Chapter 4

ANDREI

I can’t keep my attention off the gorgeous redhead bound in metal on the stage. This is the eighth year I’ve been to this auction, but

the second without my father.

He insisted that we purchase a virgin each year, but that we present them with a choice. They would be allowed to stay at our New York residence and sleep with me, or be put to work in one of our other residences in North America as a cleaner or cook, depending on the woman’s skill sets.

He would even afford them a wage and allow them to reside in the servants’ quarters. It never concerned me one way or the other if they wished to sleep with me or not. I’ve never been hard up in that department. Even so, since my father’s death two years ago, I’ve upheld the tradition.

My father was a good man, perhaps too good. He never wanted the virgins. After my mother left him, he had little interest in any romantic or sexual relationships.

This virgin is the first and only woman who has captured my attention at one of these auctions in eight years. I turned to steel in my boxer briefs the moment her striking green eyes found mine in the holding room.

There’s a power in her I’ve never seen before in previous offerings at these auctions. Her eyes held a steely fire, barely discernible beneath the mask she sought to hide behind.

It’s a sexy quality that makes me hope that she desires to be mine once I buy her. There’s no doubt in my mind she is the one this year.

Her auburn hair is as hot as the fires burning in hell and her eyes as beautiful as polished emerald gems. The notion of dominating her body makes me wild with need. I long to see her tied down to my spanking bench in my pleasure room at home.

I’d turn her white skin a perfect red, alternating between spanking her and pleasuring her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fuck.

My cock throbs and balls tingle, as I keep my eyes on her. It pisses me off that they control the women, forcing them to keep their heads bowed. I want to gaze into her eyes again. Those beautiful, bright green eyes.

Will she even remember her own name?

The expression in her eyes she tried so hard to mask, which she tried so hard to mask suggests she hasn’t been broken mentally by the torture. It means Rykov was telling the truth when he admitted they hadn’t been able to break her, as he knows I lean toward fiesty women.

Perhaps, she managed to hold onto her memories, unlike the previous woman I’ve purchased. I wanted to hear her voice, but it’s something I couldn’t ask for—not in front of the shestyorka.

They may be the lowest rank in our brotherhood, but they’re not stupid. A show of weakness is too much of a risk. I can’t break the rules in front of them.

They are parading around a dark-haired Asian girl at the moment. I wince at the sight of bruises on the back of her legs as she turns. I find my eyes flicking to the beauty I’m so taken with.

A brief scan of her body reveals the extent of the damage. Damage I hadn’t noticed in the dark holding room. Her flawless skin is marred with minor, superficial bruises. They never break the skin, careful to make sure the virgins aren’t permanently scarred.

I can’t figure out why her injuries bother me so much. The tension in my jaw making it ache, as I force myself to look anywhere but at her. No one would ever hurt her in my house.

My attention returns to the girl on the stage, commanding a bidding war. Two brotherhood men are going head to head for the woman they want. The auction has struck five million dollars, and it is still rising.

It’s no use trying to keep my eyes off of the woman I crave, so I return all my attention to my redhead, wondering what she will go for.

She’s by far the most beautiful woman on that stage. There’s a possessiveness clawing at me as I keep my attention fixed on her, hating that the rest of the men in the room can see her naked. She’s a virgin I wouldn’t mind deflowering and making mine.

Something tells me if I bedded her, I wouldn’t be able to let her go. My days of virgin purchasing would be over, even though I never purchased them to deflower, anyway. It’s all a show my father believed important to uphold as pakhan.

Rykov steps forward, signaling for everybody to be silent. “Last lot is number fifteen.”

My heart gallops as the redhead steps forward. I straighten in my seat, observing her. Although I keep my outward appearance unaffected, I’m a mess inside.

There are murmurs of appreciation, as a handful of men reach for their paddles. Hot possessiveness coils through my gut at the sight.

None of them can outbid me. It’s not possible. The New York brotherhood is the largest and richest, which means I have more money than any of them. I’d pay any price for her.

Not only because it asserts my dominance as the New York brotherhood pakhan, but because I want her. For some inexplicable reason, I really want her.

My paddle is in my hand the moment the bidding starts. I keep it down, waiting while the bidding increases. There’s no use getting arm ache when I expect this to go into the multi-millions.

The lower ranking bidders begin to drop out, as the bid reaches seven million dollars. The sum is too much now for anyone but a pakhan.

Once there are only two left in, I lift my paddle. One guy drops out, bowing his head in defeat. I meet the gaze of the other guy, Luka Romanov, and he glares at me. He’s the pakhan of another brotherhood running out of Los Angeles. Which means, this will be a hard fight, but I’m confident I’ll win.

He keeps going, driving the auction up to eleven million dollars. I gaze back at the redhead who is unmoving and appears unaffected by the fact she’s being sold for an obscene sum of money. Previous years, I haven’t splashed out too much on my virgins, but this time, I must.

Luka is turning a deeper red by the second. I just bid fourteen million dollars, without even batting an eyelid. I’ve got too much money to know what the hell to do with it, anyway. What’s a few million more?

He bids another two-hundred thousand.

“Fifteen million dollars,” I say, not wishing to go up in such insignificant sums of money anymore. I will win. I always do.

No matter what, I will leave with this woman. If I she goes for one-hundred million dollars, I will pay it. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s because she reminds me of myself—broken, but strong despite it all.

Luca sets down his paddle, glowering at me with a fiery hatred. He doesn’t concern me. The brotherhood in Los Angeles is nothing compared to my outfit.

“Lot fifteen goes to Andrei Petrov.”

I turn my attention back to my prize, noticing the tension in her shoulders ease. It makes little sense, considering she doesn’t know who I am or who has bought her.

Maybe she’s glad it is over. She can’t understand how lucky she is that I’ve purchased her. Luka is one of the worst kind of pakhan. He’s renowned for enjoying torturing, and it’s believed he murdered his late wife a few years back.

A young woman is sitting by his side, keeping her gaze down. His daughter as far as I’m aware. It shows what kind of man he is, bringing his daughter to an event like this. It is sick.

The redhead was the last lot, and people stand from their seats and leave. A tension coils through my muscles as Luka and his sovietnik, Miron, walk

toward me. “Andrei, a good fight for the redhead.”

I nod my head. “No hard feelings, I hope? I hadn’t snapped one up yet, and

I always get a virgin at this auction.”

He pats me on the back. “Of course, not. All is a fair fight, and I backed out when you got too rich for my blood.” His eyes narrow. “If you’d excuse me.” I watch as Luka walks away to join his daughter—she can’t be much older than eighteen.

Miron lingers behind. “How have you been Andrei?”