Liam

I circled the drive, pulling up to the valet stand of a nondescript building—sleek, black, no windows. It was imposing, yet it somehow managed to blend into the background. If I hadn’t known this was the address of an exclusive gentlemen’s club, I would have driven past it.

“Welcome to Rendezvous, Mr. Carlyle,” the valet said as he opened my door. “If you step through here, Destiny will ensure you have the best possible experience.”

“Thank you.” I did as directed, somewhat surprised the valet knew me by name, though I should have expected it. Having never attended a high-end club such as this, I could only imagine they would do everything possible to give their clients the personal touch, both literally and figuratively.

A tall woman met me at the door, her large breasts blatantly on display. Her black dress contoured to her every curve, and her impossibly high heels were studded with gold spikes. Objectively, she was striking, but she had nothing on Haley. No woman did.

“Good evening, Mr. Carlyle. I’m Destiny, and I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us. A few matters of business before we get to your pleasure.” She winked. “To ensure the highest level of enjoyment for our guests, we do not permit cell phones or weapons of any kind beyond this point. You can leave the cares of the outside world at the door; all you need while you’re at Rendezvous is your keycard.

“Should you wish to store any personal items—wedding ring, cell phone, wallet—during your visit, we have individual top-of-the line safes for each guest. Will you require one this evening?”

I shook my head. Having anticipated this scenario, I’d come prepared, and my phone was secure in the boot of my car.

“Great. Let me show you around.”

Thanks to Chase’s considerable hacking abilities, I already knew the layout of the building, but I used the tour as an opportunity to familiarize myself with the interior. As we passed through one of the large rooms, I scanned every woman who passed. I knew that running into Haley was highly unlikely, but that didn’t stop me from searching for her face in the crowd.

Although Patrick had given me a brief overview of the operations, thanks to his mysterious contact, I was unprepared for how well-run the club was. From digital valet services to a personal concierge, Rendezvous had gone to great lengths to enhance the experience. The effort was wasted on me; I’d rather be at home on the couch with Haley in my arms.

Finally, Destiny led me down a hall, passing door after door with various gold symbols on them. She paused before one with the outline of a gemstone on it and held up a black keycard. Without numbers or letters, it was different from any access or credit card I’d ever seen.

“As a member of our exclusive Sapphire Club, this gives you access to almost anywhere in Rendezvous. It can be used to enter any of the private rooms we just passed, as well as the VIP areas. If lost, please report it immediately, and we will reissue another. Keycards are collected at the end of each visit.”

She waved the card before a box on the wall, and I followed her into a space that was surprisingly intimate despite its size and opulent decor. Beautiful women in slinky dresses traipsed about the room, taking orders and flirting with the guests. I wasn’t surprised by the number of high-profile businessmen and pro athletes in attendance, and I imagined that many deals were made here.

“Welcome to the Sapphire Club. Would you like a drink, a cigar, or perhaps a companion?”

Even though I didn’t particularly feel like drinking, I ordered a Scotch. The pour was smooth, the amber liquid rolling over my tongue before gliding down my throat.

I watched as a man strode across the room with purpose. He stopped to talk to one of the waitresses, and even with his slicked-back hair and expensive leather shoes, he clearly wasn’t a guest. I studied his face, immediately recognizing him as Vincent DuBois’s son.

The resemblance was uncanny, from the shape of his nose to the way he carried himself, as if he owned the place. He practically did, given the responsibility of managing the jewel in the crown of DuBois’s empire. Clearly, he was being groomed to take over the family business.

“Unless you have any questions,” Destiny said, drawing my attention back to her, “I’ll leave you to enjoy.”

I laid a hand on her forearm as I peered into her unnaturally violet eyes. “I’d like to see the Red Diamond Room.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carlyle, but we don’t have a Red Diamond Room.” Just as I’d expected.

“That’s a shame. From what I’ve heard, red is the most expensive and rare color of diamonds in the world. I’d love to see one sometime.” I repeated the phrase Uncle’s contact had promised would guarantee access to the auction, an auction that was typically available to a select group of members by invitation only.

Her eyes widened before she recovered and gave me a knowing grin. “My, my, you’re well-informed.”

“And my bank account is well-padded, as the Sapphire Club already knows.”

She pulled me to the side, ensuring we weren’t at risk of being overheard. “This opportunity is not available to everyone. The women are stunning, and it’s highly competitive.”

“I enjoy a bit of sport.” I raised an eyebrow, doing the bare minimum to turn on the charm. I was impatient, my manners borderline brusque, but I didn’t give a shit. If anything, it was probably expected considering the part I was playing.

She cocked her head to the side, weighing her options, and I could tell the moment she made her decision. “Well, in that case, please follow me.”

She swiped her employee key card and led me through a narrow hallway to a smaller chamber. There were fewer chairs, and only one was occupied, the man sitting in it currently engrossed in a large album resting on his lap. Across the room, a woman leaned against the bar, studiously ignoring the man behind her.

Dressed in all black, he was a high-end bouncer, if I had to hazard a guess. I knew security was ever-present in a place like this, but for the most part it had been well-hidden, discreet. And while they could have relied solely on cameras or other technological measures in this room, the club had found it necessary to have a visible presence as well. Interesting.

“Please take a seat, and I’ll get a portfolio for you to peruse.”

I made myself comfortable in one of the empty chairs. Even with the dark walls, I had a clear view of all exits, making it an ideal spot. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Destiny spoke in hushed tones with the man in black. He studied me for a few moments before exiting through a door and returning with a black portfolio that he handed to Destiny.

With a tight smile, she sauntered across the room and offered me the leather portfolio. “The auction isn’t until later this week, so you have plenty of time to contemplate your selection or selections. You may take as long as you wish, but the portfolio may not leave this room.” I nodded my understanding before she sauntered off.

I downed the rest of my Scotch and readied myself for the task ahead. While I imagined many men would kill to be in my position, all I could feel was a sense of dread. Women were being sold for money, and I could only hope Haley wasn’t among them.

A waitress replaced my empty glass with a fresh pour, and I opened the cover, bracing for the worst. The first sheet contained an overview of the auction procedures, including the date of the event, method for bidding, and details for claiming a prize. Everything about it was degrading to women, viewing them as property to “fulfill the desires of the highest bidder.”

Still, I’d been sent here to complete a task. This was our first, our only, viable lead and we had to know. It had been four long days since Haley disappeared, and the longer she was gone . . . don’t go there.

I turned the page, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when the girl pictured wasn’t Haley. It felt wrong, viewing such intimate photos—there were no statistics, no names, and no information beyond an item number and a photograph or two.

The subtleties of her body language, the flat look in her eyes and rigid posture, told me everything I needed to know. While most viewers probably wouldn’t pick up on it, or worse still, they’d get off on it, it was all I could see.

My fingers itched to hasten my progress and be done with this odious task, but I resisted. As I flipped through image after image, there was a sour taste in my mouth, and it wasn’t from the forty-year-old Scotch.

Nearing the end of the catalog, I turned the page and stopped cold. Haley was staring back at me, only it wasn’t the Haley I knew and loved. Dressed in a sheer white babydoll, her eyes were filled with anger, determination, and . . . fear.

I ground my teeth, forcing myself to take deep breaths and remain seated instead of ripping the portfolio to shreds. I wouldn’t get the answers I needed if I mauled the man across the room for daring to look at her in his own album. Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, knowing I had to bide my time and play my cards right, not kill everyone in this room.

How had this happened? There were five of us looking after her, not to mention the fact that Haley was more than capable of defending herself. Yet, we had failed her. I had failed her.

Fuck. I wanted to smash something, someone. When a second man in black appeared, and the bouncer moved to leave, I waited a few moments before seizing my opportunity. Despite his head start, I followed the bouncer down a series of corridors, careful to keep my distance, even as he slipped through an unmarked door. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and I was grateful he hadn’t taken the lift, which was more likely to be monitored by camera. Still, it was a risk, and I crept down after him, hoping my recollection of the blueprints was correct.

When I emerged into a back alley, I wondered where he’d gone, until I noticed wisps of smoke from behind the dumpsters. After he’d stubbed out his cigarette, I snuck up behind him, locking my arm around his neck and holding the other behind his back. He struggled against me, but I tightened my hold and he eventually relented.

“What do you want?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“Answers,” I spat. “The girls in the auction, where are they?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Why do you care? Judging from your fancy accent, you have the money to buy whichever one you want come Friday.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” I said in a tone I didn’t recognize. “Where the fuck are they?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, I twisted his arm to the point that he let out a pained yelp. “All right, shit. There’s a house outside the city where the girls are held. But, I don’t know where it is,” he hastened to add.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, man, I’m sure. I don’t know anything else. I swear.”

Convinced he was telling the truth, I loosened my hold and shoved him toward the dumpster. I straightened my suit and tie before striding off in the direction of my car, certain he wouldn’t report me. What would he have to gain in doing so? At the very least, he’d get sacked. At worst, well, knowing the kind of organization DuBois ran, I could only guess.

I pulled a second fob from my pocket and slid into my car. The valet could keep my spare key, for all I cared; Chase would just program another.

I sped away from Rendezvous, even though I was in no rush to update the guys . . . and Haley’s father. I cringed. I still didn’t think he cared for me, for any of us. If we couldn’t guarantee her safety, how would he ever trust us with her heart?

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel as I sped down the highway toward Uncle’s. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A house outside the city? That could be anywhere.

The one good thing to come from the evening was that Haley’s photograph confirmed she was alive. Alive, but what horrors had she been subjected to?

Although I could certainly “win” her at the auction, it was too far away. Basically, we were back at square one. Only now, I was going to be haunted by the image of Haley in that bloody negligee. More than ever, I regretted not telling her I loved her when I had the opportunity. I just hoped I’d be granted another chance.