Page 2 of Sold to the Fighter

I take another sip of tea to calm my nerves.

The man is now running his beady eyes over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl with an uneasy feeling.

“You’re a virgin?” he asks abruptly.

I stare at him in shock, unable to wrap my head around his question. “What?”

“Look, you want the job or not?” he sneers, and I notice an accent that wasn’t there before.

“What does working as an assistant have to do with my virginity?”

“You’re too good to work as an assistant,” he responds. “I’m hooking you up with a good-paying gig. Something much better for a pretty girl like you.”

“I don’t—”

“Fifteen hundred bucks, just for the night,” he cuts in, his big lips tilting upward in a smirk.

I clench my jaw, unsure what to make of the offer. While the money sounds too good to be true, I’m starting to realize that this isn’t a job I want to take. But what choice do I really have?

I glance toward the door nervously. The man casually leans back in his chair, and his jacket opens a bit to show a gun in its holster at his side. He smirks when he sees me looking at it.

“I ain’t got time, miss. If you don’t wanna—”

“I’ll do it!” I interrupt quickly, clearing my throat as my cheeks flush with heat. I’ll have to go along with him for now, and escape when I can.

“So, you’re a virgin?” he asks again, raising his bushy brows. “That’s a very important requirement for the job.”

“Y-yes,” I squeak, my cheeks burning hotter.

He nods. “Good. Now finish your tea.”

I go to do as he says, but after only one more sip, the room is spinning. I feel faint, as if I’m going to pass out. My mind is just conscious enough to register what’s happening, and I look down at my cup of tea in horror before darkness creeps into the edges of my vision.

When I wake up, I’m in the passenger seat of a car. The man who drugged me is driving, and we’re pulling up to an old stone building in the middle of nowhere. Is this a church?

Well, that’s ironic.

I almost panic, thinking that somehow this man has found my father and has brought me back to him, but then I realize this doesn’t look like any church I’ve ever been to before. Still, I’m wary, because I know better than anyone how religious backdrops can be used to mask horrific actions.

The man comes around the car to open the door and usher me out. My legs are wobbly, and he grabs my arm roughly. “Don’t even think of trying to run,” he hisses in my ear.

Before I can respond, another man joins us by the car. This one looks like a pirate, a scar slashing through the left side of his face. The two men speak in hushed tones for a few minutes, then the man with a scar turns to look at me, his eyes assessing me in a way that send chills shooting up my spine.

“We’ll take her,” the scar-faced man says, nodding at my captor and passing him an envelope from his pocket.

My heart is drumming loudly in my chest now. What have I gotten myself into? I glance at the chapel again, fear pricking my skin.

A loud engine breaks into my thoughts. I look up in time to see a sleek blue Audi pulling into a space in the parking lot. The engine stops, and the driver steps out of the car—and for a moment I forget how terrifying my situation is.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Dark hair falls casually over his forehead, his face looks like it was sculpted from stone, and his blue eyes glint brightly even in the sparse light that illuminates the walkway up to the door.

For a second, I imagine that he’s here to rescue me. I imagine running over to him and being swept away in his arms like he’s the hero in some movie. I don’t know why I think a stranger will suddenly save the day, but for some strange reason, I feel comforted by his presence.

“Come on, girl,” Scarface snaps irritably. “I don’t got all night.” He jerks roughly on my arm, and I break the brief eye contact I held with the mystery man.

In a flood of shame, I realize that no one is here to save me. I’m on my own. I follow Scarface into the chapel, past the sanctuary, and down a long set of stairs. I imagine what my father would think if he saw me now. I can practically hear his voice in my head, sneering that this is what I deserve for “leaving the path of righteousness.”

I find myself wondering if I’ve managed to escape one devil just to be sold to another.

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