The Pawn (Endgame 1)

The air in the pantry seems to get thinner. “I see.”

“Don’t worry. A hymen is more rare around here than whips or chains could ever be. Hopefully you’ll keep them entertained for the whole month.”

“Whips and…chains?” My stomach clenches hard.

“Well, the auction begins at nine p.m. We’ll start the drinks flowing before that to make sure they’re loose with their wallets. You should arrive by seven to get you ready.”

Two hours is a long time to get dressed. “Are you sure I need—”

“I’m sure,” he says, almost cheerful. “I’ll see you then.”

The click over the line seals my fate.Chapter TenIn ancient mythology the Minotaur was a creature with the head of a bull and the body of a man. He lived at the center of a maze. Athens had to send seven young men and seven unwed girls as a sacrifice on a ship.

In my case the maze is the Den, which looms high in the dusky sky, orange rays of sunset split by the intricate turrets. There’s only one sacrifice this Saturday night.

Someone waits at the curb to take my keys. I wobble on my heels for only a moment before catching myself. The last thing I need are skinned knees as I go in front of the wealthiest men in the city. Then I’m standing in the foyer, marveling as people bustle around. I hadn’t quite realized how much of a production this would be, but with that much money on the line, it makes sense. My stomach pitches with nerves because I’m going to be at the center of this hurricane.

Damon emerges from a door, looking sharp in a three-piece suit. He’s one of many turns I’ll take tonight, going deeper into the maze. Only at the end will I find out who’s won the auction. Only then will I meet the Minotaur.

“The woman of the evening,” he says warmly.

A shiver runs through me. That sounds ominous. I force myself to smile. “I’m not sure it will take me two hours to get ready, though.”

He laughs. “Candy asked for the whole day. I told her she’d have to make do.”

“Candy?”

“Ivan’s girl. She’ll be the one taking care of you.”

Ivan Tabakov? I’ve heard his name spoken, but only in whispers. And didn’t his wife used to strip at one of his clubs? I guess I couldn’t ask for a better guide in the art of selling sex to dangerous men, but I’m almost more afraid of her than the men. This is a different world, requiring a different set of skills than the ones I’ve been building my whole life.

He directs me up the stairs and into the room where the photographs were taken.

A woman tinkers with makeup brushes on a small table against the window. I have the impression of beautiful blonde hair, long and flowing enough to make her a fairy-tale princess. Her hair might seem innocent, but her body is pure sin. The dress she wears clings to her body, accentuating her perfect curves. Good Lord. She won’t be at the auction, will she? As soon as a man sees her, he won’t want me. Of course, I doubt the crime boss Ivan Tabakov would be willing to share his wife.

She turns, and I’m struck breathless by her face—by the perfect heart-shaped prettiness, by the wide blue eyes. Based on the piles of makeup on the table, I had expected something over-the-top, but hers is perfectly placed to emphasize her features.

“Avery,” she says, smiling. “Come in. I won’t bite, I promise.”

I relax by the smallest inch because she does seem genuine. In the hallowed halls I usually walk, many women will tear you down if they can get away with it. I’m so used to it that it’s a shock to see someone I don’t know with sympathy in her eyes. “Thank you. I’m kind of freaking out on the inside.”

She reaches around me to shut the door. “We’ll make those bad old men wait until you’re good and ready to see them. In the meantime we’ll get you cleaned up.”

I flush because she makes it sound like I’m something the cat dragged in. I can’t even disagree with that assessment. Next to her I feel completely unsophisticated. “What are you going to do to me?”

Her laugh sprinkles over me like fairy dust. God, no wonder the scary mobster fell for her. “That depends on what you need, of course. Let’s get that dress off and see what we’re working with.”

I pulled a designer evening gown out of the back of my closet, one I first wore to a senator’s inaugural dinner with Justin at my side. It shows off one shoulder and has a high slit. Justin was in awe of me that night—but maybe that was manufactured, just like he pretended to care about me.