Page 3 of Broken Empire
Robert smiled and squeezed my arm. “It’s okay, Shay. Remember, this is all for you.”
“No! You’re… you’re selling me!” I choked out, gaze wildly flickering around the room as I attempted to summon enough strength to run.
“Don’t worry about that. Just try to stay calm,” he replied, wrapping a hand around my wrist. “Everyone needs to get a good look at you, and it’s much better if you’re awake. The unconscious ones don’t attract high prices.”
“Fuck you!” I snapped, trying to wriggle my hand out of his iron grip. “Let go!”
“I take back what I said about your metabolism being slow,” he muttered. He clicked a finger at someone. “Can I get a handler over here? The drugs are wearing off already.”
A man in black stepped up to me and jabbed a needle in my arm. I yelped and jumped slightly, but I couldn’t move too far because Robert was still gripping my arm. “One moment,” he called out over my head, gaze aimed at the hooded auctioneer.
The auctioneer nodded and looked out at the audience. “Looks like we’ve got a real live wire tonight,” he said in a joking tone. “She needs a double dose.”
Several members of the audience laughed. Some others dipped their heads toward the person in the seat beside them to talk about me.
The strange, floaty feeling returned to my mind and body, and I almost keeled over. Robert held me steady and lifted his free hand to signal the man at the dais.
The auctioneer nodded and turned to face the audience again. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” he said, leaning closer to the microphone. “Tonight’s bidding will be starting soon, but first, I’d like to give you some details about the item.”
I’m not a fucking item!I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t get a single word out. I thought about trying to run again, but my body was just as incapacitated as my mouth; totally rooted to the spot as the drugs flooded my bloodstream.
“Item AC-895 is twenty-one years old,” the auctioneer said. “She is five-foot-four and measures 35-25-36, and she has dark brown hair and brown eyes with golden flecks in them. She’s very beautiful, as you can all see, and she’s also an actress, which means she has the talent and skillset to make your films extra-special.”
Films? What films?
Earlier, Robert told me the Schöneberg Group weren’t sex traffickers, so I doubted the auctioneer was referring to porno films. But what else could he be talking about?
“For such a gorgeous, gifted young lady, we won’t be starting the bidding at anything below a million,” the auctioneer went on. “Now, without further ado… let the bidding begin!”
A flurry of black and gold paddles went up in the audience.
“1.1… no, 1.2,” the auctioneer called out, pointing at a man at the back. “Do I hear 1.3? Yes, sir, I see you. 1.4. Wow, 1.5! We’re moving quickly tonight. Do I hear 1.6?”
Paddles lifted and dropped as the audience made their offers. The numbers jumped higher and higher until it finally tapered off into a bidding war between the British woman in the front row and a blond man three seats behind her.
“2.2. Do I hear—yes, sir, 2.3.” The auctioneer pointed at the British woman. “2.4. Do I hear 2.5?”
The blond man nodded and raised his paddle. The British woman rolled her eyes and lifted her paddle too, muttering something into her phone at the same time.
“2.6,” the auctioneer continued. He tilted his head slightly to one side. “Do I hear 2.7 from you, sir?”
The blond man pressed his lips into a tight line. His hands remained firmly on his lap. The British woman smiled victoriously and murmured into her phone again.
“$2.6 million. Going once, going twice….” The auctioneer grinned and pressed a silver bell on the podium. It rang out loudly, followed by his booming voice. “Sold!”
2
Shay
The next fewminutes went by in a blur.
There was a flurry of activity below the stage as the auction guests stood and left the room. A handler came and gripped my right arm while Robert and the auctioneer quietly conferred with the British woman. She signed several pages of a contract, and then she left through the same door as all the others.
I stared after her, slowly blinking as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I knew she’d just bought me for $2.6 million on behalf of a Russian man, but I still had no idea why. I didn’t know why she left the gallery, either. I assumed she would take me with her after she signed the contract.
The drugs continued to stream through my veins, weakening my limbs and shredding my consciousness until I was certain I was trapped in a nightmare. I swayed and wobbled on the spot, eyelids fluttering open and shut every few seconds, until Robert came and excused the handler.
“Let’s go,” he said, gripping my other arm and pulling me toward the steps that led off the stage.
