I lean back in my large black leather chair and look out the wall-sized window, staring out across the city.

It’s the middle of the day and already I’m exhausted. I’ve barely slept over the last month as my company, World Line Inc., has gone through some enormous structural changes. We acquired one of our smaller competitors, and in the process we’ve had to change things up to fit their new employees and manufacturing.

It’s been exhausting, but the end is almost near. And when we’re finished, World Line will be one of the largest manufacturing tech companies in the world.

I sigh, stretching. I crack my neck and lean back, groaning. I feel like a man twice my age, although I’m only thirty-two. I’ve spent the majority of my life so far, from when I was just a college dropout at the age of twenty to now, building this company and growing it aggressively. I started out with a simple idea, a tweak to the manufacturing process, and grew it into a world-wide conglomerate.

I sacrificed a lot to get where I am. The magazines all like to call me the most eligible bachelor under forty, but I rarely ever feel that way. I fucked my way through the socialite scene, because I don’t have time to spend on getting close to women.

But where has that left me? I can’t help but wonder sometimes if things would be better if I gave a woman more than just one night. Maybe not a relationship, because I’m not interested in getting fucking tied down, but something. I don’t know what. A friendship, a fuck buddy. Hell, I barely have time for anything outside of the business these days.

I lean back and put my hands on the back of my head, sighing. It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. I have enough money to retire and live a rich life at this point, but I know I’m never going to. That’s not the type of man that I am.

Settling down isn’t something I want. I work hard and I play hard when I get the time. I live to win and to dominate everything around me, that’s how I’ve gotten to where I am. Thinking too hard about my life won’t do any good, not at this point.

As I’m about to turn back to my desk and get back to these contracts, my cellphone buzzes. I pick it up and unlock the screen, cocking my head at the message.

It’s from a blocked number. Which is unusual, because I have my phone set up to block all incoming messages from blocked numbers.

But that’s not the weirdest part. As I read the message, I can’t help but think I’ve been transported to some new universe.

Dear Mr. Locks, You are cordially invited to bid on the most beautiful women on the market. This auction is only for men of means and power. It is a private event. If interested, simply respond to this message. You were invited by one Mr. Range. See him for any questions. Respond in twenty-four hours. Cordially, The Syndicate.

I read the message over twice before I start to understand what it’s saying.

It’s an invitation to a human auction. I’ve heard about these things, but only as whispers. It’s said that there are places where only the most attractive women are sold for high prices and long periods of time. It’s a way to buy a wife or a mistress even, or maybe just a girlfriend for a week.

I never went looking for these auctions because I never needed to. I know that some of my peers engage in them, because it’s easier to buy a woman for a week than it is to pick one up, but I usually like the chase. It’s fun to seduce and be seduced. These escorts, they’re just a way to fuck and be done with it.

I have no clue why Mack invited me to this auction. Mack Range is one of my closest friends and the owner of a company we often do business with. We’ve been to several parties together and he knows I have no trouble getting women when I want them.

Annoyed, I quickly call Mack up. He answers on the third ring.

“Locks!” he says. “What do you want? I thought you were too busy to talk right now.”

“I just got a really strange message, Mack. From The Syndicate. Know about it?”

There’s a pause, and for a second I think we got disconnected. When Mack finally speaks, he sounds hurried and distracted.

“Let’s meet for lunch,” he says. “I’m buying. We’ll talk about it then.”

“Mack,” I grumble. “You know I can’t. Just tell me what the deal is with this.”

“We can’t talk about it over the phone,” he says softly. “Luciano’s at two. Okay?”

I pause, head cocked. What’s so damn important that we can’t talk about it over the phone?

But then again, the message did say that it was very private. It wasn’t threatening, not exactly, but there’s always a veiled threat when secrecy is involved. It’s always keep this secret, or else.

I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Mack has good taste and has never steered me wrong before. Plus, this secrecy thing has me interested. I want to know more about it now just because I’m not supposed to talk about it.

“Fine,” I say. “You’re definitely buying.”

“See you then.” He hangs up quickly.

I put my phone down and shake my head, not sure what to make of this.

It’s out of nowhere. I was at a party with Mack maybe two months ago, before this merger got too insane. We were talking about women and relationships, and he did say something a little strange. He mentioned paying top dollar for a girlfriend at the time, which I assumed meant that he just pays for lunches and hotel rooms. I laughed and said I was always looking for a deal.

Maybe this is what he was talking about. Maybe he meant he literally pays top dollar.

I’ve never bought pussy before. I never had to. But then again, Mack never has either, or at least I didn’t think he needed to. He’s around my age, a little less rich, but still pretty handsome. I’ve never seen him struggle bringing a woman home before.

If he’s paying for it from these people, it must be serious. Still, the idea of paying for it just seems so strange and foreign to me.

The day passes quickly as I dive back into work. It’s one forty-five by the time I look up again and have to practically run downstairs to get into the company car that takes me over to Luciano’s, a little Italian place on the edge of town.

I’m uncertain as I climb out of the car and instruct the driver to wait for me. I don’t think I’ll stay the whole lunch, considering the mountain of paperwork I have back at the office waiting for me. Besides, this whole thing is about prostitutes, and I’m just... not that interested.

I feel strangely nervous as I step into Luciano’s. I’m not sure why, since Mack is one of my closest friends, but there’s something about this whole thing that has me on edge. The hostess points me to a private booth in the back corner, away from the normal lunch crowd.

I slide into the booth across from Mack. “Didn’t think you’d show,” he says.

“I keep my appointments.” He grins and we shake hands.

Mack has that young boyish charm about him. His beard is close cropped and trimmed, and he always looks very put together. I remember when he first got started, the guy couldn’t wear anything but sweatshirts and jeans. Now he’s in a three-piece suit with an expensive watch. It’s almost like that programmer punk from back in the day doesn’t exist anymore.

I’ve changed over the years, too. I’m just as driven as I once was, but all my youthful naiveté has been beaten out of me. You don’t get this far in business without learning how the world works and how to master it. That inevitably changes a man.

“So, what’s good here?” I ask him.

“The martinis.” He grins.

“Can’t. I have work to do.”

“I bet. All the more reason.” Mack signals at the waitress and she brings over two drinks, obviously already prepared.

I sigh and take mine, thanking her, and take a sip. It’s a good martini, and I can’t help but wonder why Mack is buttering me up.

“Okay, Ethan,” he says. “Before you yell at me, just listen.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to yell.”

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“You know the one.” He smirks at me. “It’s the ‘I’m a disappointed CEO’ look. Doesn’t work on me, but it can be fucking intimidating anyway.”

“Didn’t know I had a look,” I say, laughing. “But go ahead. Give me your pitch.”

He leans toward me, getting serious all of a sudden. “The pitch is simple. You won’t be disappointed.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

He nods. “That’s it. If you do this thing, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m a little disappointed right now. I expected some kind of hard sell.”

“I don’t need to,” he says, shrugging. “Truth is, you’re lucky to get invited.”

“Lucky?” I give him a look. “I don’t need to pay for pussy, you know.”

“Oh, I know that.” He sips his martini and eyes me. “But that’s not what we’re talking about.”

I pause, not sure what he means. “The text said an auction,” I say.

“It’s an auction and it’s for women, but it’s not just for pussy.”

“What else to they do?” I ask. “Clean your house?”

“Maybe,” he says, a serious look on his face. “Truth is, man, they’ll do whatever you want. For as long as you’re paying. And these girls, they’re beautiful. Untouched. Unspoiled. They’re not a bunch of old pros. They’re... special.”

I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. He’s talking like he’s in love with these girls or something. They’re still just people, just women, and I can’t imagine that they’re anything amazing.

I have to admit, I was picturing a bunch of old and used-up hookers, but that’s probably not fair. High-end escorts tend to be young and beautiful. But he’s making it sound like these are real virgins or something like that.

“Have you gone?” I ask him.

“Absolutely.”

“Why?” I ask, mystified. “You don’t have trouble bringing women home.”

“It’s hard to explain,” he says softly. “When you buy these girls... you own them. It’s like every fantasy you’ve ever had all rolled into one, and you get them for as long as you want them.”

“I don’t have time to buy anyone,” I say, laughing again, although Mack doesn’t find it funny. “This just isn’t the time.”

“This is the perfect time. Whoever you bring home will be there, in your house, waiting for you. If you don’t touch her, that’s your choice, and it won’t matter. This is no work, no fuss, no bullshit. Just an attractive companion that’s down for anything.”

I have to admit, he’s making it sound enticing. Maybe it’s the martini, but I do like the idea of a beautiful woman waiting for me to come home, ready to be dominated and willing to do whatever I ask of her.

I finish my martini in one quick motion. “Last question. This Syndicate. Are they dangerous?”

He nods once. “They are. But only if you cross them. If you decide not to attend, just delete the message and never speak of this again. Including to me.”

“You’re serious?” I ask.

“I’m very serious.”

“Okay then,” I say. “This is the last time we’ll talk about it.” I slide out of the booth and stand up.

“You’re making a mistake,” Mack says.

“I’m not so sure that I am.”

“You are.” He stares me in the eye. “Go to the auction. Trust me. You won’t regret it.”

I watch him for a second. “I’ll see you later, Mack.”

He nods and goes back to his martini as I leave the restaurant and head back outside. The driver is still waiting for me, and I climb into the back of the car.

For the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about what Mack said. He seemed so earnest, so serious, and it’s hard to ignore that sort of thing. Mack isn’t the type of man to bullshit or exaggerate. If he says something is a certain way, you can be pretty damn sure that it’s a certain way.

Which makes it so intriguing. Even more than that, the fact that The Syndicate is dangerous, and how seriously he takes them, makes me even more fascinated. This is a secret world hiding underneath our world, and I’m being given a glimpse. I can choose to turn back and ignore it all, or I can dive in and join it.

I don’t know why I can’t get it out of my head. I have been stressed lately, very stressed, and maybe a little meaningless sex will do me good. I could use the release at the very least. Mack makes it sound like a gift from heaven or something like that, and maybe he’s right.

It’s around two in the morning by the time I finish my day’s work and break out a bottle of whisky. I pour a drink into a glass and kick my feet up on my desk. There’s a couch against the far wall and my own private bathroom with a shower, and I know I’ll be sleeping on that couch and showering in that shower again tonight. I could go home, but I have to be here at five anyway. No point in wasting time that I could be using on sleep.

But I don’t feel like sleeping. I read the message on my phone again and go over the conversation with Mack as I sip my drink. I keep picturing women, beautiful women, but that’s not all. I keep seeing this one perfect girl in my head. She’s petite, quiet, maybe even a little shy, but sexy as all hell. She’s willing to do anything for me. She’ll let me dominate her, control her, work her body, and she’ll give back as much as she possibly can.

And all I have to do is show up and buy her. No work beyond that. No messy flirting or awkward ending. I buy her, we spend our time together, and then it’s over. No attachment and no issues.

The idea of paying for sex still seems strange to me, but I can’t help myself. Everything is pushing me toward this moment. I get out my phone and text the number back, agreeing to their terms.

I sit there, staring at my phone, not sure what I just did.

But most of all, I’m excited at the prospect of entering into something new. I don’t know what will happen next, but I’m trusting Mack. I hope I’m not disappointed.