Page 41 of Ruthless Reign

I steer the conversation towards the many other syndicate issues Pavel and I need to discuss. With Maxim taking a step away from the business, Pavel has taken over our counterfeit operations, which range from art and wine to money, and even fake car parts.

As we discuss syndicate matters, I don’t realize how much of the day has slipped away until I notice the sun going down over London. Liza should be back from the spa any minute now.

I’ve arranged for hotel security to escort her back to the suite. If I’m truly going to let this fucked-up obsession go, I need to avoid her as much as possible.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LIZA

I wait until Roman is asleep. Or at least, I think he is. There’s no way for me to know for sure, but I haven’t heard a sound from his room after he turned off the TV, and that was hours ago.

It's almost midnight, which means I need to be in front of the hotel waiting for the driver in about fifteen minutes. I've taken a shower, curled my hair, applied makeup, and put on the dress that Paulina sent as a little gift. It’s sexy, simple, and black. Really, the dress doesn’t matter; as Paulina made clear earlier, it all comes off once I hit the stage.

Just thinking about it makes my heart hammer so loud that I swear I can hear it in my ears. A flutter of nerves tickles my skin. I try to shake them off, but they cling stubbornly. This is easily the craziest, most daring thing I’ve ever done, but somehow the idea of not going through with it is even more scary.

I give myself a final once-over in the mirror, smoothing down the slinky fabric of my backless dress one last time. I covered the bruise Anatoly gave me with makeup as I’ve been doing all week, but it’s still tender—a reminder of why I’m doing this. What I need to escape.

I pick up my cell phone from the dressing table and see that I have a missed call from Anatoly. It doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with him right now.

I power my phone off and leave it tucked away in a drawer. There’s no point in taking it with me. While I’m confident that no one can track me using my phone because of the security measures I have in place, I'm not taking a chance. Especially if Roman somehow discovers I’m missing.

An ache cuts through my chest at imagining how he’ll react if he finds my bed empty in the middle of the night. Despite my earlier attempts to push him away, I know he’ll tear up the city to find me. Not because he’s my guard but because of whatever this is between us.

Was between us. I shut it down this morning. There was no other way.

I grab a small clutch, then drop my room key and a piece of paper with my bank details into it, along with a hundred-pound note for cash—credit cards are traceable.

A pair of high heels dangles from my hand as I quietly slip out of my room and down the dark corridor.

Paulina’s driver is waiting for me in front of the hotel. It’s a short drive to Sanctuary, and I spend the entire time trying to rein in my anxiety and not think about what lies ahead.

The driver pulls into the back of the club, and somehow that makes everything feel real. Last night feels like an entire lifetime ago. When we were dropped off in front of the club, I had no idea what was ahead of me. But tonight, everything changes.

The driver opens the back door for me and leads me through the club's rear entrance. Inside, Paulina is waiting, dressed much like last night in all black, though tonight's dress is more glamorous. It’s shiny, tight, and off-the-shoulder.

Without a mask, I can see her face for the first time. She possesses an elegant beauty with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes showing a hint of fine lines at the sides when she offers me a warm smile.

Paulina guides me into what appears to be a lounge area. The room is dotted with sumptuous velvet chairs. There’s a small bar and a cozy fireplace that casts a warm glow across the space.

“Drink?” she suggests, breaking the silence.

“Please.” I lower myself into one of the chairs. “Nothing too strong." I need something to take the edge off, but anything too potent will just ramp up my anxiety.

She pops a bottle of champagne and pours me a glass. “It’s normal to be nervous. Everyone is. But just so you know, the buzz about you has been off the charts. You’re the star tonight, darling. You’ll have Europe’s richest men bidding against each other over a chance to be with you.”

I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be comforting, but I guess she’s reminding me why I’m here—for the money.

I take a big gulp of my drink before asking, “How much money will I earn?”

“We’ll start the bidding...” She pauses for a moment as if trying to gauge my reaction. “How much do you need?”

I swallow hard. “One hundred thousand dollars.”

Her eyes widen. “There are no guarantees, but we'll start the bidding a little higher than usual. We take a thirty-percent cut, but I have a good feeling you’ll still come out ahead.”

She lays out the paperwork in front of me—a contract, including an NDA and a form for my banking details. It almost makes me laugh that there’s bureaucracy even in selling one’s virginity.

“Do you have any hard limits?” Paulina asks carefully. “Things you don’t want to do.”

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