The moment I sauntered in, I spotted Skull, feeling a chill go down my spine. God, please don’t let him notice me. I couldn’t handle another altercation with the brutal bouncer. He’d already shaken me up enough the last time.
But he strode right toward me, stopping me before I could make my way to the changing rooms.
“What do you want?” I hissed, trying to remain calm.
“I want to…” He shifted his weight from one foot to another. The man looked nervous, his stubble growing in on his jaw like I’d never seen it do before. He also had a bruise that had swollen his right eye shut. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I stared in surprise. “For what?”
“For taking your cash,” he mumbled, pushing an envelope full of bank notes toward me. “It won’t happen again, you’ve got my word.”
“What?” I gave him a critical one-over. He really was in bad shape. “What’s happening here? Is this some kind of joke?”
“No,” he grunted, tight-lipped as I pocketed the cash. I needed it badly, and I wasn’t about to turn him down.
“Well, thanks,” I muttered. “It’s much appreciated, Skull.”
He nodded, sidestepping, and allowing me to pass. Just as I was almost out of earshot, he called out after me. “And good on you, Amicia. For making friends in high places.”
What the hell was he talking about?
***
Capri was waitressing when I walked into Le Cabaret. She kept sneaking glances at me. I knew as well as she did that the auction was that night. I’d already called and planned to be there, but I could still pull out at the last minute. But would I? First, I had a conversation with the boss I still had to sit through.
The boss of Le Cabaret was Pablo Capaldi, an Italian in his mid-fifties who was about as attracted to the dancers at the burlesque club as he was to a block of cheese. His boyfriend Marco lived with him in an expensive penthouse and had been leeching off him for years. Pablo himself was harmless, but Marco fed him dangerous ideas that often got the entire club in trouble.
I knocked on the door of Pablo’s office, and he called me in with a cheery voice. I walked into the room which was in its usual messy state. “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yes, Kitty,” he went on with a big grin. Another thing about Pablo—he never called us by our real names. “Come in, come in. Have a seat.”
He poured himself a glass of his favorite rum while I sat down in a seat facing his desk. “How can I help you, Pablo?”
“Ah, straight to business.” He grinned at me, readjusting his toupee. “I like that about you, Kitty, I like it very much.” He downed his glass in one go, wincing at the burn in his throat. “I’m sure you know you’re one of our most popular dancers, Kitty?”
“Your most popular one,” I corrected him, making him chuckle.
“Indeed, indeed, my dear. So, as you can imagine, you’re making us a lot of money. Lots of guests coming in to see you ‘specially. Lots of them ask for you every night. But we can only let you dance four nights a week at most. Gotta keep it a little exclusive, y’know?”
I nodded uncertainly. I didn’t like the overly friendly way in which he spoke. “What do you need from me, Pablo? I have somewhere to be, so get to the point, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, of course.” He slicked back his gelled fake hair and grinned at me again. “Well, I would like to promote you, Kitty.”
“Promote me?” I raised my brows. “How?”
“Well, there is a certain, ah, shall we say—demand—for you, Kitty. As I said, lots of interest. Lots.”
“Interest in private dances?” I interrupted. “Because I already told you, I’m not willing to do that.”
“No, not quite.” He gave me another one of his sleazy grins. “I want you to sleep with them.”
I saw red, but I kept my cool, narrowing my eyes at the seedy character in front of me. “Excuse me, Pablo?”
“You heard me.” His demeanor changed in an instant. He was no longer the friendly man who treated us like little outcast orphans. He was all business now, making it clear this wasn’t a choice. “I will pick the clients. You will sleep with them and receive a percentage of the money.”
“And if I decline?”
“Then today is your last day at Le Cabaret.”
I stood up, feeling so angry I thought I would burst. Pablo didn’t care though. He just stared at me with that leering smile, enjoying this rare moment of having power—over anyone but his little boy toy.
“Thank you, Pablo,” I hissed.
“I trust I’ll have your decision at your next shift,” he smirked at me.
“No,” I replied icily. “You can have it right now. Goodbye, Pablo.”
I slammed the door on the way out.
***
I’d gathered my things from the changing room when Capri came rushing in, glittery and pampered from the dance she’d just performed.
“Is it true?” she gasped when she saw me standing there with a pathetic cardboard box of my things. Being fired was the same at any job. It fucking sucked. “Did Pablo really fire you?”
“I fired myself,” I muttered, gathering the rest of my things, including my kitten masks. “I’m sorry, Capri.”
“Well, it’s his loss,” she said, shaking her head. “Letting the best one out of all of us go… What the hell was Pablo thinking?”
I shrugged, unwilling to come up with a clever response.
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” She looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “You’re coming tonight, aren’t you?”
“Shhh, Capri.” I gave her a warning look. “We shouldn’t talk about that here.”
“We have to,” she insisted. “I’m counting on you, Amicia. Please tell me you’ll be there.”
I swallowed, nervously glancing around the room. I had just effectively lost my only income. I had to find another job, and fast. Before my life ended up in tatters.
“I suppose I don’t have a choice,” I muttered to the sound of Capri’s excited squealing.
***
We met up in front of Le Cabaret once Capri’s shift ended. It felt strange seeing the place now that I didn’t work there anymore. I’d spent the rest of the evening wallowing the loss of a job I hadn’t even meant to stick with.
Capri rushed out of the building in her second-hand fur coat. As always, she looked fabulous and she pulled me in for a hug, kissing my cheek as she whispered, “Are you excited?”
“Not the word I’d use,” I muttered as she linked her arm with mine. “So, how reputable is this place?”
“I know a girl who’s done it before. She auctioned her first time trying… you know.” She winked at me, making me pale. “From behind? She got a hundred fifty grand from it.”
“That’s horrible,” I muttered. “And perverted.”
“Then why are you doing it?” Capri questioned me.
“Because I need the money.”
“Don’t we all.”
We made our way to the auction house which was in the Notting Hill area. The house was a historical building, and we were patted down before being allowed to enter. Once in there, our names were written down and we were ushered into a large communal shower and ordered to strip naked.
I felt humiliated, but there was nothing to be done. I had to go through with it, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t been naked around other people before.
Capri and I scrubbed down before we were shown to the waxing room. The name alone made me wince, but it was nothing compared to the rough hands of the Russian women who waxed us bare, as rough as if they had a personal vendetta against us. Then, we were rubbed down with oil, our hair styled, and our makeup done.
Finally, a bored-looking man presented us with a contract each, the papers a mile long. I gave Capri a worried look, but the blonde had already scribbled her signature.
“Capri!”
“What?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already m
ade up my mind.”
I went through the pages painstakingly, obviously annoying the guy watching us until he was tapping his foot so loud, I just went to the last page, flushing as I wrote down my name on the dotted line.
“Good,” he said, snatching the papers away from me. “About damn time. Now get in line. You’ll be up soon.”
I was too shocked to reply, and Capri and I were ushered to a line of girls waiting in the backstage. We’d been dressed in pink silk robes and nothing else, with a pair of heels on our feet. Capri looked beautiful, and from the jealous looks of the other girls, I assumed I looked good as well.
"Amicia Romano, you're up next."
My knees nearly gave out as I stood up. I tried to find Capri behind me, but it was too late. Someone shoved me from behind, and I stumbled onto the stage, shattering the first impression I'd wanted to make. Snickers and chuckling followed me as I made my way to the front of the stage, my cheeks burning brighter than any Christmas tree.
"She's twenty-two years old," the auctioneer read off his notepad, raising his brows at the lack of information on it as I took in the room before me. It was like a theater, with about sixty people watching me move on the stage. "No college degree, just a high school diploma. Well, how disappointing." He took a long, leering look at me, adding, "Though her looks almost make up for it, don't you think?"
I glared at him, but he paid it no mind, ordering me to strip on the stage. Though I'd known it was coming, my cheeks were alight with embarrassment as I pulled the belt off my silky pink robe. The crowd stared, the bright lights above me blinding as I slowly slid the robe over my shoulders.
This is what I was good at—it's why I'd wanted to be a dancer my entire life. I had the presence, the mysterious je-ne-sais-quoi so many others were missing. And I believed in myself passionately, despite the entire world attempting to convince me that I wasn't good enough.
It was why I was standing on that stage, after all. To be sold to the highest bidder. To receive money in exchange for my body. It would make all my dreams come true.
My body swayed to the sound of music only I could hear. Through the bright stage lights, my gaze flitted from one person in the audience to the next, trying to find a face to settle on. They were all men—older, suited-up men with unforgiving faces and hungry eyes devouring my now naked body. My hands slid down the generous curve of my waist, fingertips gliding over silky soft skin. Just then, my eyes zeroed in on a man in the third row, wearing a grey pinstripe suit with a black shirt and a black tie underneath.
His dark gaze was enough to make me stop for a single second, frozen by the weight of his stare. He was handsome in a cruel way, all sharp lines and the dark shadow of stubble that never quite went away. Dark salt-and-pepper streaked hair was slicked back, shaved closely on the sides and longer on top. He was devilishly handsome. And he screamed danger.
The robe fell to my feet as the audience watched, mesmerized. I danced for the man watching me and no one else. My body twisted and turned for him, my eyes glued to his as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
He raised his paddle.
Every person's head snapped toward him.
"A hundred thousand," he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
"A hundred thousand!" the auctioneer repeated. "Do we have a higher bid?"
"Hundred fifty!" someone yelled from the crowd as I stood shivering in front of them. I was eager to cover up, my hands trembling, needing to retain some dignity. But I forced myself to keep my hands crossed at the wrists behind my back.
"Two hundred thousand." The handsome man was still staring at me, his eyes devouring my body.
"Three hundred," came the bid from a third man.
"Five hundred thousand."
The crowd gasped at the amount of money, but the stranger I'd fixated on wore a cool, unforgiving smile. He was in this to win it, and something told me he wasn't used to losing.
The bids kept coming. Finally, there were two men left bidding for me, the numbers getting closer and closer to one million dollars. I would get ten percent of that money. It was shocking how little they were willing to let me have, but to me, that amount of money was life changing.
"Seven hundred fifty thousand pounds."
The crowd wasn't even muttering anymore, they were whooping, cheering the handsome man on. The other man, an older guy in his fifties with a head of thick silver hair, grimaced and shook his head.
"Seven hundred fifty going once," the auctioneer spoke up. "Seven fifty going twice. Sold, to the highest bidder!"
My legs nearly gave out as I picked my robe off the floor. With my cheeks burning, I didn't dare look at the man who'd just spent a fortune for a single night with me. I wondered whether he knew the small amount of money I'd receive from the sale. I wondered whether he cared.
I slid the robe back on my shoulders and made my way into the backstage, where the next girl was already being prepped. I was in a daze, barely aware of my surroundings as I was escorted to the changing room. Before the auction began, they told us we'd be allowed an hour to prepare for our night with the highest bidder, but now, a rattled woman with a clipboard in her hands ran toward me, knitting her brows together.
"We need you in front of the building now," she barked at me.
"What? I was told I'd have an hour to get ready."
She fixed her headset and shook her head. "Mr. Kline wants you right now. There's no time for that. Tie up your robe and follow me."
With shaky hands, I redid the bow at my hip, covering up my body with the pink silk as I followed the woman outside. It was December first, and as I stepped into the chilly winter night, I trembled from the cool air and the hint of snow in the icy air.
A limousine was waiting in front of the building, and the woman wielding the clipboard ran toward it now, clicking her high heels. I followed behind, struggling in the ten-inch stilettos I'd been told to wear for the auction. My heart was pounding as I stumbled, the woman waving me over impatiently. "Come on now, hurry! No dillydallying."
I managed to make it to the car, my heels slipping on the ice-covered road.
"Wish me luck," I muttered to the woman. In response, she merely gave me a you-do-not-amuse-me look, opened the door, and ushered me into the dark interior of the black limousine.
I got into the car, and the moment I sat down, the vehicle pulled away from the curb, making my heart race in expectation. The interior was all smooth, buttery black leather and tinted windows. I fumbled around for the seatbelt when the dark voice I'd remembered from the auction spoke up.
"Leave it."
I looked around, finally spotting a dark shape materializing in the seat opposite mine. We were separated by three feet of space, yet his presence still made me feel a chill right down to my bones.
"But, it's safer to... I just wanted—"
"Leave it," he repeated, firmer this time. "Quintus is a driver with decades of experience. We won't be in danger with him."
I nodded weakly before placing my hands in my lap, staring at the spot where the voice was coming from. He was still hidden in the shadows, but as we pulled out of the parking house attached to the auction building, his handsome profile came into view, rendering me speechless.
He was handsome. Dangerously handsome.
He didn't look at me, instead focusing his gaze on the cityscape of London as we drove away from it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, though. I was mesmerized.
“Why did you want me to come with you right away?” I demanded.
“I saw you,” he answered simply. “I didn’t want to wait.”
“Are you…” I bit my lower lip. So many questions were on the tip of my tongue, yet I was too nervous to ask.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged me with a sly smirk.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I blurted out.
He pondered my question for a moment, before nodding once, saying, “Yes. But you’ll be rewarded handsomely for it.”
; “The payment I’m getting is meager compared to what you paid,” I muttered.
“I’m not talking about that.” His voice was sexy, dark and dangerous. And it was doing things to my insides I didn’t want to admit.
“What then?”
“I’m talking about another offer, from me to you, Kitty.”
My skin prickled when he used my nickname for Le Cabaret. “Do we know each other?”
“We will soon,” he answered cryptically.
I reached over to the car door and opened it. He called out my nickname and lunged for me, dragging me back into the vehicle and slamming the door shut. My heart beat faster than ever as he held me in his arms.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.
“Saving you from your own stupidity,” he scoffed, letting go of me. I retreated to my seat, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. He buckled me in himself then, careful not to touch me as he slid the seatbelt over my body.
For the next few minutes, he allowed me to stare sullenly out of the window. I had so many more questions. I needed to know what he’d meant by the offer he mentioned.
"What is your offer?" My voice was shaky as I delivered the question.
"I knew you’d ask soon enough. Well, Kitty, I'm not an evil man," Grayson told me, a wicked smirk taking over his handsome face. "I am a cruel one. I am offering you half of the money I paid for you today.”
"Three hundred and seventy-five thousand?" I tried not to show my own shock as he nodded.
"That's right."
"What do I have to do for it?" Couture House was only paying me seventy-five thousand quid. It was breadcrumbs compared to the money this man was putting on the table.
"I don't want one night with you, Amicia." He reached forward, his fingers taking my chin and making me look up at him. My breath catches in my throat, waiting for his next words. "I want twenty-four of them."
"What d-do you mean?" I hadn't meant to stutter, but I was feeling weak in his presence.
"I want you to be my willing captive for twenty-four days, and twenty-four nights. You'll begin today, December first. By Christmas morning, you'll be free."
Christmas Captive: A Holiday Romance Page 5