Beautiful Beast: Part 1 of 3

by Jenn Marlow

  When the time was right, she instructed Holly to be the bearer of bad news. She had to tell him that his sister was gone and wouldn’t return for a minimum of three years. Alex knew that even though it wasn’t her only choice, it was her best choice. It was the choice that made the most sense to her, an easy way to make all the money she ever needed in a short period of time. What was three years? Not a damn thing in comparison to a lifetime.

  She remembered it well, and she would for an eternity, the moment she—without a shadow of doubt—decided to sell herself to the ring. It was as soon as she saw the look on Denny’s face when he looked at Iris. It was in that sincere, innocent little look that she knew everything she needed to know.

  His eyes had sparkled, and though it was dark in the room, she could see them glimmer as he looked up at the young girl from his hospital bed. Alex remembered the lump in her throat, as she watched the girl look down at him with the same goofy look. She saw them, as they smiled at one another, and her heart skipped a beat when the girl took it upon herself to grab his hand. It nearly stopped completely when she began caressing it with loving tenderness.

  It was then that she decided. Love. Love decided it; it wasn’t just the love that Alex possessed for her brother, and it wasn’t the love he had for Iris, or even the love she had for him. It was the fact that Denny had found love. It was the fact that no matter what happened with his relationship with Iris, that he was capable of finding and having love. It was the fact that he deserved to grow and evolve as a man and have his grow and evolve alongside him.

  It wasn’t necessarily Denny and Iris’s love that decided her fate. It was the unknown; it was the fact that Denny could have love more than just from her. It was that Denny could have a future with a woman, and he deserved it. He deserved a future period. But he for damn sure deserved a future with love, romance, and family.

  So it was then that she exchanged pleasantries long enough to leave the hospital and finger at the business card for an entire hour before she finally found the courage to dial the number. She remembered the voice on the other end of the phone. It was dark and slick, and she could tell he was a smooth talker. Although he sounded mean and coarse, they had arranged a meeting.

  And here she was, waiting for that meeting. She sat patiently, alone at a table outside a beautiful little bistro. For something so unconventionally abnormal, she agreed to him at a very traditional and normal place. A restaurant. A nice one at that. The sun shined brightly and hung high in the sky. It was noon, lunch time, and she sat at one of the five outside tables in the front of the bistro, waiting.

  The perfect little red tablecloths gave each small two-seater table an extra level of class and sophistication. It was dressed with the most beautiful water glasses she had ever seen; it appeared as if it was a wide-set crystal goblet with a short one-inch twisted stem. She would have loved to have some of those for her own house, but she knew she didn’t have an occasion to use them.

  It was sad, really. She never entertained; she didn’t have a reason for it. Hell, she wasn’t even able to be entertained herself, let alone entertain others. She eyed the bundles of baby’s breath which lay gorgeously atop the red table cloth. She touched the flowers and smiled. Of course their meeting would be at a place such as this. She knew—without even looking—that this place was probably far out of her price range.

  The breeze blew a across her body. The tingly feel of the wind began to soothe her abundant mess of nerves. She had no idea what she was doing and why she had sought this out.

  She knew that she could act like many other women and act like she didn’t have a choice in the matter, but she knew she did. The birds chirped; and Alex envied them. They were free, lovely, and graceful—and better yet—their voices carried nothing but beauty and serenity, and her ears always perked at the sound. And now, as she heard their singing tunes, she felt her bundled nerves ease even more.

  It wasn’t long that she sat as a loner at the table before she saw a globular squash-shaped man appear, pummeling directly towards her. It was odd that he knew who she was, but then again, she knew it was him. Terrence had detailed small tidbits of a profile that seemed to match perfectly to the man she saw aimed towards her.

  He was a man of large girth and a stern face. Though he was bulbous in stature and had cheeks made of soft jelly, he looked coarse and cruel. It was fitting, based on his reputation, but even if Alex hadn’t known of his secrets, she would have only had to take a single look at him to know that he wasn’t a good man.

  He stood average in height, with obviously dyed jet-black hair. He looked almost demonic, and that imagery was further proven by his facial hair. He possessed a devilish thin goatee and long side burns that were intentionally shaped into a razor-point edge. His attire even represented the beast that he was.

  Greed and gluttony would have been this man’s deadly sin, and the suit he wore to their meeting seemed to denote it perfectly. The garment was obviously expensive, tailored without fault and most likely custom designed. It was white with silver stitching down the lapel, at the hems of the shoulder and wrists, and even on the button holes; and the buttons themselves were also the same strikingly beautiful shiny metallic color.

  His ensemble was neat, indeed, and it didn’t stop at the suit. He wore a metallic pink dress shirt and a silver blue tie. Every stitch on every piece was pristine and without fault. She wondered if he had an employee designated specifically to his wardrobe. He would have to have someone care for such clothing all day every day for them to look in that order. Because, by all standards, he looked like a celebrity.

  When he sat, the chair creaked beneath him and his gut pushed the table towards her with a harsh sliding sound against the concrete slab beneath them. When he sat, she felt intimidated, which wasn’t easy with her. And then he smiled, and she felt her spine crawl with discomfort.

  “So I understand you are interested in what we do; and possibly may be interested in signing a contract, hm?” he asked, in the same dark and slick voice that he had on the phone.

  She nodded in response, and just as she was about to ask some much needed questions, he pulled out a leather-bound folder. He grinned menacingly and began to unwind the leather string that enclosed the folder. “First of all, let me just start out by telling you a little bit about what is going to happen,” he began. The words sounded rehearsed, and she knew that he had pitched these same sentences likely hundreds—if not thousands—of times before.

  “We find the clients. They’re all considered high-class citizens and go through extensive background checks before we even consider inviting them. And yes, all auctions are by invitation-only. Each of these gentlemen is worth millions of dollars.” He sat back in his chair, pushing out his gut a little more. The table moved another quarter of an inch when he did so, and she wondered if he noticed or was embarrassed at all by his enormous girth.

  “We have quite a lengthy list compiled for buyers; and each buyer has a list of specific requirements for his woman. At the end of every quarter, an auction is had and I round up the women I have recruited, catering to my clients based upon their specific needs and wants. You will be involved in only one auction, and it will be an auction based around a specific type of woman as requested by the clients in attendance.” He sat forward again, and his breath began to escape a little more heavily. She wondered if speaking had caused him to lose his breath, or if it was the fact that he kept adjusting in his seat. Regardless, if she hadn’t been so clearly disgusted by his personality and overall being, she would have been disgusted with his health.

  “But, something tells me if you didn’t know what this entailed, you wouldn’t have called me. You seem pretty resourceful. I’m sure you’ve done your homework. So if you’d like some time to look over the contract—”

  “Contract? It can’t be legal, can it?” she interrupted, feeling confused.

  “Not in traditional standards, no.” He leaned forward, his fat nose flared and his e
yes were set. “Our—your and my—contract is legally binding. It states that for the duration of your employment, you—or a beneficiary named by you—will be compensated for the amount agreed upon.”

  “What’s the amount?” she interrupted.

  “Did I not just mention the auction? You will be auctioned off. The auction will determine how much payment you receive for the duration of your contract. It will be far more than you make now; so no worries, dear girl.” He laughed and sat back in his chair, his fat belly causing the table to creak again as it rubbed along the metal edge. It looked as though the table was threatening to push into her once again. Fat fuck, she thought cruelly.

  “I need you to focus though. The contract between he and I is also legal, but the one between the two of you is not. However, we have our own matters of law and order if you betray your contract with the winner of the auction, the winner of you…your master. I will not leave it to the courts to decide your fate. Don’t test the contract. Don’t sign unless you’re sure you can handle it. I have put down far more important people than a local small-town stripper. You understand?”

  She heeded his warning, but her mind was already made up. She was going to sign the fucking piece of paper; and as she ripped the page from the folder and signed it with a few loops of the pen, she realized what she had done. She had signed over her rights to a leech like Gresky; and it felt very similar to selling her soul to the devil. He was the devil, after all. Or at least, he seemed like the human carnation of him.

  “I commend how sure you are, young lady,” he praised. And that was it. Their meeting was over, and Alex was no longer free.

  Chapter 9

  “Sold!” Mr. Gresky called into the microphone. They were on a stage in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. Alex wanted to cry; she couldn’t believe she was now someone’s property. It was almost overwhelming until she remembered why she did it in the first place. She knew it was a choice, but now she knew why women often made it seem as if their actions weren’t choices. Because even though it was a choice, it didn’t seem like one. It was the best option for the amount of money that she needed, and therefore it didn’t really seem like a choice anymore. She knew it was one, but it did not feel like one.

  She strained her neck to see who purchased her, but she didn’t see anything. As she peered off the warehouse stage and into the crowd, all she could see was the winning red ticket in the middle of the room.

  That’s what her life had just been reduced to, a red ticket in the middle of a crowded room, a room full of perverted men with crazy sexual complexes. Her mind wandered all over the place, and she wondered if they had mommy issues. They’d have to have some sort of crazy issues if they were willing to buy another human being, much less buy them for their own sexual pleasure. She just hoped that she wouldn’t get a total monster.

  No matter though, Alex knew she’d be herself; and herself was an asshole. She didn’t care if she was beaten, bruised, or whatever—as long as they paid Denny. That’s all that mattered.

  And then she saw the crowd disperse just enough to be separated into two almost identical groups. It was like the people were the Red Sea, and whomever won her was Moses. They were clearing a path for him to walk through and claim his prize.

  She strained her neck again; she had to know, as the anticipation was killing her; and then she saw him. He was young—probably in his late twenties to early thirties and a little taller than average height. He was lean and muscular in appearance with the same chestnut brown hair that her own hair possessed. It was short in length and what little length he did have was combed back with pomade to hold it in place. His jaw was square and strong, and when he got nearer she noticed his eyes were dark, darker than she had ever seen. They were so dark, in fact, that they were closer to jet black.

  He was handsome; she had to admit. She couldn’t for the life of her understand why someone as gorgeous as he was would possibly have to buy someone for sexual companionship. He looked like a model; it was likely that he would have no issue getting women into bed. Unless, she thought with sincere horror, there was something much more deeply wrong with him.

  What if he was a serial killer? She knew that they were often personable and attractive. What if he was completely mentally fucked up? And then it hit her. What had she done? The sort of man that bought women for slavery was not the type of man who one wanted to coexist with him. And now she was contracted to not only share a bed with the man but to share a house with him for three years.

  “Come with me,” he said distantly, before grabbing her forearm harshly and pulling her with him back through the crowd. She tried to tear her arm away from him, but he only gripped her tighter. His fingernails bore into her flesh with the intensity of a hot knife. She cried out from the pain, but he ignored it.

  She wasn’t sure if he knew she was in pain, or if he just couldn’t hear her cries over the loudness of the crowd. Regardless though, she had stiffened up and struggled away from his grasp. He should have known; and he probably did. Then, her fears struck at her once more as she felt a lump form in her throat. Was he going to kill her?

  They continued to fight against each other like opposing forces in physics, hitting others in their path as they went, until he finally pulled her through the last few people in the crowd. She noticed the large steel door of the warehouse and watched him with tears in her eyes as he pulled it open. He was taking her somewhere; and she was terrified to find out where.

  The sun struck against her with harshness, and she felt almost scorched by it. Her eyes hadn’t yet had time to adjust and her sight was blurred, her eyes burning from the excess light. “Get in,” she heard him demand impatiently.

  She squinted so that she could see, but she just barely made out the outline of a black car parked directly in front of them. She reached her hand out and touched it, hoping that somehow if she touched it that it might improve her vision; that maybe the car would come into sight.

  But it didn’t. The light was too bright and her eyes burned so bad that she had to close them. “Jesus,” he snapped with frustration before she felt his hand on the small of her back. He was guiding her to the door of the car. And then Alex had a slight realization; maybe her eyes weren’t adjusting properly because she knew that this had been a bad decision. She was about to get into a car with a complete stranger. Not only any stranger, but the stranger who now owned her, the stranger that she knew couldn’t be good.

  She heard the sound of a car door being opened, and she felt like she was being kidnapped as he slowly guided her into the car. He pushed her head down roughly so that she was hunkered just enough to clear the top of the car and then pushed her so that she fell into the seat. She could tell it was the back seat, and she immediately knew that the situation held very close similarities to kidnapping stories.

  “I’m being fucking kidnapped,” she said, not even able to suppress her bitchy-outspokenness to a likely serial killer. “A fucking serial killer is kidnapping me when I can’t even see.”

  And there it was.

  Fuck.

  She felt like an idiot, but then she heard him chuckle before the motion of the car set in. “Wow, a feisty one…” he trailed, obviously amused. “That could be a good thing.”

  And then she didn’t have anything else to say.

  Neither did he.

  The entire car ride was enveloped in a tense silence and though her vision had returned, she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to know how far away from the city they were going, how far away from Denny she was going. She didn’t care; it didn’t matter. She had already signed away her life, and she knew that for three years she wouldn’t be allowed contact with her brother.

  Holly would have to be his sister now.

  Holly would have to care for him.

  She would have to be there for him, just as she had been for Alex for so many years.

  Alex had faith that she could do it. In all of her glory, no matter how outwardl
y idiotic and no matter how much of a ditzy floozy she was, Holly was a good and genuine person. Holly cared, and she loved Denny. Alex was sure she would be great. Hell, probably even better than Alex was herself.

  It felt like a lifetime before the car came to a stop and when it did, her eyes shot open immediately. She had to see where a rich prick like this would live. And a rich prick he definitely was, because when her eyes befell his home, her mouth fell open in shock. It looked like a fucking castle, and not only that but the only house she could see looked like half a mile at least in distance. The land was flat, but pretty; and she could see far away. The limit of her vision was where she happened to see one singular house very similar to the one only a few feet away from her.

  He parked directly in front of the house, within a circular drive, obviously so that she could see it and swoon at the luxurious stone mansion. She was impressed with the house itself, she’d admit, but she was far from swooning. Any man that proud of his home that he thought it was all it took to seal the deal was even further gone than she had already thought.

  They still didn’t speak. He got out of the car without hesitation—just shot out like a fucking cannon—and in one swift motion, he ended up opening her door for her. It was like he was the chauffeur, and she was the rich bitch who lived in the mansion. But she knew it was all an act; she knew he was putting on a show—and she saw right past it.

  She rolled her eyes, lifted herself out of the car, and took a look around. His garage was to the right, and she could tell that it was likely able to fit eight to ten vehicles, a little bit overkill in her opinion. How many cars did someone need?

  The black car they arrived in was likely usually used for a servant that drove him around. With a garage like that and the ability to choose any car from it, her point was only driven home further. He chose the chauffeur’s car. He wanted to implant some ridiculous fucking idea that she somehow was lucky to be there; that his world was now her world. “Before we go inside, I need your cell phone,” he said without missing a beat.