Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Candace

“Good news,” Helen beams.

Eagerly, I press the phone to my ear. “Please, tell me you got me in.”

“I did,” she squeals, and I sigh with relief, mentally crossing my fingers and toes this plan of mine might work. “And, because of your ties to the D’Agostinos, I managed to persuade the auction organizer to place you fourth on the list.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re the best. Thanks so much, Helen.”

As I walk out of the kitchen, I glance back through the window. It’s odd, I had a weird feeling. That weird sensation you get when someone is watching you. I can’t see anybody outside though, just the darkness of the night and the shadow of the building opposite mine. It’s at least forty feet away. Clearly, I’m just paranoid because of the shit I’m about to dive into.

“I’m just fascinated. Candace Ricci, it’s not every day a woman like you signs up to an auction of this nature.” She laughs.

The deadline to apply for the Decadent Auction closed last Monday. On Friday when I came up with the bright idea to take part, I begged Helen to work her magic to get me in as a last-minute participant.

“I know,” I chuckle, balancing the phone between my shoulder and the crook of my neck so I can open my bedroom door. I pad over to my bed and sit, setting the plate of cookies down next to me.

“This year you’re in for a real treat of filthy rich, gorgeous men. If I didn’t have Adam, I’d be signing up too.”

I’m sure she would. She’s a veteran of these types of auctions. I on the other hand loathe them.

“I only have my eye on one guy,” I coo, lying through my teeth.

“Of course, forgive me. How dare I forget this clever plan is all about Jacques Belmont?” She giggles in that saucy way she does when we’re talking about men.

“The one and only.”

“That uber gorgeous French man could charm a nun out of her panties.”

Since I’m certain he could, I can’t disagree with her. A month ago, when Jacques signed contracts as D’Agostinos Inc.’s newest client the man turned heads with his GQ looks and that same charm she’s talking about.

“I can’t believe you’re so into him.”

“Thought I’d give him a chance. The auction is something different for me and one sure way to know if he’s as interested in me as he says.” I feel bad for lying to her. I wasn’t raised to be a liar. Then again… I was raised to keep quiet so maybe it’s the same thing.

Jacques has had his eye on me since we met. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for over a month and I’ve declined every time he asked.

Last week I changed my tune when I stumbled across something significant and realized he might have answers to questions I’ve had for the last thirteen years. Questions about my parent’s deaths.

When I found out Jacques would be attending the auction, I saw it as my chance to get closer to him.

“I’m glad to hear that. I just hope you’re prepared. You do know the man will basically own you for thirty days and thirty nights, right?”

“I know, and I’m definitely prepared.” Another lie. I’m not prepared in the least and poor Helen is completely unable to see through the crock of shit I’m dishing her.

Helen and I became friends a few years ago when I started working for Massimo as his PA. She’s the PR manager. Although she’s come to be a great friend, and the only one I have who isn’t married with children, she doesn’t know me enough to know a date auction is the last thing I’d ever be signing up to, let alone one being run by the Syndicate.

In an ordinary date auction, a couple would be expected to go on an actual date and do something like dinner and a movie. Anything to do with the Syndicate would be the stark opposite.

Massimo might be in charge now, but he kept all the old practices and events alive to please the old school gentleman’s club type investors. So, this auction is literally a woman auctioning her body to the highest bidder.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

At least it’s partly for charity. Fifty percent of the winning bids will be given to help the people in Long Beach who lost their homes in the floods. Beneath that facade is the enticement of sex.

These types of events attract billionaires and businessmen with special tastes for the dark and decadent. Men with dark fantasies of buying women. Men like Jacques Belmont. With the starting bid at a hundred thousand dollars and the remaining fifty percent for the woman on sale, the expectations are laid out on the table.

“You’ve got me hooked on this plan of yours,” Helen bubbles. “The question on my mind though is how you’re so certain Jacques will bid on you.”

“He wants me. Jacques won’t just bid on me, he’ll win.” I sound exactly like the vindictive debutant bitches I grew up around who were constantly throwing themselves at the D’Agostino boys.

Helen sucks in a breath and I can just imagine the shock on her face at my words. I don’t normally talk like this.

“Candace you’ve gone from shy wallflower to confident temptress overnight.”

I wish it were that. It’s not though. I just know how to handle rich assholes who want sex.

“I know his type.”

“Oh, my gosh, this is so juicy.” She laughs louder. “But what if someone outbids him?”

“He won’t allow that to happen.” I know what men like him do.

Jacques is one of those Neanderthals who isn’t used to hearing the word no. He would have seen me as a piece of ass to add to his list of conquests. I’m also certain he just assumed that I was playing hard to get. My interaction with him over the last few days probably made him think I was warming to his continuous advances. That is what will make him want me more, and that competitive streak in him will never allow another man to have me.

What I’ll be doing this week is sowing seeds to cement his interest. The auction is on Saturday. When I tell him I’ll be taking part that will seal the deal.

“Oh, my God. You are on fire. I like it. Candace, you sound like a new woman.”

“I feel like one.” One on a mission for answers and justice.

“What about the brothers, aren’t you worried Massimo or Tristan might say something?”

“Not at all.” One more lie. They would go ape shit. “They won’t even be there.” And if they were, they’d think I’d lost my mind.

Massimo and Tristan are both married and have their hands full with their babies. They don’t usually concern themselves with these sorts of events, but they definitely wouldn’t agree with me entering such a thing. Even if the subject of anything to do with relationships has been approached with care since Dominic left.

I frown and release an exasperated breath. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I wince. It’s nearly ten. Another two hours and I would have gone a whole day without thinking about Dominic D’Agostino. Another two more hours and I could class myself as almost at the point where maybe I was getting over him.

Maybe.

He’s been gone for two years. Moving on should be easy when I think of all the reasons to hate him. The man left me in a hospital bed after he put a bullet in my chest. It was like he stayed around long enough to make sure I was alive, then he just left, leaving me a note telling me not to wait for him.

Even though I put on a brave face, I’m still heartbroken knowing the boy I love deserted me when I needed him the most.

I stifle a groan, shake my mind free of his face, and focus on Jacques. Thinking about Dominic isn’t going to do me any favors.

“I absolutely can’t wait to see how this is going to play out,” Helen says.

“Me too. It’s gonna be fun.”

“It will, and if you don’t mind me saying, a good move for you. Giving another guy a chance will help you move forward.”

She means moving on from Dominic. Before he left, people would have seen us together, but we weren’t a couple then. We were barely a couple at the point we got together, and no one would have seen us.

Helen is the kind of woman who can figure things like that out for herself, though. I’ve also been obvious in my avoidance of forming any new relationships.

“I agree.”

“Make sure we book a shopping date. I want to see your dress before the big night.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, see you in the morning.”

“See you.”

When we hang up, I set my phone down and press my hand to my chest. I inhale shallow, even breaths. I must look like I’m on the verge of a panic attack or I’m trying to come out of one. With the bizarre plan I’m concocting, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did have a full-blown panic attack.

Sliding off the bed, I put the cookies to the side on the nightstand. My appetite’s gone and I doubt it will come back tonight. When I think of what I’ll have to do to get answers, I feel sick.

As the help’s daughter, I used to hear things. Secrets and plights. I’ve heard of women selling themselves for sex. That’s what it’s going to look like when I stand on that stage and auction myself.

When I was talking to Helen, I sounded like a woman who was excited to sign her body up for a risque event. Women who do those events live for the money and the thrill of the dark fantasy of being owned. I’m nothing of the sort. Not even close, and that’s not why I’m doing it.

Eight months ago, I decided I wanted to change my life. Being shot and nearly dying can make a person reflect. When I took a look at my life, I didn’t like what I saw. I saw myself as a person who was co-dependent on others, and a shadow of what I was meant to be.

Moving into this apartment was the first step to getting my life on track. The other step was tackling the biggest thorn in my heart–the loss of my parents.

I realized I couldn’t move forward until I revisited the past and got answers for their deaths.

Giacomo D’Agostino took me in to live with his family after my parents died. He did his best to find my parents’ killer. His attempts were, however, to no avail. Of course, it would have been difficult looking for a dark-haired man I didn’t know the name of and just going by the description of his tattoo. That was all I had.

My description came with the omission of my first encounter with that man. I’d simply explained that he’d been at the house before and I recognized the tattoo. Those details were hardly anything to investigate with, and of course, when you live in Stormy Creek, nobody sees anything they’re not supposed to.

This auction is my way of trying a different tactic.

I believe Jacques may know or have information on the man my father worked for. The same man who sent those men to kill my parents and me.

Because questions like that aren’t the sort I can simply ask without the worry of repercussions, my plan is to get close to Jacques with the hope he will tell me. That auction is how you get close to a man like him.

He’s a billionaire playboy who wants sex, and when it’s over it’s over. But something like the auction is a hook for those like him with dark fantasies. The thought of owning me for thirty days will keep him interested.

That thirty days would give me time and ground him in L. A. because he’s always traveling. With the meetings for his contract wrapping up within a week or so, I wouldn’t see him as much as I do now.

Over the last few days, I’ve asked myself if there wasn’t a better way or something different I could do with Jacques’ interest in me. The only sure answer I kept coming up with was taking part in the auction and making sure he wins me.

It’s the kind of plan that only a desperate person like me would think of.