The deeper into the room we get, the harder it becomes to stomach and I drop my gaze to the ground, unable to take it in for a second longer. The room smells of blood, booze, and sex, and the agonizing screams drown out the heavy music. I can’t be here. It’s one thing thinking I’m strong enough to have some sort of power in the boys’ fucked-up mafia world, but this right here is far beyond anything I could have imagined.
Guests begin recognizing the brothers and stopping them to say hi, and as they take me in, they laugh and congratulate the boys on getting themselves a new girl who knows how to keep her mouth shut, leaving me wondering who the hell they brought here before me and what the fuck went down.
A few minutes pass and after more and more men come in to get an up-close-and-personal view of the country’s most feared villains to shake their hand and ask about their dirtiest little secrets, Marcus begins leading me away, keeping me out of the spotlight.
Not having the protection of his two other brothers at my back worries me, but I follow him anyway, more than ready to hide out in the corner of the room. We pass by some questionable things and I do what I can to keep my gaze locked on the ground to appear like the flawless little slave girl who the brothers have trained perfectly.
He leads me right up to a set of stairs, and as he takes the first step, my gaze lifts and widens with horror. “No,” I hiss, pulling back on my wrists as he tries to lead me up the small set of stairs beside one of the many pedestals overlooking the party.
Marcus tugs on my wrist, keeping me moving and skillfully disguising my resistance as an awkward fumble. Having no choice, and damn sure that I don’t want to draw any extra attention to myself, I reluctantly walk up the few steps until I stand on top of the small platform with a hard column at my back.
Marcus puts himself right in front of me, so close that my bondage-style bra presses up against his shirt. “I don’t want to be up here,” I hiss as he reaches around me and takes hold of the small cuffs at either side of the column.
“I know,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. “But it’s our only fucking choice. I can’t babysit you down there, so it’s either be up here where we can watch you from afar, or down in the crowd where you’ll be taken, just so some dumb fucker gets to say that they took what was ours.”
“But—”
“Stop,” he spits through a clenched jaw. “You’re going to make a fucking scene and put a bigger target on your back. Just stand here and look pretty. That’s all you need to do. Don’t look at the people around you. Don’t focus on the dirty fucking pricks getting off at the thought of having your body. Don’t watch the fucking sacrifice across the room, and for fuck’s sake, don’t try to be a goddamn hero because it will only get you killed. Do you understand me?”
I hold his stare and fight the urge to scream before finally nodding, realizing just how right he is. I’m cuffed to the fucking pole at my back, and while it makes me an easy target, if anyone tried something, there’d be no hiding. The boys would see and they’d be able to do something about it. But if I were down in that crowd, it would be all too easy for someone to pull me away.
Marcus finally drops his gaze, releasing me from his strained stare. He crouches down and takes my ankle. It’s not until the cool cuffs are closing around my skin that I realize just how much trouble I’m in. “Marcus,” I plead, my voice so low and terrified. “Please. Don’t. I know you’re still angry about what happened last night, but please don’t cuff my ankles. Don’t leave me completely defenseless.”
He glances up at me and I see the fear in his eyes—the fear of losing me, of anything happening to me here, of walking away when I need him most, but if he is caught going easy on me, he’ll be labeled as weak and the masses will turn on him. His gaze drops away almost as soon as it connects with mine and he takes my other ankle before quickly wrestling it into the cuff, leaving my legs spread apart and on view for everyone to see.
And just like that, Marcus turns his back and walks away, leaving me out on display and free for the taking.
He strides back across the room and I keep my stare on him as he steps in front of the bar and pulls out a joint, lighting it but refraining from taking a drag. I find Roman next, he’s the closest, and while he appears cool, calm, and collected, he’s anything but. His muscles are bunched and tight, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.