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Sold to the King
by Carmen Falcone

Copyright © 2020 by Carmen Falcone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

“Are you ready?” Jackie, the blonde who’d been helping Izzy for the most part of that god-awful day, asked.

Isabela Lima scratched her head, hating the amount of spray the stylist had used to make her hair fuller. “Not yet.” She sighed, and her heart raced. How ready was she to get the money she needed to go to a country in Africa and avenge her stepmother’s death? Very.

How ready was she to sell her virginity in order to get said money?

Not at all.

Jackie nodded. The woman reminded her of a damn Tinker Bell, with her kind eyes and pixie hair. “How do you feel?”

Izzy glanced at her feet. The outrageously high heels made up for her five-foot-four height. She had to practice wearing them ever since Madame Alexa had suggested them, during their multiple interviews. “Like a new life is about to begin.”

“That’s a way to look at it,” Jackie said.

Izzy smoothed her hand over the golden empire dress they’d picked out for her. When she told them she was a high school history teacher, they picked a gown straight from the Game of Thrones dressing room. They’d braided her hair and sprayed some shit on her head, face, and neck to make her sparkle. Sure, she was no supermodel but did she really need all this junk to pass for pretty?

“Madame Alexa would like a word,” Jackie said, before discreetly leaving the room.

A cold sweat slicked Izzy’s palms. Shit. What if Madame Alexa, the boss lady who founded and ran the controversial House of Alexa, Nevada’s infamous virgin auction, had discovered the real reason behind her becoming an auctionee?

To earn enough money to travel to the kingdom of Gwokon, in Africa, to find and avenge the people responsible for her stepmother’s murder. Mary Roberts had married Izzy’s adoptive father Harold, and even after his death, continued to be kind and supportive to her. She’d been more of a mother figure than her own birth mother, a crack addict who abandoned her in the orphanage in Rio de Janeiro at five, until Harold had adopted her at ten years old.

Anger thickened her throat, and she tried to swallow, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. For the past twelve months, she’d tried to get a second job, or a loan from the bank, but with no luck. Because of the money she’d spent hiring a detective to find her stepmother, all her resources were tapped out. And worse, the slimy investigator scammed her and never gave her a solid lead.

When Izzy heard about House of Alexa, she’d laughed. Of course she wouldn’t make it through the scrutiny of the selection process, let alone be picked for a weekly virgin able to make hundreds of thousands of dollars by selling her body for up to a month, the amount of time the buyer would have her at his disposal for. And, after that month, she’d be a rich woman with enough money to pursue her goal. Besides, a lot of buyers came from Gwokon. How lucky would she be to get a buyer from the very same place she aspired to visit? A rich man, no doubt, who could, unbeknownst to him, provide her insider information about the Gwokondenese monarchy.

Finally, she’d stop having nightmares of the terrible things Mary had to endure abroad. Mary Roberts had gone to Gwokon to meet a man she’d met online. Obasi Akenzua. After a few days in the country, she disappeared, and two weeks later, was found dead by the river with needles of heroin still injected into her. Obasi had conveniently vanished as well.

“Izzy?” said a deep female voice, one that belonged to the imposing woman who ran House of Alexa.

Izzy turned to see Alexa’s curvy figure, her bright blue eyes and sultry hair that framed her face and shoulders like luxurious dark drapes. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Madame Alexa sauntered over to her. “Yes. I wanted you to wear this,” she said, lifting the velvet box in her hands.

She opened the box, and a gold necklace sparkled. Izzy leaned closer to take a good look at it—if this had been part of her costume, why hadn’t they told her sooner? She touched the jewel, feeling the solid gold. During her comprehensive research before she joined House of Alexa, she’d never heard of auctionees wearing expensive jewelry. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart. But smart women can like pretty things too.”

Izzy withdrew, an old insecurity tightening her chest. She knew she wasn’t a beauty—not in the classical sense. She usually put her hair down to hide her ears, wishing they didn’t stick out as much. She also favored nude-colored lipstick, hoping they’d help minimize the generous size of her lips. And her eyes…one brown, one green. She usually wore lenses, like now, to make them the same color. Green. “I don’t know about this… I don’t want to lose your jewel or damage it.”

“You’ll take it off after the auction,” Madame Alexa said, twirling her fingers in a silent gesture for her to move around.

Sighing, Izzy followed her lead. Yes, she obviously needed all the help she could get to fool a man into paying money to sleep with her. Most guys wouldn’t do it for free—to date, only a couple had tried, but she hadn’t felt attracted to them enough to have sex.

“Yes, appropriate given everything else I’ll be taking off.”

A hint of a smile formed on Madame Alexa’s face. “What did I say? Smart.”

Madame Alexa snapped the clasp of the necklace closed, and Izzy touched it, tugging it a bit even if it didn’t suffocate her. “How do I look?”

“Like a smart, sexy woman ready to make a great deal of money.”

A great deal of money I’ll use to get revenge.

…

“More scotch?” a pretty waitress asked. She tipped down the aged bottle before he denied it.

Nassor Abadu took a swig of the drink, the burning liquid rolling down his throat. He checked his watch. In less than five minutes, the auction would begin. He’d almost finished this week of important diplomatic meetings in the United States without visiting the controversial House of Alexa.

He’d heard about it during a happy hour in an upscale bar in Gwokon, and decided to try it. He’d had to make a few calls to secure an invitation—all the other men occupying the large room had been either recommended by friends, or invited. One couldn’t just walk up to the mansion outside Las Vegas and wander inside.

Better this way.

He didn’t want to necessarily advertise he was the king of Gwokon. Well, king regent. By Gwokondenese laws, until his coronation a week later, he’d be regent. When the weight of the crown fell on his head, a lot would change. He’d no longer travel overseas easily; instead, he’d deal with a packed schedule to turn things around and take the economy out of the toilet.

Ever since his uncle had been diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer’s disease, he’d made even worse decisions than before. Alas, at least King Feruzi had addressed his people about his illness. Since Feruzi had never been able to father a child to any of his three wives—now deceased—he introduced his nephew to the people as the new leader.

Nassor glanced around. The dim light and the smoke coming from the roof gave the ambience a misleading sense of intimacy. Rows of chairs filled the space as waitresses zigzagged in between powerful men to offer drinks.

Nassor reached for the paddle he’d be given when he checked in.

He’d never bedded a virgin. The novelty seduced him. He’d have to pick not one, but three or four wives after he became king, and be faithful to each of them until the end of their marriage. Yes, polygamy was not only legal but highly encouraged in his country, especially for royalty. He’d be able to give himself to four different women, while not really giving himself completely to any of them.

He’d behave in the manner his people—and his mother—expected of him. The collar of his shirt felt tighter around his neck. In many ways, his life was over. But what choice did he have? Fulfilling his duty meant pretending to everyone, all the time. Even himself.

“Gentlemen, please turn off your cell phones. Recording is not allowed. If you try, security will remove you from the crowd and break your device.”

A tall woman with jet-black hair walked up to the stage and stepped onto the podium to the right. The light focused on her, and the male guests rapidly found their seats and focused their attention on her. Nassor recognized her from the pictures he’d seen online—the famous Madame Alexa.

Rumor had it influential men had offered her millions of dollars in exchange for one night with her, but she’d denied every single one of them. Nassor sat in the front, the place he’d been assigned.

“Good evening. Please meet our own Mother of Dragons, except…she’s a history buff who’s eagerly looking to find herself, dare we say, a virginity slayer?” she said, then the light left her and the focus traveled through the stage.

Smoke swirled from the mouths of two dragon statues, each located next to a column. Bronze curtains draped from the top, and a large chair occupied the space, along with fine tapestry and other accents representing the set of a popular series.

A song filled the background, drumming sounds but no lyrics.

A woman appeared from behind the curtains, strutting onto the stage with her head high. Every part of his body reacted, attuned to her presence. A deep shade of brown wove into a braid to the side, and Nassor’s fingers itched to touch her. A thread of desire zapped within him. The heavy eye makeup enhanced her beautiful green eyes, but he wondered if she needed all that goo on her flawless skin, the color of dark honey.

“Miss L is twenty-four years old. She loves animals, graduated the top of her class in college, and is a fast learner—let that sink in, gentlemen.”

Nassor cleared his throat, his pulse thrumming. He could almost hear the intake of breath from some of his fellow guests. The guy to his side, a man in his fifties, drummed his fingers on his knee impatiently as Madame Alexa carried on her rehearsed spiel.

Nassor kept his attention on the woman, who wore a golden dress that outlined her delectable curves. Quickly, the image of Miss L in his bed, with him taking her from behind as he tugged at her braid, filled his mind. His cock hardened, heart pounding in his ears.

The guy sitting next to him cleared his throat, warning Nassor he wasn’t the only one salivating over Miss L.

Nassor’s fingers balled into a fist. He wouldn’t allow any other man to win. Cursing under his breath, he straightened his shoulders and maintained his attention on her. When her wandering gaze found his, his heart flipped in his chest. Anticipation throbbed in his veins. She held the stare, her lips parting a bit.

His throat became dry and thick, even though he’d had a drink not long ago. He upped his brow, and she tilted her chin in a silent challenge. Did she want him to bid on her, or was she warning him off? A thrill raced down his spine.

“Three hundred thousand dollars.” The shout from a few rows behind him yanked him from his musings. He shook his head and tossed a glance over his shoulder to the fifty-something red-haired man lifting his paddle.

Nassor snorted. Obviously, he’d use his own money for this…transaction. Money he’d earned during years working as a financial investor. He had to sell his business a couple months prior, and thankfully had enough in his bank to afford such a crazy indulgence. He’d never use a cent from the kingdom for his own needs.

“Four hundred thousand,” someone else hollered.

“Miss L, why don’t you give them a taste?” Madame Alexa said, talking to the woman on center stage.

Miss L glanced at the crowd, then touched the sides of her dress. Swiftly, she pulled at the sides and with a swoosh, removing the extra fabric, revealed a beige corset that seemed like it’d time traveled from a former century. Sparkling beads created a nice pattern, embellishing the fabric. The top part tightened her generous breasts, and Nassor didn’t miss the rise and fall of the corset, in tandem with her breathing. Finally, she showed a hint of vulnerability.

Nassor stared at her, unapologetically, while she wriggled out of the bottom part and soon displayed shapely legs. So feminine and sexy.

She tossed a glance his way, and he kept his gaze on her. Quickly, she looked away, with a lovely shade of red staining her cheeks. Resolution filled his chest, and he drummed his fingers on his paddle.

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” the red-haired man shouted.

“Six hundred thousand,” someone from the first row said.

“Seven hundred.”

Nassor clenched his paddle. Was he really going to do this? His throat knotted. Why not? He’d soon be traveling back to his kingdom and starting a life filled with responsibilities. A life he’d never asked for. This was the last opportunity he had to enjoy sexual indulgence, to dodge duties.

He lifted his paddle. “One million dollars.”

Miss L turned her face to him, parting her lips. That got her attention, didn’t it? She lifted her hand to her chest, as if touching it to pace her heartbeat. Was this part of a game, or did he affect her on some level?

Don’t forget you’re buying her.

He listened to his inside voice. Of course…he could never seriously date a woman from the United States, let alone marry her. Which was why he was buying her temporarily, and would enjoy every moment with her.