Page 2 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

My stomach dropped. What did she mean, hardly any of them were normal?

"You've got a shot at his bed tonight." The older woman looked at me. "Though in my experience, tall skinny girls are more their type. Probably only that elegant figure matches their status."

The moment she finished speaking, a piercing bell rang in my ears, followed by desperate sobbing.

A girl in a sea-blue bustier and white mini skirt was being dragged past my door by two men.

"Stop gawking." The older woman's voice was sharp. "You're next."

My heart slammed hard. Only now, as this became real, did I truly feel afraid.

Riley, this is a last resort. Just this once.

I repeated it over and over in my head, but my plummeting spirits wouldn't settle.

This wasn't the life I'd imagined.

I should've been working steady, saving money with my sister, working toward buying our own place. Instead, here I was at an auction house, waiting to be bought. And my first time—I'd wanted to save it for someone I truly cared about. But that chance was gone now.

Though thinking about it differently, there'd never been any possibility between us anyway.

He was the CEO of Bykov Group. That guy who was synonymous with wealth and ruthlessness. His tall, powerful frame wrapped in perfectly tailored designer suits, every gesture carrying an authority that made you look away.

I'd heard he built his jewelry empire before he turned thirty, and over these past dozen years, his business empire had spread across the globe.

And me? I was a nobody intern, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, invisible in the workplace... I'd worked at his company for two months, only catching distant glimpses of him a few times. He probably didn't even know I existed.

Most devastating of all? My waist even had the kind of extra softness that high society looked down on.

The universe was cruel like that. Better face reality.

They pinned me to the chair with practiced efficiency—makeup, hair, perfume. I was a product on an assembly line, about to be packaged and put on display.

"Remember to smile." The older woman poked the corner of my mouth with her makeup brush. "Don't piss off the buyers, especially that VIP. He's an important guest of our boss."

I forced my face into a stiff smile. So who was this VIP they kept talking about? Couldn't be the president, could it?

"Finally, a piece of merchandise that's better than expected." A middle-aged man pushed through the door and walked straight to me.

He wore a floral shirt unbuttoned to his chest, leering at me with his eyes.

Damn. He might as well have had "asshole" tattooed on his forehead.

"Let me see." He grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him. "You look like you're begging for it."

The two women stood behind him, expressionless.

Before I came here, I'd prepared myself—everyone in this place was an asshole. Spend enough time in a place like this, you'd turn into one eventually.

The next second, his gaze dropped to my chest.

"Now this is nice." His hand reached for my breast. "A body like yours? Some buyers are gonna love it. Because your tits are fucking huge."

My throat tightened. If I could, I'd rip his mouth apart.

I shrank back, pressing against the chair, trying to get away from his touch. Instead, he squeezed the flesh on my chest hard.

"Let go of me!" I twisted, trying desperately to break free. "Don't touch me!"