Description
She's terrified of me. She should be.
I'm no saint, but apparently even killers have limits. When the Bratva hired me as security for the night, I didn't know it was a flesh trade. I could have kept my cool, done my job, but then I saw her. Pure as a lily, dressed in skimpy lingerie, and being auctioned off to the foulest men in Brighton Beach.
I'm not used to this white knight sh*t, but I did what I had to do. I outbid those pieces of trash and bought myself a bride.
What the hell do I do with a sweet, subservient woman who's been trained to obey her husband? I can think of some things my baser instincts want me to do... But when she submits to me, I'm going to be the man that deserves it, not just the one she owes it to. So I'm going to make her life better. I'm going to make her want me just as bad as I want her.
And at night, when my new princess is slumbering, I'm going to make every one of those pimps pay in blood. I will protect her... and our unborn baby.
Read Sold to the Hitman Today!
Teaser…
She stands out from the rest of the women on stage like a ray of warm sunshine. Clad in nothing but a simple white bra and panties, her knees are turned inward as she uses her placard, #7, as if trying to hide behind it. Her luminous blue eyes are full of fear they should never be exposed to, and two blonde braids hang over her shoulders, gracing pale skin that’s pure as porcelain. She’s small and fragile-looking, even more so than the others on stage, like a doll being held up before a pack of wolves.
She’s the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.
“And here,” Oskar says as he reaches her, taking her by the arm and dragging her in front of the other girls, snapping me out of the trance I’d been in gazing at her, “here we have a real gem from the north part of our very own state! Azure eyes, golden hair, and a body you can toss around the bed as long as she lasts!”
Hearing Oskar talk about that angel as he did makes me forget my post. I stride forward, pushing past some of the crowd as easily as if I were wading through tall grass. I want to get up on stage and throttle him, but I notice Sergei and his friends up front, and I use every ounce of my strength to restrain myself.
“She’s domestically trained, a true angel of the house,” he croons, stalking around her like a demon as she shrinks away from him. “Never so much as felt a man’s touch before, and the only condition of this perfect servant being yours and yours alone is a wedding ring! That’s right, gentleman, the highest bidder gets this little doll sent away to her parents for a few days to get dressed and groomed for you and nobody else, for life!”
The men go wild, obviously ravenous with lust, and I can see a few of the more affluent-looking men looking poised, ready to pounce. For many of them, I realize, this woman would be the deal of a lifetime — a perfect wife to legitimize their images, and one who won’t pry or ask questions, either.
Oskar moves through the other women, but I can already hear men around me chattering over #7.
“I’ll deflower that pretty little rose.”
“Not like my kid’s going to college, I’d cough up those funds to fuck that little bitch!”
“Looks kinda like my daughter, gimme a piece of that ass to tear up!”
The poor girl looks absolutely terrified, her eyes flitting from man to man as they shout at her, and she tries to back away, but Oskar casts her a dark look, and she bites her lip nervously, knees shaking.
“Hey! Hey, #7! Want a real man to help you stretch those pretty lips of yours?”
The last man at my right makes me forget my restraint, and I turn to grab him by the scruff of his neck, taking him off-guard and terrifying him as I pulled him close to me, about to knock him to the ground when Oskar’s voice boomed.
“Alright, boys, alright settle down! You’ve seen the ladies, now let’s see the offers! Start the bidding!”
Both of us were distracted by the shouts we started hearing from around us, and I dropped the man to listen.
“Gimme #7! Fifty thousand!” cried a desperate-looking man who looked like he could barely afford the counterfeit watch around his wrist.
“Our first bidder in at fifty grand,” Oskar shouted, and two-thirds of the crowd groaned at the lowball offer. Most girls can net over a hundred thousand a year as a sex slave, wedding ring or no.
“Seventy-five!” shouted a man wearing a high-collared coat and wide-brimmed hat as not to be seen. The girl is looking at each bidder in alarm. The poor woman has probably never even faced a date with a man, much less this animalistic show.
“One-fifty,” comes the calm, firm voice of an older man in a tailored Armani suit.
“One seventy-five,” cries another man I recognize as a human trafficker. I can’t let this go on any longer. Any of the men in this room bidding at this threshold are with the likes of criminals too wealthy to know kindness anymore. They’re not buying her for their own pleasure, and I know what this is going to lead to. The wealthy men in fine outfits are no less crude than the mongrels that were jeering at her earlier — they only have the power to go through with those words.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I muscle my way to the front of the stage and shout out an offer.
“Three-hundred thousand!”
I’ve only felt that many eyes turn to me a couple of other times in my life, and never with such hostility. Even Oskar seemed stunned for a moment, stammering before echoing my offer.
“Th-three hundred from the man in black! Finally, we’re getting some real offers on the go!”
“Three-fifty,” came a bark from a new voice, and I looked over to see Sergei’s wealthy young Chechnyan standing up for the bid. Sergei was giving me a warning look, but I wasn’t in the mood to be jerked around by him tonight. I looked up at the stage and glared Oskar in the eye.
“Six hundred.” A few moments of silence pass, and I can feel stunned eyes on me all around the room, including one from the young lady I’d just bid several men’s lives’ worth of work on.
Every time the Chechnyan bid, I upped the ante. I couldn’t believe it, not with how my boss kept staring daggers at me. I was cutting off my source of income while at the same time laying down months of hard, dangerous work.
And then, a half-dozen bids later, they’re defeated.
“We have a winner at one point six million! And yes, this is in American!” Oskar nearly splutters when it was clear nobody dared outbid me. “This young lady is all yours, my good man! Meet the boys out front to settle the details, aaaaand we’re off to a rolling start! Now then, we still have nine lovely ladies who…”
I turn and push my way towards the stairs as Oskar starts to drone on with the rest of the auction, my heart still pounding furiously.
Did I really just drop over one-and-a-half-million dollars on that woman?