Chapter Three

"Wake up bitch. Wake up." A glass of water was thrown at her face and Sophia finally regained her senses. She coughed and snorted out the water that had gotten into her nose. The air was damp around her and her head throbbed badly. Her clothes were dirty and stained and she was tied to a chair.

The old woman walked up to her and stared at her for a while before slapping her hard on her face. Sophia was so weak that she nearly fell over from the impact.

"You fat pig, you lucky boss says no killing of his auction girls, or you dead now." The old woman said angrily.

"Please let me go," Sophia pleaded sorrowfully. "I'll be good. I won't tell anyone about this place. Just let me go." with that, she broke down into tears.

"No cry now. You kill Harry. You run away. We let you go when rich man buys you." The old woman said and spat at her. "She smells like a pig. Amanda go change her dress."

Amanda, a beautiful middle-aged woman with long hair and cat eyes, stepped forward and untied her bonds. She tried leading Sophia by the hand but the girl was too weak to walk. She looked back at the old woman with pleading eyes.

"Please I need help carrying her," she said. The old woman scoffed at her.

"We pay you good big, big money for this. It's your work, go change her dress now." She said, and with a carefree flick of her long, beautiful hair, she walked into the auditorium to welcome the boss and his guests.

Amanda propped Sophia up for balance and carried her in her arms. She walked slowly because the girl was many times heavier than she looked. She managed to carry her into the dressing room and changed her torn black dress, replacing it with a beautiful white floral dress with green emerald dots that complimented her eyes.

"Please you have to let me go. I don't want to be sold. I want to leave this place." Sophia said as she wept heavily. "I want to go to school, I want to study, I want to have a family. Please,' she held Amanda's hand 'help me."

"I'm so sorry dear, but there's nothing I can do for you. We're both too deep into this to start thinking of leaving. I wished there was another way. Get up now." She had started her words with sympathy but now there was an authority in her voice that Sophia knew. She quietly obeyed and weakly got to her feet. The lady led her through the kitchens where chefs were busily at work making international cuisines for their criminal guests. The aroma from the pots made her remember her hunger and it returned with a vengeance. They left the kitchen to her relief and stepped into the waiting room where all the soon-to-be-sold girls were waiting patiently for their new fate. 

"Take a seat. And don't do anything stupid." Amanda said sternly before leaving.

The room was very spacious and two big men stood guard. The adjoining room was the main auditorium and Sophia could hear the guests. She looked at all the girls awaiting the same fate as hers. Some were seated quietly while others were sobbing bitterly. Sophia wanted to cry herself but she was too weak to do so.

Amanda soon returned with several wooden slates. The slates had two holes drilled into them, which were fitted with short ropes. Huge numbers were written on the slates and the girls were ordered to stand in line. Each girl was given a slate with a number attached. The slate was worn around their heads like a price tag, and Amanda immediately took the first girl, a blonde-haired beauty, into the hall. 

Sophia stood tiredly on the line. She had been lucky to come in with Amanda the time she had. Hers had been the last slate so she was the last girl on the line. 

One by one the girls were carried into the hall until Sophia was the only one left. Her legs were barely holding her up and her head was still throbbing badly when Amanda came for her. She pleaded with her eyes but the woman ignored her.

"Please you do not have to do this." Sophia whispered desperately, "You are a good person; I know you are."

"COULD YOU JUST SHUT THE F**K UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR DAMN LIFE?" Amanda screamed in such a way that it startled her and nearly made her lose her balance.

"You don't know bullocks about me. I told you before that there is nothing I could do for you; trying to help you would be suicide, and I have kids that depend on their single mother for everything." Amanda yelled with a crazy look in her eyes that scared Sophia.

She held Sophia by her hair and drew her face close to hers. "I would sell you to the devil if it means my kids are getting food on their plates." Every word she said was drawn out with malice and anger. She pushed her face away and Sophia fell to her knees.

"Get up bitch." Amanda said scornfully, "Your new masters are waiting."

As Sophia stepped out of the gloomy room she had been kept, the floodlights of the main hall were pointed directly at her, and for a moment, she nearly lost her bearing. She could not see anything.

 Amanda gave her a gentle push and she went up the mounted pavilion and took the seat in the middle of the stage. A young man with a weird mustache and jet black hair that was pulled back into place by hair jell, joined her on the stage. His eyes ran their course through her body, devouring her from her leg until they landed on her breasts. He gave a throaty chuckle and winked at her.

She tried looking at the audience, but the floodlights blinded her, so she contented herself with looking down at her rubber shoes.

The weird-looking young man picked up the microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last auction for the evening, so keep your number plates ready as we are about to begin."

Sophia heard murmurs and whispers rise from the crowd but still couldn't see past their silhouettes.

"We have had a splendid evening with plenty of beautiful girls to select from, but we have entered our last selection, and may I say she is the finest of them all."

"We have here a Caucold brunette, eighteen years of age and breast sizes are 32, hips are 28, and a very flat stomach. The report says she hasn't had a man yet, so this one, like all the rest, is very pure, just like you folks like 'em." Light laughter rose from the crowd and a shiver ran down Sophia's spine. They are bidding over me like I'm some goat.

"The starting price is one million dollars for this extraordinary beauty. Do we have one million?"

A number plate shot up quickly and the young host jumped and pointed at it excitedly. "There's one million, but it would be a shame if she went for such a low price. I'm raising the bar higher, way higher."

"Do we have five million dollars?" 

Another hand shot up lighting fast. A light murmur rose from the crowd. 

"Number 45 with Five million, he must want this girl very badly but I believe I have others here who want her just as bad. Do we have twenty million dollars?" Excitement was in the air but the most excited person was the young host. He jumped up laughing when a hand came up bidding for twenty million dollars.

"Twenty million dollars from number 12. Twenty million dollars going," he said and looked around at the crowd anxiously. The atmosphere was charged, and the whispers were now full-on conversations, all centered on her.

"A hundred million dollars!!" A voice yelled desperately.

Silence fell on the hall like rain on a cold autumn night. The young host stood wide-eyed in shock, little beads of sweat appeared on his face, and he quickly wiped them away.

 Sophia herself could not believe her ears. Who in their right mind would be willing to pay a hundred million dollars for a nobody like her? She had heard about how rich the bidders were, but they couldn't possibly be that rich.

"Who said that?" the host asked. He was very much confused and shocked. Of all the auctions he had been part of, the highest they had made was thirty million dollars and now someone was willing to pay a hundred million for one girl.

A number plate rose slowly out of the crowd. The host gave a signal and all the stage lights were directed at the person. Sophia looked down at the crowd of middle-aged men and women who, until a minute ago, had been focused on her. The lights reflected off the crystals beautifully, and the number forty-five was illuminated beautifully. 

 "Could you please stand up sir?" the host asked. He was curious to know who this wealthy tycoon was.

 The young owner of the card rose slowly and another wave of whispers took the crowd once more.

Sophia could not help but gasp at the sight of him. His jet black hair was matted down, obviously from the rain outside, but his cat-like eyes and his plump full lips belonged to a face she had seen before. The face of the man who had tried to help her outside. 

 "I do not recognize you, sir; who are you?" the host asked with suspicion laced in his tone.

"I am just a bidder." The young tycoon replied quietly.

The host smiled at him, and all the tension was lost like fog when the summer sun shone through the clouds.

"You have very good taste, sir." He finally said. With the grace of a ballerina, he spun around and clicked his heels together.

"Any other person bidding for a hundred million? The whispers continued but the number cards stayed down. "A hundred million dollars going, going…" he raised his hand and pointed to the crowd in silent solicitation, but the number cards stayed down. 

"Gone!!! Sold to the charming and handsome number forty-five

 The Lamborghini sped down the highway at midnight. The rain was now falling with a temper and Alex could hardly see out of the window even though the wipers had been activated. His heart was still racing and his nerves were still at their peak. He looked at the passenger seat to see the girl forlorn and quiet. Her fear was evident in her eyes and her body trembled from the cold.

He was extremely lucky to have pulled that off without getting caught, and all that was left to be taken care of was the car. He had already phoned an Uber that would take them home. The car would be abandoned when they get there.

The girl began to sob quietly, and her shivering got worse. Alex drove with one hand, and with the other, he wrapped his jacket around her.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

 ****

"What do we know about this man Smith?" Jake asked coldly. He was no longer smiling and he was no longer playing the role of the friendly host. He swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand slowly as he stared at the old woman with cold blue eyes.

"I no know anything, sir." She looked at his face and quickly added " But I promise you, we find him."

"You better do, or I might be auctioning you off as a nanny soon." He stood up from his desk and walked to his floor-length window. His massive torso and back were unclothed, and his entire upper body was covered in tattoos.

"what should we do with this one sir." One of the guards asked and pointed down at the beaten and bruised body of the original number forty-five.

"He is of no use to me. Kill him."