the one going to be in hot water. Not after what I’ve just seen.”
His hand snakes around my throat squeezing until I feel lightheaded. I smile despite his threat. I know he won’t hurt me beyond what he’s doing. The asshole is simply trying to frighten me.
“You didn’t see anything, and it will serve you well to remember that.” While his threat is all too real, my biggest problem is not him. It’s why the hell my sister and husband are embroiled in human trafficking, and how I plan on extracting myself from the situation before the shit really hits the fan.