by Measha Stone
“I—” There was no good way to answer that question. If she lied, her mother would know, and if she told the truth, her mother would be angry. “I need you to slow down. What’s going on? What do you mean ‘buy me’?”
Bellatrix let out a huff of air. “He did. Those damn Titon men. Just take whatever they want. Though I doubt you gave him much trouble.” She raised a dark eyebrow at Azalea. “That’s okay. As long as that pussy of yours is good and tight, you’ll still fetch a good price.”
She walked away from Azalea, circling around the desk and opening a drawer.
“You’re going to sell me?” Azalea said the words, but her brain still would not comprehend them.
Bellatrix sighed again, pulling a revolver from the desk drawer. “You’re too old to keep locked away. It’s your twenty-third birthday. Did you forget your own birthday?”
Her birthday. Azalea blinked. She had forgotten—not that she had any clue what day it actually was. Days without seeing the sunlight would do that.
“Why would you keep me locked away? I don’t understand! You were always so protective of me, and now you want to sell me to some—some—”
“Azalea, please pay attention,” her mother snapped. “I have no use for you any longer. That’s the truth of it. And keeping you is more of a hassle than it’s worth. I could kill you—” She waved the barrel of the revolver in Azalea’s general direction. “But look at you! That hair, those damn eyes of yours, and your body was made for a man’s pleasure. You do have some worth left. What better birthday present than a new life.”
Azalea rubbed her eyes. Why couldn’t she get her mind to clear enough to understand what was being said?
“Don’t worry about that dizziness you’re feeling,” her mother said. “Just a side-effect of the sedative. Once we’re done here, you can go back down to your cell and sleep.”
“Done?” Azalea blinked a few more times. How had she slipped her a sedative? She hadn’t eaten or drunk. She’d only taken a shower, and brushed her teeth.
The toothpaste? Could it have been drugged?
“Yes. After you’ve rested some more, you’ll be brought up here to get ready. There are several prospective buyers coming tonight for dinner. You’ll be showcased then.”
“Prospective…” Azalea’s eyelids were too heavy to keep open. She leaned against the armchair.
“Yes, and I’m sure you won’t disappoint me. You’ll smile, and you’ll speak when spoken to, and I’ll make a tidy profit.” Bellatrix lifted her gun. “I truly don’t like to be disappointed.” Swinging her arm to the right, she pulled the trigger.
Azalea’s ears rang from the sound of the gunshot, but what stole her attention was Santos falling to the ground in a heap. The bullet had struck him in the center of his forehead. Blood pooled on the floor. The men who had been holding him flanked Azalea and grabbed her arms.
Was she next? Would her mother end her life just as it was about to begin?
Did Peter even know where she was?
Peter took over her thoughts while her mind slowed to a crawl then a stop, and the darkness she’d been chasing took over completely.
Chapter 22
Peter slammed the door to the office and stalked to the wet bar his cousin kept. A stiff drink would not be enough to wipe away the anger and fear and guilt lingering over him, but it would at least dull it enough to let him think more clearly.
Where the fuck would Bellatrix have taken Azalea? They’d already searched the townhouse and the small office building registered in Bellatrix’s name. Nothing. Not a fucking trace.
“Peter.” Daniel barged into the room.
“What?” Peter downed another gulp of whiskey.
“Hunter and Damien have arrived.”
Peter poured another finger of liquor. “Send them in. What are you waiting for?”
Daniel opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but shook his head and disappeared again.
Hunter and Damien walked in, wearing confused, but irritated expressions.
“Peter.” Hunter extended his hand, but Peter didn’t bother with the pleasantries.
“Damien, sit.” Damien worked for Hunter, which was the only reason he was involved at all. They needed Hunter’s uncle to cooperate.
“Peter, what’s going on?” Hunter demanded.
Peter sighed. “Azalea’s gone.” He breathed out, the pain at the memory of her being spirited away hadn’t dulled a fraction even with the copious amount of whiskey he’d drunk.
“Azalea? The girl my uncle was asking about?” Hunter pressed.
“Yes. Her name is Azalea Gothel. Except”—Peter looked at Damien—“I don’t think that’s her real name.”
“Okay, so what does that have to with me, or Damien?”
Peter kept his focus on Damien. “Are you an only child?” Peter asked.
Damien laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Are you?” Peter pressed. He needed to be absolutely sure before he dropped it in Damien’s lap.
“Yes—well—no.” Damien’s smile waned. “I had a younger sister, but she was killed. A long time ago, when I was a kid.”
“Killed? Or taken?” Peter pressed, knowing the look of discomfort in Damien’s eyes too well.
“Taken. Kidnapped when she was barely a year old. But we assumed—I assumed.” Damien shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Why are you asking all this?”
“And did Bellatrix do business with anyone in your family?”
“I was a kid. I don’t know.” Damien shrugged, looking more agitated.
“If she works with my uncle now, she more than likely dealt with Damien’s father at some point. He worked alongside my uncle when we were kids.”
Loyalty didn’t die off when a member of the family died, no matter how loose the relation.
“Are you trying to tell me Bellatrix kidnapped my sister?” Damien stepped forward, his voice hard and full of threat. “You’d better have some real evidence to suggest something like that.”
Peter picked up a picture from his desk and handed it to him. “That’s a still photo from the security camera at Tower. If she’s not related to you, then it’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Hunter moved closer to Damien to look at the shot. He let out a low whistle. “Hell, that hair.”
“Yeah, like gold spun with streaks of silver, just like your man here. And the eyes, and the nose— Hell. She could be his fucking twin.”
“Why didn’t you say something when we were here?” Damien asked, still staring at the photograph.
“I didn’t recognize it until you were leaving. I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for certain. But then Bellatrix showed up.” Peter dragged his hand through his hair.
What a fucking shit show that meeting had been.
“But you’re sure, now?”
“We’re sure Bellatrix isn’t her mother.” Daniel walked into the room. “It looks like Bellatrix was once a girl in the Annex.”
Peter’s brows came together. He hadn’t known that.
“She was in the Annex but had been bought. After that, there’s no record of her until she showed up as a vendor. We couldn’t find record of her at first because when she was here, she went by Bella Schmale. Not much of a name. She must have changed it when she was bought.”
“Who bought her?” Peter demanded.
“Kevin Simon.” Daniel glanced at Damien.
“My father?” Damien nearly roared the question. Hunter put his hand on Damien’s shoulder.
“From what the ledgers show—and it took some deciphering of Samuel’s code, but yeah, Kevin Simon bought her. After the sale, there’s nothing. Samuel wouldn’t have record of what happened to the women after they left the Annex.”
“Do you remember there being a nanny, maybe?” Hunter asked Damien.
“No. There was never another woman in our fucking house. My father stayed loyal to my mother. To his very l
ast breath.” Damien’s eyes darkened, his hands fisted.
“Somehow Bellatrix had access to Azalea. And she has her again. We need to find out where she took her.” Peter focused on Hunter. “Your uncle might know. I need a meeting with him, I need to know where she keeps her girls.”
Hunter shook his head. “He’s not going to give up that information. Not to a Titon. You’re out of the business, remember? And letting that information out would damage his own business.”
“She has Azalea.” Peter ground the sentence out. He was fucking sick of the games played by the families. All the formalities and bullshit. If one fucking hair was bent out of shape on Azalea’s head when he found her, every one of the fuckers would pay.
“I’ll get the information you need.” Hunter pulled out his phone.
“I’m going with you when you find her,” Damien said, sitting down in the chair and pressing his hands into his knees.
Peter nodded. He would need good men to go with him. It was doubtful Bellatrix would welcome them with open arms.
Hunter stepped out of the room with his phone pressed against his ear.
“Did you find anything else in my uncle’s ledgers?” Peter asked Daniel.
“Nothing that made sense or was worth anything. He dealt with Bellatrix later, buying girls from her every once in a while. Mostly, he sold to her.”
“If she hurts Azalea—”
“She won’t.” Hunter stepped inside the room again. “She can’t hurt her.”
“Why?” Damien asked.
“Because she’s selling her. There’s an auction for her tonight.”
Chapter 23
With a less groggy head but still confused mind, Azalea was led up to a dressing room. She didn’t know how long she’d slept. She only knew she was being primped in order to be pimped.
“Only a little makeup. Her innocence is where her beauty lies.” Her mother floated into the cramped room. The woman holding the curling iron in one hand and a large amount of Azalea’s hair in the other nodded.
“Of course, madame,” she said. “Any coloring on her lips? They are full. Men will like to see them.”
Bellatrix tapped her chin while inspecting Azalea, making her feel more like a prized ham than her daughter. “Yes. I think you’re right. They will definitely like them.”
“Mother.” Azalea tried again to reason with her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get away from Peter. I’m sorry I wasn’t home when you got back, but you can’t just—you won’t, will you? Sell me?”
Bellatrix’s cold stare sent shivers through Azalea.
“Azalea, you aren’t my daughter. Not by blood. Not by anything. You were revenge, and now that you’ve served that purpose, it’s time for you to go away.” It was her mother’s voice. Soft and purposeful like usual, but the words—so callous—so cold.
“I’m not your daughter?” Peter had warned her, had told her, but she had rejected the idea.
“I took you—from a man who thought he could discard me so easily. He loved his wife, and cast me aside—but it was also because of you. It was you he loved so much. And you made that silver-haired witch so damn happy when you were born. When he cast me out, I bided my time, but then I came for you.”
“You kidnapped me?” Azalea’s disbelief put her into action, and she started to rise from the chair. With a quick shove, the hairdresser pushed her back.
“Stay down, or I’ll strap you there,” the woman threatened, shaking the hot iron at her.
“I needed you to stay hidden, away from prying eyes. I went into business on my own and have made quite a success of it. You’ll be my biggest profit this quarter, though. Which is fitting, given how much money you’ve cost me over the years.”
Azalea’s heart clenched. She’d been kidnapped. And, now, she was being sold. To who? What man would buy another human being?
Not a kind one, of that she was sure.
“Ah, there we go. She’s finally understanding.” Bellatrix patted her cheek.
Azalea slapped her hand away and glared up at her.
“I will not be sold.” Peter would get there. He wouldn’t allow this to happen. He’d been trying to warn her about her mother. He knew—in how much detail, she wasn’t sure, but he knew Bellatrix was bad news. He wouldn’t let this happen. No one was buying her tonight.
“You raise your voice and then your hand to me?” Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, her lips thinned, and her nostrils flared.
“If you mark me, your clients will be displeased,” Azalea snapped at her, recognizing the fight in her mother’s eyes. She’d seen it before when she’d snuck down and witnessed her dealing with her men.
“Move.” Bellatrix pushed the hairdresser away from her and snagged a pair of shears from the table. “You’re right. They won’t like if you have bruises on your delicate skin. But they won’t care about your hair like you do.” She gathered it in one hand, and no matter how much Azalea struggled and tried to smack her away, she was no match for Bellatrix.
Azalea could feel each strand being pulled away as Bellatrix cut through the mass of hair. The weight eased, and by the time Bellatrix tossed the scissors back on the table, the ends of Azalea’s hair barely reached her shoulders.
It had been chopped off.
Tears flooded her eyes. She touched the ends, the raw, jagged ends. All of it—gone.
“Clean up that mess and go with short curls,” Bellatrix ordered. “If she gives you any more trouble, strap her down and gag her. We can present her that way if she chooses. Though I’m sure any man who finds her bound and gagged attractive will probably not be kind and gentle with her once he has her.”
Azalea didn’t look up at her. She didn’t need to. The chill in her voice was clear enough.
“You’re lucky.” The hairdresser ran a comb through her short locks.
“How is that?” Azalea asked, feeling as pathetic as she probably sounded.
“Most girls Madame Gothel sells are put on display in groups of five. So, by the time the last girl is up for sale, she may not have good customers left. The men are given a bidding order, and those that are not as wealthy, not as polished, are put at the end. But you—you’re the only girl being sold tonight. You will have a better chance at getting a decent owner.”
“I don’t want an owner.” Azalea fisted her hands in her lap. She wanted Peter. With all of his arrogance, and sternness, and even his dreaded punishments, she wanted him.
“Well, it’s not up to you,” the hairdresser said, and trimmed the jaggedly cut hair. “Once we’re done with this, you’ll be ready.”
Azalea picked at the hem of the linen dress she wore. “She’s going through all this trouble with my face and hair but wants me to wear this pajama-like dress?”
The hairdresser chuckled. “You won’t be wearing anything, girl. You’re being sold. You’ll be completely nude.”
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Azalea’s entire body felt on fire. She stood at the entrance of the showroom. That’s what they’d called it, a showroom. Like a car dealership! Once there, she was to remain silent and do exactly as she was told or there would be dire consequences. Or so she was told.
The hairdresser hadn’t been very comforting when Azalea’s tears fell. She’d slapped her naked breasts and chastised her for ruining the blush she’d applied.
Azalea had been stripped, washed, and lotioned for her showcase. Tears welled up, but she was able to keep them from falling and ruining her makeup. The hairdresser had smiled after slapping her breasts the first time—telling her the men would like to see a little blush on her tits. Azalea avoided having it done again.
“Bring her in. Gothel wants her up on the platform, under the light. Bind her hands if she resists at all.” A man appeared in the doorway and gave his instructions. Apparently, the hairdresser was also to be her escort.
“I can’t believe you help her sell women. What sort of person are you?” Azalea hissed when the hairdresser shoved her into mo
vement.
“A very rich person. You girls fetch good money.” With a soft pat to Azalea’s bottom, she laughed.
“Ah, here she is. Azalea.” Bellatrix’s voice took on the persona of the doting, caring caretaker. Azalea was careful not to think of her in a maternal way. It would be too much, and she’d break down right there. She needed her wits about her for whatever was coming next.
How stupid and naive had she been! Her entire life, thinking her mother loved her so much she kept her hidden away from the horrible parts of the world. That her mother only wanted her safe. How stupid, stupid, stupid she’d been!
The room was cold. Instantly, Azalea felt her nipples tighten with increased chill. Bellatrix thought of everything. What better way to get the little bumps on her flesh and perk up her nipples, but to force the reaction with the temperature.
A bright light shone on her from her very first step into the room, blinding her from seeing anyone else. Her escort led her up a short set of stairs onto a platform and pointed to a small X marked off with tape on the floor. Azalea stood in the spot and squinted into the room. She needed to see the men. Was Peter there? Had he found out about the sale and gotten inside?
Still so naive!
“I like the tits on this one,” a male voice spoke up.
“Yes, nice and round. Are they as heavy as they look?” another asked.
“You may see for yourself. One at a time, please.” Bellatrix’s singsong voice turned Azalea’s stomach.
“And her pussy?” another rang out. “I see no hair there, very nice, but is she tight? A virgin maybe?”
“She is not a virgin, no. One man has already had his way with her, but her pussy is very tight. You may inspect her when it is your turn, though only your fingers will be allowed.”
Fingers? These men were going to be allowed to probe and prod her? They were going to touch and examine? And in the end, one would buy her.
Her mind reeling, she took a step to keep from falling.
“Oh, she’s quite innocent. I think the idea of all of us getting to finger that pussy of hers has made her light-headed. Can you tie her up so she doesn’t pass out?”
