Chapter Three

The air inside Belle Époque was heavy with the scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne.

The high and mighty of the Monaco's Elite filled the room, having conversations in loud voices, their postures relaxed and giving that quiet confidence that came with affluence.

Sir William sighted the men as soon as they walked into the room. He approached, his tailored suit impeccably fitting, his smile just as polished as the room itself.

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Beckham.” He said in a small voice. “I’m honored to have you here on this special evening. Truly, a privilege. When I saw that you RSVP'd your invitation, I just knew I had to step up the party.”

With a tight smile, George shook Sir William’s outstretched arm. Davis, ever the charmer, clapped the man on his shoulder.

“William, you old dog. You've outdone yourself tonight. The place is buzzing.”

“Only the best for men of your calibre.” Sir William replied, a proud smile playing on his face, “ Speaking of which, George, I hear your winery has been making waves, something about a new vineyard in Tuscany. Quite the acquisition.”

“It's performing well. Demands up, especially in Europe. We're expanding distribution in the next quarter.” George replied.

“A man who knows how to seize opportunities. Love to see that.” Sir William said

Then, gesturing towards the room, he added, “Come, gentlemen, let me show you to your seats.”

As they followed, George felt eyes on him. Heads turned, some subtle, some less so but he ignored them. He was used to it, anyway. It came with being successful.

They had only just taken their seats when Davis leaned in and tapped his arm. He jerked his head towards the far left corner of the room.

“You're going to want to see this.”

George turned, following his gaze and his stomach twisted. There, sitting on a plush velvet chair was his wife - well, ex-wife - Michelle.

She looked impeccable as always, in a black full length dress that barely covered her breasts, her straight her falling over her shoulders.

A seductress. The same quality that had made him fall in love with her. Her hand rested on the arm of the man beside her as she threw her head back in laughter.

George recognized the man beside her - Alfred Reed. He was a business rival, a smug real estate mogul with a reputation for playing dirty.

Somehow, Michelle's gaze found his across the room and locked onto it for a fleeting moment.

She smirked, then leaned forward and pulling Alfred closer, she kissed him deeply.

George watched as her hand slid up and down his chest, his fingers tightening around the wine glass Sir William had handed him.

Davis nudged him, “Just like I said. She's not sitting around pining. Let it go, man.”

Before George could respond, Sir William took the stage in a different outfit, this one even shinier than the last. The room fell silent as the lights dimmed.

“Gentlemen,” He said, “Tonight, I have prepared a feast for your senses. I want to assure you, it's going to be extraordinary. Indulge, enjoy, and let the night take you wherever it will.”

As the crowd cheered, a single spotlight came on, illuminating the stage.

The first girl emerged slowly from behind a curtain. She wore an outfit that was barely there - a black lace bodysuit that clung to her small frame like a second skin. Thin straps criss crossed her back, leaving little to the imagination, and high heels that made her legs look majestic as she walked to the pole at the centre of the stage.

George closed his eyes momentarily in disgust as the men hooted and shouted bids.

“Fifty thousand.” One called

“Fifty-five,” Another called, as the girl swung around the pole, her expression stoick as if she was somewhere else.

A man at the right side of the stage stood, adjusting his jacket, “ A hundred thousand,”

No one challenged him. Sir William's voice rang out, “Sold to Mr. Alfonzo.”

The girl was led offstage and George watched, his stomach churning in disgust as the man followed to claim his prize.

The next girl stepped into the spotlight. She was bustier than the last girl with even more pronounced curves that had the men hooting even more.

Her outfit was identical to the first - black lace, sheer and daring - but it strained against her figure and her breasts looked like they would spill out any second.

Like the first, she walked to the pole and began to work her magic. The men began to shout prices.

“Seventy thousand,”

“Ninety thousand.”

“Three hundred thousand,” Davis said with quiet confidence. The room fell silent as heads turned to him.

Sir William flashed a satisfied grin, “Sold to Mr. Beckham.”

Davis leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine and ignoring George's disgusted look. “I'm gonna have so much fun,”

The process repeated, girl after girl, and each time, George got more agitated. He leaned towards Davis, his voice low and tight.

“I’ve had enough, I'm going home.”

Davis raised a hand, his eyes filled with amusement, “Hold on, man. We're almost done and soon you'll be able to crawl back into your sad hole. Besides, you haven't picked a woman yet.”

“You really think I would participate in this?”

“Oh come on, Father.” Davis said sarcastically

George opened his mouth to speak but David raised a hand to shut him up and nodded towards the stage, “Wait. Look.”

The next girl stepped out and George's breath caught. The energy in the room seemed to shift as she walked seductively towards the pole. She was strikingly different from all the other girls.

Even her outfit was different, though no less revealing. Her crimson red glittery bodysuit twinkled under the spotlight.

Silver chains draped across her hips caught the light as she moved, her stilettos made her legs look endless.

This time, Harlyn took the stage instead of Sir William, voice dripping with charm, “Gentlemen, I present to you one of our finest. A rare gem, highly valuable. Only for the best.” She said, her voice dripping with charm.

But George was not listening. His entire focus was on the girl as she grabbed the pole. She climbed it with effortless grace as her hair swayed.

“She's exotic,” Davis whispered.

Her body twisted and spinned in a way that was completely sensual and commanding. Her eyes, emotionless, swept across the crowd and for the briefest moment, they landed on George's.

His heart seemed to stop at that moment. He felt exposed under her gaze. She turned, continuing her dance but as she swung around the pole, their eyes met and this time the contact lingered.

She was familiar. He was sure he had seen her somewhere, met her before. But he couldn't place his finger on when and where.

The men began their bidding.

“Three hundred thousand!”

“Four hundred.”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“A million.”

George barely registered anything going on, his whole attention was trained on her. Then,

“Five million,”

The room seemed to stand still. Eyes turned to him, wide open. Even Harlyn, who stood poised at the edge of the stage, froze, her smile faltering a little.

The number hung there, unchallengeable.

Davis touched George's arm, “That’s a lot, man.”

George didn't flinch. “Five million.”

His gaze shifted to the left corner of the room, where a shocked Michelle sat. Her smug smile was no longer in place. She sat straighter now, her posture rigid. She stared at him wide-eyed. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and something in the tune of betrayal.

Like he was the one breaking some unspoken vow, not her.

Harlyn's voice rang out, “Sold! To Mr. Winchester!”

Amaya looked up, her gaze locking on his, the man who had claimed her.

The same man she had been having eye contact with since she took the stage.

Dread took over her. She knew him - well, everyone did.

George Winchester.

She had seen his face plastered on every news channel.

The man, who arcodding to the media was going through a messy divorce with wife due to his constant abuse.

Her grip on the pole tightened. Could life be any more unfair. She had escaped from one monster just to land in the hands of another.

An abusive partner, now an abusive buyer.