The Knight (Endgame #2)(27)

I step into the dark hallway, my heart beating a hundred times a minute. And with every rapid tick I’m counting down the seconds until someone discovers me. Will they pull a gun on me? Will they shoot first and ask questions later?

It’s not only Gabriel who might find me. Any one of the dangerous men who visit might discover me. Any one of the ex-con security guards they employ might confront me.

“Gabriel?” I ask, my voice wavering. “Mr. Miller?”

He isn’t the man I came to see that first time. I had come to ask for a loan from Damon Scott. But I didn’t have anything for collateral, so he said no. The auction was my only choice.

The silence seems to echo in my eardrums, as if I’m in a giant seashell.

Leather armchairs and ornate wooden tables stand silent witness from the spacious sitting room. A grandfather clock ticks from the end of the hall, pointing out the evening hour. Someone would be here, having a drink. Smoking a cigar. Purchasing a virgin. That’s what they do here. That’s what this place is for. So why is it empty?

“Mr. Scott?”

Before the auction Damon Scott had a photographer take pictures of me. Not naked, but almost. Wearing only my white panties and white bra, hiding my face with my hair. They were meant to generate interest in the auction among the wealthy, perverted men of the city.

Damon had only told me later that the pictures had never been circulated. Of the men at the auction, only Gabriel Miller had ever seen them.

On the first step from the bottom, something small and wooden rests.

Without touching it, I bend down to look at it. The missing pawn from the chess set. A breadcrumb to where Gabriel wants to lead me. And I know now, with this one small token, that this was all intentional. What his end goal is, I don’t know. But he planned this. He plans everything.

This pawn once touched me in my most intimate place. It was once slick with my arousal.

And Gabriel Miller sucked the wetness from the curved head.

Sidestepping the pawn, I climb the steps with increasing anxiety. What does he want from me? How does he know I’ll be here? But of course there’s no one else I can turn to, not when I need my mother’s diary.

At the top of the stairs I hesitate. I can still turn around. Back down the stairs. Out into the city. I can leave this behind—Gabriel Miller and the shameful auction. And the key to unlock my family’s history.

Lifting my chin, I walk down the narrow hallway. I might as well be facing a guillotine. A firing squad. The death of any pride I have left.

The room where the photographer took my pictures has the same surreal, wavy light from my dreams. Some trick of the old windows, bubbles in the glass and ripples in the surface. The light changes color with every blink, dancing over my skin.

Except the room is empty. I take two steps inside. Where is he?

“Kneel,” comes a low voice from behind me.

My breath catches. This is how it feels to be the fly in a web. Anything I do will only bind me tighter. Will you fight me? he asked. Because he wants to tie me down.

I kneel, the floor hard and painful beneath my knees.

He moves to stand in front of me, nothing but solidity and shadow, his white shirt open at the neck, revealing a dusting of hair. His hand clasps my neck loosely, a gentle threat. I swallow against his palm, nerves overcoming my desire to submit.

Then he curves his palm around so he’s cupping me, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin at my nape. He could hurt me like this. He could use me.

He pulls me close until my cheek rests against his thigh. It’s like he’s blessing me, absolving me, but how could that be possible when he’s the worst sinner of all? He can’t save me.

“Little virgin, do you know why your father lost his business?”

I stiffen. “Because of you. You bought it from him, and then—”

“By then it was too late for him. Only a desperate man would try to cheat the devil. How did someone with so much money lose everything?”

The question has haunted me since the trial. I blamed Gabriel Miller for the form of retaliation, but why had my father cheated him? Why had he gambled with his largest business?

Gabriel’s rough fingers stroke my skin, back and forth, soothing me. “Do you want to know the answer?”

It’s a fair question, because even as I’m dying to know—I’m afraid that the answer will be the end. I’ve stood by my father this entire time. Through the trial and the horrible press. Trading in my college fund so that he could pay restitution instead of jail time. I auctioned my virginity so that we could keep the house and pay for his medical care.

He’s a good father, a good man. He doesn’t deserve what Gabriel has done to him.

The entire time a quiet question echoed in my chest. What if I’m wrong about him?

Gabriel leans down to whisper in my ear. “Please me, and I’ll tell you.”

He straightens, and I know what I have to do. My fingers feel numb as I work the fastening of his pants. He’s already hard inside, his cock leaning heavily from the placket once free. Impossibly hot, burning my palm. I stroke him with both hands, working him until his breath comes faster.

“Your mouth,” he says roughly.

And I need some semblance of power, so I lick at the tip. I mouth the hard length of him. I press a chaste kiss to the base, where coarse hair tickles my lips.

He growls low in his throat, the vibration running down his body, through his cock. “Suck me, little virgin. Take me inside. Let me fuck those pink lips. I need to feel your throat.”