The takeover

Livia’s POV

This is the most barbaric thing I have ever witnessed, and worse I’m the piece of meat on display. I open my eyes and like a scene straight out of some Neanderthal, slavery era movie, the first man raises his card and the auctioneer hoots.

“There! I see a hundred million. Do we have two hundred?”

In the white flowing gown under the glare of the spotlight, I might as well be naked and I resist the urge to smooth away the gooseflesh rising on my arms. Another man raises his hand and the auctioneer claps dramatically.

“We have two hundred from the gentleman at the back. Do I hear three hundred?”

There is no way this is legal. Even though I know I am powerless, my mind screams with indignation and I suppress the urge to run for the nearest police station. Even if I could get there without these goons hauling me back, something tells me even the police won’t save me, Rafe Lennox is a local terrorist and rumors say that he has the police on a payroll. And even if I’m able to get to the police, am I not also a culprit thanks to the document I signed earlier? As far as that measly piece of paper is involved, I’m a very willing participant. I’ll go to prison with whoever Rafe Lennox chooses to take the fall and then what happens to Mum? To Noni and Sofia?

“Three hundred.” I hear someone say and I snap out of my depreciating musings and lock eyes with the thick, bald man on the front row that just offered three hundred.

My heart lodges in my throat and my skin dampens with fear when I see him. At first glance, he looks like every other brute in the room, just tougher.

Tattoos are inked all over his bald head, fanning down to his brows and the corner of his eyes. Even sitting, there is an aura of wrongness that permeates the air around him, evident by the wide berth the others have given his table but it is his eyes that send a cold finger of fear down my spine. Cold and inhuman, they remind me of a reptile’s and those eyes are sizing me up, promising dark things my mind refuses to think of. Instinctively, I know this is the last man I want to buy me today.

He licks his lips as if he can taste my fear on his tongue and smiles, revealing teeth dyed a solid black. I suppress a shudder of revulsion.

“We have three hundred from Silas! Do I hear four hundred?”

My breath hitches in my throat and my ear rings. Silas Wren? The same man that the lady warned me about? Pieces of conversation I didn’t pay attention to in that waiting room come unbidden, the ladies whispering about a sadistic billionaire that tortures the girls he buys to death. There is no doubt in my mind that it’s him and if I go with him this evening, I’ll be leaving him in a body bag.

I break eye contact, breathing hard and the edges of my vision darken with panic. I look around the room wildly but no rescue is forthcoming, I’m so fucked.

There is a four hundred dollars, and then a five hundred, after which the auctioneer starts increasing the bid by five hundred and each time, Silas Wren tops the bids. Dread settles heavy on my stomach and sweat slides down my back as I watch the proceedings become heated. The bidders have dropped to two now, Silas and an overweight bidder at the back. I clasp my shaking hands together and pray hard that the overweight man doesn’t relent. I don’t even care that I’m being bought, I’ll be good and obedient to him as long as he saves me from Silas.

“Twenty five million.” Silas hisses and the room goes silent, the air tense as hell. I can see Rafe Lennox salivating from his seat, he thought I would fetch a million but obviously he also never dreamed the bid would rise to twenty five.

“Please.” I plead silently as I stare at the overweight man who looks piss-drunk. In fact, I suspect the only reason he has matched the bid so far is because he is too far drunk for sensible reasoning and I beg whatever powers are listening tonight that he doesn’t get tired. He frowns and my prayers have the opposite effect because he humphs and motions for more beer.

“Is her coochie made of gold? Let him take her!” He declares loudly and everyone laughs.

Silas looks like he is one moment from leaping from his seat and strangling the fat man but he finally relaxes back, a small smile playing on his lips as our eyes meet again. I’m dead, I realize. Fear dries my tongue and I press a hand to my heart to keep it from pounding right out of my chest. I was so stupid to sign that contract and soon I’ll be too dead to be stupid.

“We have the highest bid at twenty five million dollars!” The auctioneer roars. “Do I hear thirty?”

It’s just silence. I sway a little and catch myself on one knee, so dizzy with horror that I don’t even register the pain.

“This beautiful, untouched gem will be sold to Silas Wren if I don’t have a higher bid. Going in one… two…”

My eyes find the lady that warned me where she kneels at the foot of her new owner and a little flash of sadness and sympathy passes over her eyes before she lowers them.

The auctioneer smiles. “Thr-“

A loud bang of the heavy double doors interrupts him and the night chill rushes in. But even the cold night air has nothing on the tall imposing figure that crosses the room in long purposeful strides. My jaw drops and I’m sure I must be dreaming, or delirious.

The stranger is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His face is all hard planes, his jaw hard as granite. His white shirt stretches over a body that looks like he spends every spare second in the gym, the rolled up sleeves revealing biceps I have no business ogling. He looks like an avenging angel, silent, massive and terrifying. Our gazes lock and I feel my breath whoosh from my lungs as a warning thrill runs through my body. Nope, definitely delirium because those cold, soulless eyes are not the eyes of an avenging angel but the devil incarnate.

The room has fallen silent as a tomb and I see more than half of the bidders scramble back in a panic like he actually has the power to steal their souls but he is not looking at them, he is staring right at me as I rise slowly to my feet and take an instinctual step back.

“Five hundred million.” He says in a voice that doesn’t have to be loud. Everyone hears anyway, and there are several harsh intakes of breath, mine included.

My mind is boggled. Five hundred million? I take another step back, my mind screaming caution. No. If Silas Wren reminds me of a rabid dog, this stranger is a full-bodied tiger. He will swallow me whole and spit my bones out and why would he pay that amount to own me?

“Five hundred million!” The auctioneer chokes and Rafe Lennox crosses hurriedly to the front.

“She is mine!” Silas Wren springs up, his face contorted with rage as he stares up at the stranger. “I already bought her!” But the stranger only levels him a cool look.

“I think not.” He says and even his voice commands attention. “And you should reconsider laying claim to what is already mine.”

They are talking about me like I’m a slab of meat in the market. Bitterness rises up at the back of my tongue but I’m not stupid enough to interrupt. I’m also not stupid enough to think I’ve been saved, not when shadows seem to curl like pets around my “savior” but I do know I would pick anyone at all over Silas Wren.

“Sold!” Rafe Lennox declares as he snatches the mic from the auctioneer. “Mr. Volkov, I had no idea you would be joining us today.” He simps.

The stranger levels another cold look at Rafe Lennox and it’s because I’m staring hard at him that I see a muscle feather at his jaw, see Rafe blank at that look. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hates the auction organizer but maybe he hates everyone.

“Meet my secretary.” He says and turns those soulless eyes to me, holding out his hand. “Come.”

My body locks down as I stare at his outstretched hand. Rafe Lennox called him Volkov. There is only one Volkov strong enough to commandeer this reaction from a roomful of thugs and brutes, only one Volkov that can make Silas Wren shake with anger as he impotently grabs his coat and stomps out of the room. It’s Nikolai Volkov.

That’s a name that belongs in the shadows, a name that’s whispered in the dead of night, one synonymous to bodies washed-up in the river, gutted in alleys, broken families. He was no more than a fable to me before tonight, a modern monster that Mum sometimes uses to scare my sisters into bed. And that monster just bought me. For the first time, I wonder if I may have been better off leaving with Silas Wren.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He growls and I flinch. He didn’t even raise his voice but he might as well have lashed me. His hand is still outstretched as he waits, his eyes narrowing ever slightly with impatience. “Come to me.”

It feels like the room itself is holding its breath. My body obeys before my mind can input on the matter, my shaking legs taking one step towards him as my heart pounds so hard and fast I think it will pump right out of my chest. Even though I stand on the raised dais, he towers over me. I feel tiny and insignificant in comparison as I take another shaky step forward.

Those cold eyes take me in, all of me from head to toe, never giving away a thought and I feel lightheaded with awareness. My body tingles from my head to my toes, everywhere his gaze touched. Was I mistaken? How could the most rotten person come in the most exquisite package?

I take one more step before the lightheartedness overwhelms me. There is a sensation of falling and then I feel nothing at all.