Page 48 of Ruthless Angel

At first I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. He wanted us to work for him? For the mob?

“Work for you?” Daire repeated, sobered up by that remark. “You want us to join your organization?”

“I do,” Desmond confirmed, slightly amused by our shock. “You’ll take orders from me going forward. If I ask you to do something, you’ll do it. No questions asked. Do we have an agreement?”

I suspected that no matter what we said, he would still go after Clover. For Raina if not for us. However, I knew better than to piss off a mob boss. Being in with a guy like Desmond Monroe was far better than being on the outs with him. We didn’t really have a choice, and he knew it.

“What about our own personal activity?” Blaze dared to ask. “We can’t let guys like Brady get away with this shit.”

Desmond shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t affect me or my operations in any way, you’re free to continue your vigilante efforts. But if I ask you to do something, I expect that to become your priority.”

“Fair enough,” I said, ready to promise him anything.

Daire was ready and willing too. He stood up to reach across the table, extending a hand to Desmond. “Deal. We would be happy to work for you.”

A sense of relief settled in, spreading through me. We may have just signed our lives away to a mafia king which may very well result in our deaths. Clover was worth it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CLOVER

When Marilyn unlocked my door and entered my room the following afternoon, I was ready. I’d been expecting her. Part of me was ready to leave this place, even if it meant becoming someone else’s prisoner.

My head felt better. They hadn’t drugged me in a while, needing me clear-headed for the auction. Dragging a drugged out girl onto the auction block wouldn’t be very appealing. Not if the buyers were the rich assholes Brady described. Although some of them may be all too happy to drug me themselves once they got their hands on me.

I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe I’d end up with someone decent who treated me well. Maybe I’d be even more trapped and abused than I was now. I only hoped I would get the chance to escape. I was done being a prisoner.

“Time to get ready,” Marilyn said, her tone short and clipped. “Please hold still while I do your makeup.”

She laid out several makeup items, choosing a neutral eyeshadow palette. How incredibly boring.

“Can’t I do my own makeup?” It shouldn’t have mattered what I looked like. There was nobody for me to impress. Being myself felt right. Like I wasn’t having my identity stripped away from me.

“No. We want you to look like a nice girl. Not a whore. Hold still.” Marilyn got busy applying browns and beiges to my eyes.

That was fine for people who liked that kind of thing. It was just not me. It made me sick to think of having my whole personality stolen. Like I was nobody now and nothing but a body to use.

I’d thought that the Angels saw me that way once. Now I knew that wasn’t the case at all. They’d wanted me to be theirs because they liked me for me. They wantedme.I’d enjoyed being theirs because of the way they wanted me. I didn’t want to belong to anyone else.

While Marilyn did my makeup, I wondered if I would get a chance to run. If not before the auction, then maybe after. I would do everything possible to escape. I would not be owned by some rich prick.

What kind of people even attended these auctions anyway? Were they twisted maniacs? Lonely as hell? Or did they want a built in sex slave who would cook and clean? The possibilities were endless. They all made me feel sick.

Marilyn finished with my makeup and moved on to my hair. She curled it so it fell in perfect ringlets along my shoulders. Not once did she speak to me. She seemed incredibly detached, wanting nothing to do with me. Fine with me. The way I saw it, she was as bad as Brady and his friends. Even if she was forced to be here, she didn’t have to be so cold and uncaring.

“Put this on.” She shoved a pale blue dress at me.

Relatively plain, the dress had spaghetti straps and a knee length skirt. I was given matching flat shoes. Too bad they weren’t heels. Those could be used as a weapon.

She waited until I’d put on the dress to spray me with a vanilla perfume. It smelled cheap and felt sticky where ittouched my skin. She stepped back to give me a onceover before nodding.

“Good enough. I doubt they’ll really care what you look like. Brady will come to get you when it’s time to leave.”

As Marilyn left the room, I caught sight of Pete lurking in the hall. To make sure I didn’t try to run again. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window through the slats in the bars.

Leaving this house was a good thing. That’s what I told myself. Even if I had to play it safe for a while, at some point, my captor would let his guard down. I would escape. There was no other option in my mind.

It wasn’t long before the door opened again. Brady came in with zip ties. I sat up straighter, stiff with panic.

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