On cue, a single file line of women entered the room. If Gabe had to guess, they were probably between nineteen and twenty-eight. There were almost twice as many women as there were men, which meant, there would at least be a few threesomes tonight. They all wore very elegant black lingerie. The styles differed—some long classy gowns, some short sassy little skirts and lace bras. There was leather, silk, lace. There were boots on some and high heels on others. Gloves on a few. But everything was black. And everything was expensive. The scent of vanilla wafted into the room with their arrival.
As soon as they’d come into the room, Gabe knew something was very wrong about all this, despite the exquisite packaging. He’d been assured Dmitri’s girls were all here freely. Given the differences in their houses and that Dmitri didn’t cater to a specifically kinky set, Gabe had known going in that there would be more to these girls’ stories than he was told. Bad childhoods, poverty, maybe drug addiction. The idea that outside of a kink, women would just line up to be badly used by selfish wealthy men was insane on its face. There were too many risks and nothing in it for them.
Even so, Gabe had assumed a level of willingness that wasn’t reflected on any of these girls’ faces. Instead, what he found when he looked at them was fear and defeat. They were clearly being abused, threatened, most likely brought here against their will from the start. Had they been tricked somehow or just taken off the street?
Gabe glanced around the room at the men. It was lascivious smiles and anticipation all around while erections tented the fronts of otherwise nice pants. They were entirely oblivious. They were so used to using women however they saw fit—as if women existed as decorations and tools only—that they refused to look too deeply behind the facade of pretty lingerie and painted faces and long flowing hair gently curled for their aesthetic pleasure.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Griffin?” Dmitri asked.
Gabe forced all trace of disgust from his face and plastered a fake smile on top. “No. Everything’s fine.”
“Wonderful. You will get first pick. You may take more than one if you like to any room in the house you prefer to take your pleasure in.”
“Thank you.”
Gabe’s gaze roved over the girls. Despite how he routinely treated girls like his sex slaves while training them at the house, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach having even the most vanilla sex with one of these women. They didn’t want to be here. As distasteful as the whole thing was, he might have to make some half-hearted attempt in order to get out of this house alive. If he seemed in any way bothered by things, they might decide he was the liability. Funny, because he’d been thinking the opposite.
His roving gaze stopped. His heart and breath stopped as all the air and life were sucked from the room.
No. Not her.
About halfway down the line stood the girl he’d been trying to forget about for months. Julie. She wore thigh-high black leather boots, a black lace bra, and black lace mini-skirt that left nothing of her body to anyone’s imagination. Shocked hazel eyes met his, then she quickly averted her gaze and stared at the ground, silent tears moving down her cheeks.
Dmitri’s voice rose to fill the ballroom. “Mr. Griffin, if you’ll be so kind as to choose your entertainment for the evening. The girls have been given very strict instructions and told that you have some rather unconventional desires, and that they are to comply with whatever you wish.”
Keep it together. No emotion. Be cold. Be Brian. In all his time at the house, Gabe had never thought there would come a moment when he longed to be more like the house sociopath.
Gabe walked down the row of girls, pretending to consider each one. He went down the line fully twice. Every single one of these girls seemed to mentally shout Not me, not me, please not me. But none broadcast this most urgent desire more than Julie.
Finally, when he thought it appeared that he’d actually deliberated on this, he stopped in front of her. She cringed and seemed to fold in on herself as if trying to escape his notice even though she already had it. He placed a hand under her chin and raised it, but even so, she refused to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure?” Dmitri asked. “Julie is not our best. We’re thinking of retiring her.”
Gabe forced down every emotion that threatened to burst to the surface. “Yes. This is the one I want,” he said. “I’m sure she just needs a firm hand. She will give me everything I demand of her. I like it when they resist a little, then I get to teach them their place with me.” This wasn’t in any way true. That was much more Brian’s game than his, but it was a credible lie that coaxed a smile of approval from Dmitri.
A small whimper escaped Julie’s mouth.
“Very well, if you insist,” Dmitri said.
“I do insist.” Gabe resisted the urge to wipe the tears from her face, and instead touched her shoulder and let his hand gently trail down her arm to take her hand in his. It was the most reassurance he could give her with so many eyes on him, though he was sure it didn’t penetrate the cloud of fear that surrounded her. And if possible, it seemed to scare her more.
He led her from the ballroom, down the hall, and up the staircase to the second floor. He took her to a large bedroom at the end of the hallway. Quiet, private. It might not remain so as the other men came to find rooms of their own, but at least it was at the end of a hall instead of sandwiched in the middle of everything.
Inside, he shut and locked the door and took a look around. The room was gaudy and flaunted Dmitri’s wealth. Definitely trying too hard. Half the furniture had some actual real gold on it somewhere. If the clientele wasn’t so rich themselves, they’d probably take doorknobs and dresser handles with them on their way out the door. This room was decorated mostly in a rich green of varying shades. The drapes were a heavy dark green brocade. There was lighter green and cream-colored bedding. This room had its own attached bathroom and a giant window that overlooked the property, or it would have if the curtains weren’t pulled for privacy.
He sat in an overstuffed dark green chair in the far corner and loosened his tie and observed her. There seemed to be shock, fear, and shame, all directed his way in equal measure.
“If it’s a comfort, I’m very surprised to see you, too.” He’d thought maybe he could tease a smile out of her or put her at ease—let her know all that downstairs was just an act—but the easy way she’d had about her once was gone.
“Julie, tell me what they’ve done to you. I can help you. You can trust me.”
Her lip trembled and she looked at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. “I-I don’t know what you mean. I don’t need any help.” But the tremble moved from her lip, down her arms, to her hands.
He was amazed she was able to stand under her own steam. She seemed so terribly thin and frail to him.
“Julie, don’t lie to me.”
Her gaze jerked up to his. “Please, I’m not lying. I just want to please you.”
More lies. She just wanted to survive. And whatever she’d been told about him, combined with his own not so subtle hints on their one and only date some months ago, he knew she was convinced this was all some sort of trap, that he was setting her up only to betray her and watch the life go from her eyes when Dmitri sent one of his armed minions up here after her.