Page 1 of Bratva Daddies for the Single Mom

1

ANNIE

What was I doing here? Heat swept along my skin, followed by a rush of air so cold that goosebumps pebbled on my bare arms. A line of girls stretched out in front of me, more filing in behind, causing an increase in voices until the noise clanged around in my head. It almost pushed down my fear. Almost.

“Smile.” A woman with a clipboard walked up and down the line. She wore a tasteful suit in navy blue, the tiny pinstripes glittering silver in the muted lighting. “These men want to see your confidence as well as your bodies. Show them you are capable, and you will have the best night of your life.”

I snorted quietly, covering the sound by turning my head toward the black wall. I peeked over my shoulder, my gaze snagging on a beautiful woman with black hair. Her red dress was shorter than mine, barely covering her ass, and she’d made it obvious that she hadn’t bothered with underwear.

My throat itched with a sudden, convulsive need to gulp a gallon of water. My hands fisted at my sides, my fingers curling into the hem of my green dress. I’d chosen it because it made my green eyes glitter like gemstones. The spaghetti strapsbared my arms, and the plunging V neckline showed off my tits. My nipples pebbled in the frigid air, and I cursed Tina for convincing me not to bother with the nipple pasties. What the actual fuck was I doing agreeing to attend an auction where the winning bidder gained access to my body for the night?

I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath that strained the dress’s stitching. I was here because I had no way to pay my part of the rent, and my car had finally broken down past the point of no return.

“Can you believe it?” a woman’s voice squealed out in front of me. “I’m going to have some fat stacks by tomorrow.” She giggled, and her heels tapped with the sound of dancing. “I’ve done two of these auctions already, and I can tell you, I’m not about to stop.”

Another voice joined in, this one a bit deeper, with hints of cynicism. “Don’t count on getting bids every time. The men here are wealthy, but they’re not stupid. They like to see fresh girls come through.”

“Fresh?” The word slipped out before I stopped myself. “I thought it was anonymous.”

“It is.” This came from behind me, and I popped my eyes open, turning to face the black-haired woman. “That’s why there’s a base rate for showing up. Can’t guarantee you’ll get a bid, but they want us to keep coming back, even if we’re not chosen.”

Right. The base rate. It was enough to help with rent, but it wouldn’t cover a car or the continued care of my twin daughters. Being a traveling masseuse to Fortune 500 clientele gave me flexibility and job security, but not enough money when my landlord decided to double my rent.

“First time?” The black-haired woman gave me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be taken care of.” She leaned in close and whispered into my ear. “I’ve heard theclientele tonight are incredibly wealthy. And they follow the rules.”

Noise from the stage ahead of me blocked the rest of the woman’s words. A blonde woman strutted across the narrow gap in the curtains shielding the clients from seeing us. The blonde tossed her hair and popped her hand on her hip in a modeling pose I recognized. She bent at the waist and blew a kiss toward the crowd. A dull roar began, followed by numbers being volleyed back and forth by a man behind a lectern.

I tried to process everything happening around me, but panic had me by the throat and my ears rang with echoes of fear. Why had I let Tina talk me into this? As my roommate, I trusted her, and this whole auction thing had seemed like a good idea at the time. Standing in my tiny dress with my body exposed in a way I’d not allowed since the one-night stand in college that ended with me pregnant, I regretted turning down Tina’s offer of a loan. Her bartending job didn’t pay well enough for me to mooch off her goodwill. I had learned to stand on my own, and I’d be damned if I gave up that freedom. Even if it meant strutting across a stage and hoping a man liked what he saw enough to make a bid for me.

One night. I reminded myself of that over and over as woman after woman walked onto the stage, took a few laps around, and was led off the other side, where they disappeared up a set of steps.

I didn’t have time for relationships. But one night with a man… I could handle that. Ihadto handle it. Deep inside, all the fear and uncertainty congealed into a painful knot that threatened to send me hurtling to the nearest bathroom. I stiffened my spine and rolled my shoulders back.

“Oh.” A woman ahead of me slapped a hand over her mouth. “You won’t believe what I heard!”

“What?” Women all around me hissed the question.

“Tonight’s auction is special. Not the typical money men. These guys are top-tier. We’re talking millionaires. Billionaires.” She winked. “Mafia.”

My breath clogged in my throat. Mafia? Surely not. I mean, I knew they existed, but why would they behere?

“The CEO from Atlas is supposed to be here,” another woman added. ‘I heard it from my best friend who works at the company.”

“Shit.” I muttered the curse under my breath. I knew the CEO from Atlas. I’d given him a massage last year. He’d paid for his entire staff to have massages, and I’d spent a week there. Would he remember me? Recognize me?

“I heard the Chicago Bratva are behind it.” The black-haired woman behind me joined the conversation. “They’re the ones who pay for the setup, and they charge a hella cover fee for the men to come here and make their bids. That’s why it’s all anonymous. And why it’s just one night.”

“Well.” A redhead tossed her hair over her shoulder and smirked. “I plan on finding someone who can’t live without me. Can you imagine being the Pretty Woman to one of them?” She flicked her fingers toward the stage. “I’d never have to work again.”

“Except in bed.” Someone snorted beneath their breath.

“It’s no more than we’re doing already,” the redhead shot back.

“Yeah. Except tonight, we’re protected,” another voice hissed.

“I don’t give a fuck who paid for it.” Yet another woman made her point with a muttered string of curses. “These men are rich. Who cares if they’re criminals too? As long as we get our money. I’m not here to discuss morality or any other shit. Their money spends just as good. No one is innocent anymore.” Red lips twisted in a sardonic smile.

Criminals? My heart roared in my ears, pumping blood so fast I almost lost my balance in the dizzying rush. I shouldn’t be here. Unlike the last woman, I did have issues mingling with criminals. My five-year-old daughters were innocent. I couldn’t be found out to have dealings with Mafia, criminals, or anything that risked them being taken from me. So why did I stay in line, my hands knotted over my stomach and my feet frozen to the floor?

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