by Amelia Wilde
“What are you thinking of?”
I laugh. “What do you mean?”
“Your eyes...” Brigit frowns. “You looked like you were thinking of something unbearably sad.”
“Ah.” I spin her around, taking her smoothly across the floor, and another couple joins us, then another. “Nothing is unbearably sad, sweetheart. Emotions are such fleeting things.”
“Are they?”
“You’re standing here right now, aren’t you?” We turn again, and again. Brigit’s a good dancer too. She’s had some practice at some point in her life, or else she’s skilled at following. Not every woman is. Some of them want to lead so badly that they’ll make fools of themselves to do it. “Some feeling must have driven you here. I told you to stay in my bed. Tell me, Brigit. What was it?”
Famous last words.
25
Brigit
He’s just so good at dancing.
He’s so comfortable in his body, so beautiful in his suit, so graceful. I saw him fight five men mere hours ago. I saw him rub his knuckles and then walk away, head up, like nothing happened. He’s a dangerous man. But here, on the dance floor, he looks like a dream. Light in his eyes, in his hair. He always looks like he’s standing in the sun.
And the low question, the play of a smile on his lips, it does me in. The full weight of those fleeting emotions comes down hard on my heart, and all the plans I had for keeping my chin up and holding myself together tonight shatter and break. He’s asking me, in that voice of his, the one that makes me feel drunk on the sound.
Maybe this night isn’t a nightmare.
Maybe it is magic.
“It wasn’t a feeling,” I point out. “It was Reya.”
He narrows his eyes. “Was it?”
Mistake—mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have pretended that she had nothing to do with it. Keep dancing. “I thought you sent her.”
“You didn’t think. Otherwise, you’d have stayed in bed, where I put you.” Such light words, such little knives.
“She came to get me.” I keep myself upright in his arms, barely. “And no, I didn’t fight her on it. I wanted—” Zeus twirls me out away from him, and it’s effortless. I don’t have to worry that he’s going to drop me. I don’t have to worry about losing my footing. I just do, and he brings me back to my place without his smile faltering. “I wanted to be near you,” I say simply, finally.
Another low laugh. “You and everyone else in this room.”
“No, I mean it.” There are more people around us now, but none of them are as good as he is at dancing. “That was the feeling that made me come here tonight. I wanted to be with you.” I can’t stop myself. “I care about you. So much.”
He stops dead in the middle of the dance floor, and for a second, the room keeps spinning. It’s so abrupt that I feel myself fall into his hand. He keeps me upright, but part of me keeps falling and falling.
Zeus
What the fuck is she thinking?
The hope in her eyes is an incandescent, awful thing.
Brigit’s flushed, her pupils huge and dark, and she’s so close—so close. But no matter how beautiful she is, no matter how much I want her, she’ll never be anything but a whore.
That’s true of her and all women.
They can be well-paid, well-cared-for whores, but nothing more. My father taught me that. If they become anything more, then they’re a weakness, and weaknesses are best when they’re silent and compliant and most of all gone.
I drop her hand. Breaking the connection between us is a shock to my burned-out soul. The step I take away from her is a knife to the gut. “You care about me?” I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re not going to last long in this profession if you care about every customer.”
The people around us are beginning to notice that something is wrong. They’re filtering away, disappearing into the dark corners of the room, and Brigit’s eyes follow them as they go. I see the beginnings of fear there, of hurt—and then she pulls herself upright and puts on her best face. “I don’t care about everyone,” she says, voice clear as a bell. “Only you.”
I look her in the eyes before I do it.
It’s the courteous thing to do.
And then I take another step back, pulling a sheet of paper out of my pocket. The music fades out, and so do the conversations. They’ve been waiting for me, the people at this party. They are always waiting for me. “I have an announcement to make,” I tell them, shaking the paper so it opens. “Our newest girl, Brigit, has passed her training.”
A swell of applause that feels like death rises around the tables, along with a few choice wolf-whistles.
Brigit freezes. She manages a turn to one direction, but it’s clear she doesn’t know where to look. It doesn’t matter. They’ll pay for her whether she’s looking or not.
“In the beginning, she was useless,” I announce, to a wave of laughter. “The first time she kissed me, I almost sent her back out to the street. But she was brave. I’ll give her points for that. And for coming on my fingers like such a good slut. Right there in the lounge, if you can believe it.” I’m dying. “And because it’s such a special night, let’s begin with this—the winning bid will also receive exclusive use of the lounge for the remainder of the party. Now… prepare yourselves, gentlemen. Whoever bids the highest will have her for the night. Other arrangements pending. We’ll start with a bid of twenty-five thousand.”
It’s a joke. They know it. “A hundred!” someone calls out from a darker corner.
“A hundred thousand,” I repeat. A hundred thousand dollars. Pitiful. It’s the minimum price for Brigit, and for my heart.
26
Brigit
I’ve been such a fool.
Now I’m a fool having hot flashes in the middle of an empty dance floor while Zeus reads names from the list of men who also want exclusive use of the lounge. I don’t know which thing they want more—the lounge or me. The temperature of my skin rises then falls. My knees shake under the dress. I’d rather die than fall. They’d be on me in an instant. There would be no time to run. I’m in a room full of wolves, and the most dangerous one is circling me, accepting bids for my first night as one of the girls.
Two hundred thousand.
Three hundred thousand.
“She cries when she comes,” Zeus comments, and the bid goes up to four hundred thousand. “It’s a pretty sight. I’d make her do it now, but she’d ruin all that lovely makeup.”
“How does she feel?” The man’s voice is indistinct. They keep asking questions, but I never manage to see who it is. “Is she tight?”
“So fucking tight.” Zeus laughs, and the room laughs with him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Five hundred thousand.
What is he doing?
“Did you leave anything for us?” Anticipation takes wing and flits around the room, which breathes with it. It’s the most terrifying sensation I’ve ever felt. Worse than the alley. Worse than running here. Worse than all of it. “Zeus, tell us.”
He relishes this question.
At least… I think he does. Something shifts in his eyes, a shadow, but it’s gone in a heartbeat. God, I’ve been such a fool. So stupid. I thought—I hoped—there was something between us. Something different, and special. I thought I felt it. I was wrong. He’s stepped in to save me more than once, and I thought… I thought….
Thinking about it any more is going to crush me, but I can’t stop. I worry at the wound like it’s an actual stab to my belly. Is that blood dripping down to the floor or just the shattered remnants of my heart? I cast around for something to think about and come up with Zeus. His hands on my hips. His mouth on my mouth. His eyes searching mine. No. God—why? That’s not comforting. It was all fake. It was all a performance.
“Did I leave anything for the rest of you?” Zeus turns from side to side, looking them all in the eye. “Are you a
sking if I’ve tasted her?”
“Maybe,” calls the same man.
“I have.” Zeus is so flippant about this, as if it wasn’t a world-changing thing that he did to me on his desk that day. “Sweet as fuck,” he says. “Sweet as honey, I should say.”
Six hundred thousand.
This place was supposed to be good for the women. Or if not good, then at least safer than the other alternatives. This doesn’t seem good. This seems very, very bad. And it’s not just me. The other girls gathered around the room look... unsettled. They’re not supposed to look horrified when they’re with clients, so the amount of eyebrows drawn together is not a good sign. Alicia’s jaw is set tight, her hands braced on a table.
“I lied before,” Zeus pretends to admit. “I know what you’re really asking.”
My face burns. There’s going to be nothing left for whoever bids the highest, because I will be nothing. I’ll fall through the floor to the center of the earth and burn up in a pit of lava.
“Her asshole,” he says, and there—I’m dead. “It’s heaven to fuck. The way it grips, the way she cries….” He stares up at the ceiling, seeming overwhelmed at the memory. But then his eyes snap back down to the clients. It’s not the men who catch my attention though. It’s Savannah.
She’s sitting closest to the dance floor. She should be the one with a straight face. But she looks sick at what’s happening to me. Mortified on my behalf.
“The highest bidder tonight,” continues Zeus, “will be the second man to fuck her ass, and I can promise you, that’s a privilege worth paying for.”
There’s too much noise after that to keep track of what’s happening. The bid keeps climbing and climbing, and with every heartbeat, I’m sure it’s over. It’s got to be over. I can’t do this, but I have to do this. This is what my life has come to.
“One million,” says a man. I haven’t heard his voice before, but it sends shivers down my spine. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment.
And then…
“Any challengers?” Zeus gives them plenty of time. His jaw ticks. It’s subtle, but my heart beats faster at the sight of it.
The silence is absolute, except for my own heart in my ears.
He’s reading a name. “Lounge or upstairs?” Zeus calls over the chatter. “Ah, upstairs. The lounge will have to wait.” He gives a signal, and then there’s a hand on my elbow. It’s Reya, her expression impassive.
“You have a few minutes,” she tells me. “Take advantage of it.”
How? How am I supposed to take advantage of it? All I can do is follow her up to the main floor, to the beautiful rooms that I stupidly envied before. Reya ushers me into one and throws open the wardrobe. “There’s plenty to wear,” she says. “I’d stay in that until you know what his preferences are. The bid is for the rest of the night; he has until dawn with you. Zeus will be making other arrangements downstairs, so when you’re finished, you can come to his office.”
“I—”
Reya squeezes my hand. “You’ll be fine.”
And then she’s gone.
I run for the door with a vague plan of sprinting until I reach the ocean or the other side of the country, but it flies open in my hand.
“I can’t believe he did that to you,” Savannah says, her voice tight with anger. “That was sick. Are you okay?”
“Are you okay? Did something happen to you?” Of all the unbelievable things, Savannah coming to check on me is the least plausible. I’m shaking with adrenaline and half-formed plans. “Why are you here?”
“Look.” She puts a hand in a hidden pocket of her dress and comes up with a small foil packet. “Take this in the next minute, and you should be relaxed for... for the night. Okay? Just try not to fight it too much.”
“Fight what?”
“Fight him on what he wants. He’ll be up here any minute. The man who bought you—he likes when you’re quiet, and you just take what’s coming.” The expression that crosses her face tells me that what’s coming won’t be pleasant. “Just imagine it’s someone else. You can do this.” Savannah pulls me into a giant hug, which I accept as gracefully as a piece of plywood. A hug? What is going on? Who is this man? “I’m sorry I was such a bitch,” she whispers, and then she lets go and heads for the door.
“Wait—”
She does not wait.
The door closes behind her with a soft, final thud. I don’t know how to time this so that there won’t be anyone in the hallway. If Savannah’s still out there—if the man who bought me is out there—I’ll be screwed. A wild laugh hurts my throat. I’m screwed either way. My legs feel frozen in place, my hands pinned to my thighs, and all that practice with faking orgasms has come to nothing. There’s no way; there’s just no way…
The window behind me shatters.
I cover my head on instinct, and by the time I straighten up, they’re on top of me. Three of them. Dark clothes. Ropes at the ready.
This time, I’m prepared.
Heartbroken, and prepared.
If he’s not going to stop them, then what choice do I have? It’s this, or the man who bought me, the man I don’t want.
“Don’t bother with those.” I gesture to the ropes. “I won’t fight you this time.”
It won’t save me anyway.
Only Zeus can save me, but he wants to sell me to the highest bidder. He only cares about the money. I can’t keep pretending this is better than being sold to my uncle.
The first one has a gag and he comes forward with it. “In case you change your mind,” he says, and then it’s in my mouth, and then it’s too late. He picks me up, not quite as easily as Zeus would, and they take me out the window.
I’m being carried down the side of the building when the door to the room opens. “What the fuck?” It’s a man’s voice, but not Zeus’s. A client being deprived of his purchase. Because his purchase is being placed into the back of a van. The flooring is covered with a thin layer of industrial carpet, and my ass protests.
One of the men stands over me to shut the doors, and the other two climb into the front, and it starts, and it’s moving.
The van rumbles along a street.
It comes to a stop and I lose my balance, my head hitting the side of the van. I wait for the doors to be torn open. For Zeus to rip the car apart with his bare hands. For him to take back what he said to all those men. For a miracle.
There’s no miracle.
We trundle forward again. One more turn. Another. Another. And then an acceleration. We’re getting on the highway. I don’t know which direction we’re going. Anywhere—we could be going anywhere.
They’re silent as we go over the familiar bumps on the highway. I think of Zeus’s eyes. Being carried in his arms. The beat of his heart. The road is like that too—a heart beating. He’s not here, it says. He’s not here. Zeus is not here.
Thank you so much for reading RICHER THAN GOD! Find out what happens during the fall of Olympus in SWEETER THAN SIN. With Brigit held captive and Zeus’s world collapsing, all bets are off…and the fates intervene.
One-click SWEETER THAN SIN!
You can also read Hades’ story right now in KING OF SHADOWS!
"Breathtaking, intense, and scorching hot, King of Shadows is the modern myth I've been waiting for." –Skye Warren, New York Times bestselling author
I'll get away from Hades–I have to. Even if it costs me everything. And it will cost me everything.
He takes me in the middle of the night, his eyes cruel in the moonlight. It's a deal, he says. My life for another.
I expect him to kill me. He doesn't.
I expect him to lock me away. He doesn't.
What happens is next is darker than midnight.
And worst of all?
I like it.
Connect with Amelia
Amelia Wilde is a USA TODAY bestselling author of steamy contemporary romance and loves it a little too much. She lives in Michigan with her husband and daughter
s. She spends most of her time typing furiously on an iPad and appreciating the natural splendor of her home state from where she likes it best: inside.
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P.S. There’s more where that came from!
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