Page 62 of Auctioned Surrender

“Hi, Dereck. I haven’t seen you in a while and didn’t hear that you were staying here tonight.”

“It was a last-minute decision. Can you do me a favor and park the car in the preferred lot?”

“Sure thing, Dereck. Just let us know if you need it, and we’ll have it brought round right away.”

“Thanks, Ramon. There are a few bags in the trunk. If you wouldn’t mind having someone send them up to our room, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” Ramon says, grinning, while Layla’s eyebrows raise. I don’t answer her unspoken question. My team and I spying on her and the friend she had place them there while she was dancing won’t sit well, and some things are just better left unsaid.

I step out of the car and walk around to the driver's side. Layla has the window rolled down, and she’s still sizing up the situation. “Do you have a card with the valet number in case I want to leave sooner than planned?” Layla asks Ramon, who tries to hide his amusement at the sassy beauty behind the wheel.

“I sure do, Miss,” he says, stepping around and handing her one of the valet cards they usually reserve for customers who don’t live on the property.

I open the door for her and extend my hand. The change in her breath as she takes my hand tells me she’s as affected by my touch as I am to touching her delectable skin.

“Have a good night, and don’t take the car too far away,” I say to Ramon, as Layla looks on with amusement.

“I won’t be gone for more than a couple of hours! My date’s going to love this car,” Ramon jokes. He’s grinning from ear to ear, but his eyes go completely wide as Layla steps out of the car in her thigh-high sparkly red robe and stilted heels.

“Have fun with your date, Ramon,” I say, placing my hand on Layla’s lower back, ignoring the slack mouth of the valet at the sight of the half-dressed beauty as we walk past him and toward the red-faced bellman who greets us at the door.

“Alfred, can you give me a buzz if anyone enters the private elevator tonight? I’m not expecting anyone, especially this late, but that doesn’t mean one of the guys won’t stop by.”

“Will do, Dereck.”

We’re in the elevator and almost up to the penthouse before Layla says a word. Her breathing has increased, and her eyes are swirling with emotion. “I didn’t plan to walk through a reception area in my underwear and a robe that barely covers my ass.”

“It bothers you what people think?” I ask gently, touching her cheek with my finger as the elevator takes us upward.

Layla doesn’t answer, but her eyes tell me everything she doesn’t want to say. “What they think doesn’t matter, princess. Come on; let’s get you inside and settled for the night,” I tell her as the door opens. I lead her into the penthouse's hardwood covered living area and watch as her breath catches, taking in the view of the city from the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the room.

“What a spectacular view,” Layla says, walking toward the windows as I head to the dining room.

“It’s one of the best in Chicago. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please, I’d love one after a night like tonight.”

I pour a glass for Layla and grab water out of the refrigerator for myself. She walks toward the kitchen and settles herself on a barstool before tucking her short red robe underneath her thighs. Layla's legs go on for days and end with slinky ankles and adorned with the straps of her sexy high heels that make it more than difficult for me to focus on anything else.

She continues to enjoy the view while I let the power of our chemistry and my primal attraction to her settle around us. I take a drink from the bottle of water and watch her lips caress the rim of her wine glass.

“Not drinking tonight?” she asks, nodding toward my bottle.

“No, I’m on call in the city tonight, so none for me. Why don’t we start with you telling me what you know about Bryanna? I have it on good authority things aren’t looking so good for yourfriend right now. I think you know a lot more than you’re letting on. You care to tell me about it?”

She purses her lovely lips at me. “We don’t need to play games, papi. The people who run that club are into more than paying girls to dance. They snatch women off the street, coerce them, or whatever it takes to get their filthy hands on them. Bryanna is the type of girl the European group is looking for, and she’ll bring in big dollars. If you’ve lived in this city for any length of time you know Bernatelli is behind most things illegal or has a financial interest in them, but everything’s hush-hush about his involvement with trafficking. Word on the street is that he doesn’t touch that business, but I’ve never believed that, but Larry confirmed it.”

“So you gave me the information we needed, and we’re taking care of Bryanna. Why not run if that’s all you were trying to do?”

“Why bring me here instead of helping me get to Bernatelli before we lose the element of surprise? We could still go,” Layla snaps back, altogether avoiding the question.

“And do what, Layla? What did you have planned for tonight? Find out where he sends all the women? How he gets paid? What is it that you’re looking for, princess? Tell me that, and perhaps I’ll help you. But letting you walk into a dangerous situation on my watch without a well-developed plan isn’t likely to occur, especially in your very sexy attire,” I say, letting my eyes wander down the length of her delectable body.

Layla’s eyes instinctively lower. Her nipples harden to peaks underneath the silky robe as she contemplates an answer, causing my cock to throb with desire for the fiery dark-haired beauty with a submissive aura that calls to my dominant side with a force that I’ve never experienced.

“I want to help the rest of the girls at the club too. I come from the wrong side of the tracks. I know how to handle myself. The others? They’ve never seen the city's underbelly orthe horror that lives just past their beautiful suburbs. They’re too frightened to do anything more than obey their captors once they’ve been kidnapped. There are more and more girls taken every single day. I’m sick of Bernatelli and his entire army stealing women off the street and then selling them to the highest bidder. I can stop it, si, papi? With one well-placed move, I can stop it,” Layla says, reaching into her purse and showing me the shiny steel of her blade.

I slide onto the barstool next to her, watching her chest rise with each lovely inhalation of her breath. I push a lock of her long dark hair off her shoulder so I can see her face. “Look at me, Layla.” I drawing her to me with a slight touch to her chin.

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