Mikhail

5

I sipped my champagne, standing on the sidelines and observing each person in the grand hall.

I had yet to spot my father or any of his men, which of course was a relief but made me think there was some other way he was associated with this business. Either that, or him avoiding me was for a reason other than his inability to pull his cards away from human trafficking.

I was here to kill anyone he sent to ogle at the women on auction, even if it was a friend of mine. I was deeply hurt by the years of lies, and would now do anything to warn him I wouldn't stop until it was all finished. I hadn't been able to sleep for the past week after the newly disclosed and greatly upsetting revelation.

"I wish she'd be on auction tonight," one of the older men near me made a comment to his friends, nodding at the nude waitress only covered by a golden Venetian mask.

She headed toward us, the tray of drinks she was carrying balanced expertly in her hands.

"Do you come alongside this?" another of the men insinuated, winking at the poor woman as he grabbed himself a drink, and then a hold of her behind. She seemed unfazed, and only gave him a polite smile.

"What's your name, honey?" he then inquired, hand wrapping around her upper arm before she could walk off.

I sipped my champagne, focus moving from scanning over the people to the conversation had beside me. These men had enough money to buy the world, and what awaited the woman scared me almost as much as it did her.

"Olivia," she introduced herself, "may I bring you any hors d'oeuvres, sir?"

"This'll be all," he waved her off, turning back to his friends, "I'll talk to Jack and have her brought to our box. Quite the arse on her."

I cleared my throat, close to glaring at the group of middle-aged white men, but reminded myself that attention was the last thing I needed now. My burgundy evening gown with its velvety fabric clinging to my skin and exposing my leg through a high slit may have not been the best choice, but so far I had managed to remain out of sight and out of mind.

The organiser of this event was Jack Gold, one of my father's childhood friends.

I had heard about this auction through connections whom I trusted not to go to my father to report on my inquiries. I was here alone and without any kind of backup, without having informed anyone of my plans or whereabouts. This was a risk, but the risk facing the people around me trying to stop me was bigger.

Murmurs around the hall quietened and attention moved over to Gold and his wife as they graced us with their presence, having waited for us to fill up on champagne and small bites of food before the actual auction was to begin.

They knew each and every person they had invited, but the masks we were instructed to wear protected everyone's identity from the other.

I had slipped in with the caterers, hoping I would pass off unquestioningly as one of the old men's girlfriend or mistress, who they for some absurd reason brought along for the ride. Maybe it was to show off, or to manipulate and remind them of their uncertain place in the men's lives. The latter was most likely, considering how fragile their little egos were.

Gold welcomed us joyously, his wife remaining dutifully by him. He then informed us it was time to head over to the luxurious private boxes, which his men would guide each guest to.

I moved discreetly along the wall, needing to slip past everyone and wait until they were all seated, before finding an empty box for myself. I should have thought this through better, because I couldn't be sure if there would be any available ones.