I tried to keep track of where we were going from the backseat of the limo, but I quickly got lost. We weren’t heading down any of the main roads that I knew, and we weren’t going in the direction of the Strip. It didn’t bother me, though. I drained the last champagne out of my glass. I only allowed myself one glass since I didn’t want to get sloppy on my first night out in forever. Even though my enjoyment of time with Kovalev increased in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed, I wanted my wits about me if I was going to be out in public.

The limo rolled north as the sun sank behind the mountains to the west. Lights along the roof bathed the interior of the limousine in purple. Soon I realized we had arrived in an industrial part of town, filled with huge warehouses, and almost entirely devoid of people at this hour. I felt my heart start to beat a little faster as I wondered why I would need to be in such an elegant dress out here.

We slowed and came to a stop in front of one of a dozen anonymous, squat, gray buildings. The only thing that separated this one from its neighbors were the two men bulging out of their suits flanking the door. The cool night air rushed in as the driver opened my door and offered me his hand. I stepped out cautiously. Even given what I had been through since I came into Kovalev’s orbit, this was strange. And strange was frightening. I hated my regular life. It was monotonous and unpleasant. But at least it was predictable, safe. All of the excitement I had felt earlier in the evening at the prospect of a luxurious night out had twisted into apprehension, although my imagination seemed unable to come up with a plausible scenario of what would await me past the twin guardians at the door that I was quickly escorted toward.

One of them opened the door for me without a word, revealing a deep darkness inside. The other held his arm to his mouth and said something too low for me to hear. Announcing my arrival, no doubt. The driver took me by the arm and led me into the inky blackness. Once the door was shut behind us and all light had been extinguished, I started to get really scared. Something about the formless dark, the infinite shapes of fear that it could hide, was more frightening than any monster, any flesh-bound terror could be. But just as soon as I had caught my heart in my throat, a thin line of light emerged from in front of me. It grew, swelling into an amber glow that pooled around an inner door. The driver squeezed my arm and prodded me forward. I walked, trancelike, toward the light.

The sight that greeted me when I came to the door snapped me out of my negative thoughts in an instant. That amber glow emanated from dozens of tall lanterns that filled a space about twice the size of a tennis court. It was a party. Some kind of underground, invite-only party like you only read about after the fact. There was a bar at the far end of the room with two bartenders busy cleaning glasses. Dozens of bottles of what I was sure would be top shelf liquor were on shelves behind them. Around the circumference were couches, dark leather and deeply cushioned, set up around low tables. In a ring within them were standing tables, the kind you could rest a drink or an elbow on as you mingle and chat over hors d’oeurves. Finally, in the innermost circle, several rows of chairs sat serried around a small, raised platform. The lighting was warm and soft. The whole room seemed completely out of place given the building it was in, but maybe that was the point. If you were going to have an exclusive, invite-only party, and you didn’t want any press or looky-loos to know what was going on, it was a good disguise.

As I looked around the room, taking in the luxurious furnishings and the well-dressed staff, it occurred to me that there were no other guests there. Was I the first to arrive? Suddenly, despite the warm light and the heat lamps hanging overhead, I felt a chill in the pit of my stomach. My stomach then turned itself into knots as a severely beautiful woman in a dark gray pant suit strode purposefully across the room. Right toward me.

“Ms. Dupre?”

I nodded. I felt weak. My neck felt like rubber and I wondered that my head stayed upright.

“Come with me.” Without waiting for my assent, she turned around and walked toward the back of the room. I hesitated for a moment, but a little push from the driver set me on my way and I followed along in her wake.

She led me to a narrow corridor that led to a brightly-lit room. It was the opposite of the room I had just left, spare and ugly. Vinyl padded chairs lined the walls. Half were filled with young women in evening gowns. Most had empty, vacant expressions, but others looked as scared as I felt. The severe woman pointed to a chair and, not knowing what else to do, I sat down.

I opened my mouth to ask her what was going on, but she had already exited the room. I looked around the rest of the women, but nobody would meet my eyes.

“What is going on here? Why are we all here?” I asked to nobody in particular.

No response.

I kept scanning the room, trying to engage one of the others, but no luck. I sank back onto my chair’s hard back and took a deep breath. This was not what I had expected, to say the least. And now, fear of what was to come had burrowed itself deep inside of me, clawing at my intestines with icy hands.

Nobody talked. I joined the other women and sat in silence for what felt like an hour. The whole time, my heart was beating so fast and hard that I was sure it could be heard around the room. Not that anyone seemed to notice. Eventually, I could hear new noises. The low thudding sound of dozens of feet treading on the concrete floor, the hazy drone of muffled conversations, and then the rhythmic pulse of the baseline of some song I couldn’t pick out. There was a party after all, but it was clear that neither I nor the rest of my voiceless companions would be guests. My mind conjured up all sorts of scenarios about my role in this affair, none of them were very appealing. But when the severe woman returned, she revealed that the truth went well beyond my imagination.

It was an auction.

I was going to be paraded up in front of the crowd and sold to the highest bidder.

“Now, it is important for you to smile, but don’t smile too broadly. You don’t want to look like a grinning fool. A subtle, mysterious look. You want to be alluring, not eager.”

The other faces in the room wore vacant stares. I wondered if they were drugged, or maybe just desensitized to this madness. I was certain my emotions were written across my face.

“I will be back in ten minutes. You will come out one at a time, but stay ready. Good luck.”

Then she left the room again, leaving me here with the resigned and absent.

My mind raced furiously, trying to make sense of what was happening. Kovalev was selling me off. He never gave any indication of being dissatisfied. If anything, he seemed like he enjoyed keeping me around. Could this be his way of cashing me in? Closing the transaction? Would this finally pay off my father’s debt to him? Kovalev had never been generous, reasonable, or kind, but there had to be some sense of fairness buried in him somewhere. A little spring of hope welled up within me.

There was no guarantee, though. Even if I had a notarized contract, who was to say that Kovalev would keep his word when it came to it. I stepped down hard on the sliver of hope. Better not to get my hopes up. That way I would be prepared when the worst ended up happening, as it had every day since I decided to give up my freedom to save my father.

“Natalie! You’re up, dear.”

I hadn’t heard the severe woman come in, but her voice snapped across the room. A pale, dark-haired girl who kept staring at her feet rose and walked, trance-like, out the door. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. My turn would come soon.