Page 8 of Tamed

Ten’s silence spoke volumes. He wasn’t particularly prudish, but he did have very firm ideas about self-control and appropriate behavior. I blamed Sir George, the old man who’d taken him off the streets, for that. Being a father at eighteen likely had something to do with it too.

“No,” he said stiffly. “I’ll pass.”

I grinned at the disapproval in his voice. “I get it. You’re enjoying that stick up your ass too much.”

“If you think I want to watch a young woman auctioning off—”

“You know the process, Ten. The women are vetted thoroughly and all applications are run by me first.”

It had been six months ago that Elizabeth, the club manager, had come to me with a virginity auction request. It had been from the guest of a member and my initial response had been to refuse. A member could do what they wanted, but not a guest. There were too many uncertainties about guests and Arcadia was a play project. I didn’t want it to get complicated.

However, Elizabeth had argued that if we didn’t host her auction the young woman concerned was going to take it somewhere else, to a much sketchier organization or eBay, and at least at Arcadia, with its vetted membership, the woman could have some reassurance that she’d be safe.

I wasn’t in the business of saving people from the consequences of their own bad decisions, but Elizabeth did have a point. So, I’d agreed, along with the caveat that an application process was gone through, and proper legal contracts drawn up.

It had been a tremendous success and the woman had been thrilled with the money she’d earned, which had all gone back to her bar a hosting fee for Arcadia. And after that, we’d had more applications and, in the end, I decided to allow a couple of virginity auctions a month for non-members, on an application only basis.

“I don’t care,” Ten said coldly. “I don’t like it.”

“Luckily, I don’t give a shit whether you like it or not.” I gazed out over the city, Lady Liberty in the distance. “You want Atlas in on this?”

Atlas had links to the Hamiltons. Distant links but links all the same. For all that the Blackwoods were New York royalty, they weren’t exactly pure as the driven snow, and had fingers in more than a few pies.

There was a silence.

“I suppose so,” Ten said at last, sounding reluctant. He was a cagey bastard and even more so when it came to Isabel. “He might know why they’re putting the pressure on now.”

“You know why they’re putting the pressure on now. They want the same as what we do: power. Isabel’s your only kid and they know what she stands to inherit. They want herandFox.”

“You don’t know that. Not for certain.”

I snorted but didn’t rise to that bait either. Some old loyalty to Juliana’s memory kept him thinking the Hamiltons’ interest had more to do with Isabel than his company, but I knew how those old, powerful families worked. I’d planned operations with people them, negotiated with them, did violence for them… They were like wolves. It was all about power and territory.

Of course, they persisted in thinking they were the real alpha wolves in this city. A fundamentally flawed notion that I was going to disabuse them of.

The only alpha wolves in this city were Ten, Atlas, and me.

“So,” I said at last, letting the subject go. “Arcadia. Friday. Nine o’clock.”

“Fine,” Ten said and disconnected the call.

Putting the phone back in my pocket, I glanced back out at the city. Heavy cloud lay over the glittering skyscrapers, promising snow.

Isabel was not going to like being made my responsibility, not one fucking bit.

She’d been enraged with me this morning for calling her out on her lateness, though she’d tried to hide it. Except she wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions. Those big green eyes flashing emerald and her hands curling into fists, her clear voice giving me a smart, sarcastic comeback.

It was wrong of me to enjoy pissing her off yet enjoy it I did. She was such a little firecracker. Lighting her wick and watching her crackle then explode was a pleasure I kept to myself.

Don’t enjoy it too much. You know where it could lead.

I ignored the thought. It would lead precisely nowhere because Ten was one of my oldest and closest friends, and Isabel was his daughter.

Turning away from the window, I strode over to my desk and hit the intercom button. “Sally,” I said. “Cancel my lunchtime meeting. I want Miss Fox up here at one.”

3

Isabel

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