Page 10 of A Virgin for the Mafia Daddy

Eventually the guard stops before an ornate set of double doors. "Here you go,” he announces. “Cole informed me that he won’t be attending tonight’s auction, but you’ll find his brother, Caden, inside with the other gentlemen," he announces. "I trust you know what's expected of you."

“Is this… is this the auction?” I say, my voice suddenly dry and raspy.

The guard’s eyes narrow again, his skepticism fully back. “That is what you’re here for, right? You’re Cole’s virgin for the auction.”

Shit. I can’t exactly redact what I said. Besides, if I go in there, it ensures Olivia won’t… right?

My mouth goes dry, but I force myself to nod. As the guard pushes open the doors, my breath catches at the sight within.

The area we enter is like a staging room. Filled with wall to wall mirrors and lights and a wardrobe rack holding all kinds of hanging negligees and lingerie.

Against one wall is a window where I can see into the lavish room on the other side.

The room is large and ornately furnished, with plush sofas, gleaming wood surfaces, and pristine white carpets with a slightly elevated stage area.

It would be stunning… if not for the fifteen well-dressed middle-aged men lounging on plush leather couches, crystal tumblers of amber liquid in hand as they converse in hushed tones. Their eyes gleam with anticipation beneath the soft glow of the chandeliers.

My heart skips a beat as I realize that these men are all lined up in a semicircle around the stage…

And they’re here for the auction.

I’m going to lose my virginity to one of the men sitting here in this room.

I frantically scan their faces, searching for any sign of mercy, but find none. These are not kind men. They have not come here for my well-being.

The guard clears his throat and I'm jolted back to the present. "All underwear off. Time to get changed," the guard says and if I didn’t know better, I’d say I hear a little bit of compassion in his tone as he gestures toward the clothing rack. "Our patrons don't like to be kept waiting."

With trembling fingers, I thumb through the scanty lingerie options until I find a simple white lace and silk slip that offers marginally more coverage.

I shuck my clothes off and pull the slip over my head, adjusting it so that the lace and silk cover me entirely, looking down at where the hem hits me just at the top of the thighs. The silky material clings to my body and without any underwear beneath, you can see the mauve of my nipples through the almost sheer material.

I glance at myself in the mirror. I could put on makeup.

Or use the curling iron they’ve provided.

But I don’t necessarily care about making myself beautiful for these men.

So after a little scrunch of my hair, I turn back around to face the window. It’s clearly one of those two-way mirror things where I can see out but they can’t see in, because no one seems to even notice I’m back here.

After another minute, there’s a knock on the door, the guard having returned. He gives me a once over. “Ready?”

I nod despite my trembling knees and sudden cottonmouth.

Before I can even gather my wits, I’m being led out onto the stage and positioned center stage.

I take one last steadying breath and look out at the men as they fall silent, turning their predatory gazes on me. Hungry, ravenous eyes sweep over my nearly naked body as they all sit forward in their seats.

Another well-dressed man in an expensive-looking suit steps onto the stage with me and I startle because at first, I think it’s Cain. He has similar coloring. Similar blue-black hair and the same sharp jawline.

But this man has a scar slicing across his chin. And more stubble.

"Gentlemen! Tonight we are honored to present to you a rare treat. An eighteen-year-old virgin."

He pauses for effect. The room erupts into whispers and the sounds of glasses clinking together as they toast each other. If this were any other time or place I might find it comical how serious these men looked. But tonight, it’s anything but funny. My virginity is on the line here.

My stomach turns at the thought.

I’m doing this for Olivia, I’m doing this for Olivia…

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