Chapter Text
2017
“Three hundred fifty thousand for the Diamond! Do I have an offer for six hundred thousand!”
How did this happen to you?
“Six hundred thousand to the Spades! Do we have an offer for eight hundred thousand? This beauty will go to the highest bidder, gentlemen! None of the other merchandise has skin this pretty, eyes as bright! You really going to let this one go?”
What did you do to deserve this?
“We have an offer for eight hundred thousand! Let’s hear it for one million! Any bidders for one million?”
You trembled as you stood there, like a damned animal, you were trapped inside a glass box. Exposed and centered on a stage for their liking. Your wrists were bound to the ground, chaining you down even when you had nowhere to go without it. It was excessive. It must’ve been intentional, you think.
These sick fuckers must've wanted to drill it into your mind that you had nowhere to go.
No escape.
No freedom.
Bound.
You stood there like some spectacle; half naked in your underwear and kept inside a cage. You could feel your blood rushing, your heart pounding and your head aching with a migraine. It felt so wrong. So inhumane to be standing there waiting to see which one of the men sitting in their designated private lounges across from you would offer the highest amount and inevitably take you home to do God knows what.
You’ve heard the stories, seen the news- you weren’t stupid enough to be ignorant of what could happen to you. Of what your fate could be.
You flinched when the auctioneer slammed his palm against the podium in front of him and flashed a dazzling smile at the older man -looking around sixty at least with gray hair and a wrinkly, weak frame- raising his hand for the offer.
The harsh spotlight raining down at you burned at your skin but you refused to crack under the pressure.
You refused to show any more weakness than you already did. Your stubbornness was laughable. It would do nothing against these people. You were terrified standing there, waiting for the executioner to swing down his sword when the auctioneer would call out his verdict. Of who it was you would belong to after tonight. Human rights? Basic human decency? Yeah, right.
You would have none of that.
The second you were sold, you were nothing more than property.
It’s almost ironic.
It’s almost ironic how despite the fact that you were the one inside a cage, everyone else out there watching you- bidding for you seemed much more of an animal than you were.
Fucking hell.
Tears blurred your vision but you forced yourself not to cry. You tried to will yourself to stop shaking so much. As vulnerable as you were, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of breaking your will. Was this bravado pointless? Maybe. But this was the only thing you had left.The only thing you could hold on to.
The only thing you were in control of.
So for now it was enough.
You lied to yourself with that.
“We got one million! Let’s raise the stakes to two mill! Do I hear an offer for two?”
Maybe this was your fault.
Maybe none of this would've happened if you had just called the cops instead of getting involved. You might’ve been at home, cozy and safe in your bed watching the news of how some other girl was missing. Your mom would sigh, look at you and thank God you weren't caught up in something like that. Your dad would preach on about the dangers of society and how you should be more careful around the streets at night.
Your heart stung at the thought. It was selfish, yes. It was wrong and cruel and simply fucked up to think, but if you hadn't played the part of good samaritan; stopping the girl from getting shoved in a van, you wouldn't be here instead of her.
You were walking home after your shift at the restaurant you worked at, SHIELD, when you heard voices ringing down the street. It was around two in the morning, your boss begging you to stay overtime because two of your coworkers had called in with an excuse of the flu. Of course you knew better than to believe they were actually sick.
Having called in three times before with the same exact reasoning, it didnt take a genius to realize that those two were lying again.
So there you were, staying late and getting home late. Luckily you didnt have class the next day so you didnt worry about falling asleep during a lecture. You were dead tired, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep the night away when you heard a feminine, panicked scream change halfway into muffled struggles.
You should’ve kept walking.
Should've hid in the dark and taken out your phone to call authorities.
You shouldn't have sprinted to the source, flinging yourself to the attackers while trying to help the poor girl get away.
You shouldn’t have gotten involved.
There was no one else in these streets.No one else but the people involved. The girl you’d helped took the time you spent struggling with the attackers to run, not even sparing you a single glance.
You could understand it.
She was scared, her adrenaline was rushing,she was in hysterics-
but still.
“Two million! We got two over there, any for three!”
It stung when the last thing you saw was her running figure getting smaller and smaller as she got farther and farther.
“Four! Four mil and you’ll take this pretty thing home!”
It hurt when the attackers held you down by the neck.
“Six! We got an offer for six for the lady in red!”
It was chilling when the last thing you heard was,
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved babygirl.”
Yeah.
“Six mill! Going once, going twice- sold for six million!”
You shouldn't have gotten involved.
2019
Rough, calloused hands roam over the slope of your hips with intent. You want to scowl at him, pull away and move from his lingering touch but you stay strong. You keep batting those lashes, you stay smiling with mischievous red lips and you keep your hand at his chest- subtly encouraging his unwanted attention.
It’s unwanted but needed.
In this world, gaining favor was power.
And attention from a man like Richard Vince, gave you enough protection against other members from his gang. You smile warmly at him, eyes dropping to the chain around his neck. It’s thick and heavy from the diamonds encrusted in the gold. As pretty as it was, it did little to hide the ugliness of its owner.
Pure, utter filth.
You feign bashfulness when you see him staring at you (he seems to really like that) and bit on your lip. You’ve tried building this whole persona for him. To appeal as much as you could to the damn bastard. All this hard work had to pay off.
It had to.
There’s a flash of desire in his eyes and his grip around your hip gets a fraction tighter.
“Rose,”
He rumbles, voice dripping with want,
“Be mine. Only mine.”
He lifts a hand to caress your face,
“Let me collar you.”
Collar.
You want to scream in panic. To collar a flower in The Red Room was to stake claim. It meant ownership. It meant no one else could touch you but the one who collared you. It meant exclusivity.
It meant untouchable.
The women who worked in The Red Room were called flowers.
Every girl working here was a flower. Beautiful women of all shapes and sizes brought here for the pleasure of men. Dangerous men. The only exception were those who had higher value- the ones only powerful men could afford. Those women were named after specific flowers. As of now, there were only six.
Lily, Buttercup, Daisy, Lavender, Marigold and you;
Rose.
You fought hard to get where you were. You threw away your pride to become Rose. You kissed ass, forced your anger down and obeyed the best you could. It was your only shot of freedom. Or at least, safety.
Flowers who don’t bring in any profit get sent to the chain brothels in run down counties.
The Red Room at least had some type of protocol on the kind of men sleeping with the women here. No one with diseases were allowed. After all, what good would the flower be if she caught something? The Mistress spent good money for all the women here. They were specifically picked and pointed out. They couldn’t be disposed of so easily, especially if she was making good money.
The brothels had no such system.
“You mean it?”
You ask quietly, furrowing your brows as you tried to muster up the softest expression you could. It took all you had to disguise your disgust with a sickeningly sweet voice,
“You want to collar me?”
Say no, God please, say no. Your blood goes cold as you wait for his response. Richard nods, seeming entranced by your softness. You want to roll your eyes, spit on him and bite the damn hand on your hip off, but you don’t. You simply work those eyes on him and he melts. You might’ve felt bad if it weren’t for the fact you saw him shove his gun in a flower’s mouth and shoot her like that when she couldn’t get him off. He’d paid The Mistress 6 Million for the “damage of her property” and everything was swept under the rug.
He had money.
Lots of it.
And that was why he was still allowed in The Red Room.
You shudder, forcing those thoughts away.
You know for a fact a reason why you became so valuable was because you were a virgin.
The first day you were working as a flower, some man low in rank got too handsy and was trying to shove a hand up your dress, but you screamed and fought back. Rumlow, the security guy, had dragged you by the hair to the Mistress’ office where you had been “disciplined”.
Waterboarding was a bitch.
And when the truth came out that you were a virgin, you could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes.
A virgin among the flowers was rare.
In fact, it was unprecedented.
And because of that, you were immediately sought after. Something about “fresh, unused pussy” seemed to rile the men and lure the big fish out. From then on, The Mistress had Grant Ward guarding you to make sure no one tried to force you. In other words, she had a price tag for your virginity.
She was waiting for the biggest fish you could lure.
Being collared might’ve been a good thing. It meant you didn’t have to entertain multiple men anymore. You were off limits to everyone but the one who collared you. But this was Richard Vince.
Richard Vince who was really, really, really fucked up.
Richard Vince was in one word, psychotic.
You had been Richard’s favorite.
Whenever he visited The Red Room, he would always book your company. He was your regular. Your biggest benefactor.
He wasnt allowed to touch you, but it seemed that made him want you more. The restrictions of it appealed to him.
You found out just how insane he was when you caught wind of how your other two regulars were found dead days after he saw them with you. He was obsessive, insanely jealous and had wholeheartedly believed you were in love.
It may not have been smart to play it on, but his interest in you had warded off many other dangerous men who were equally as insane.
It was better to have one psycho than seven.
“Yes, My Rose. I want to collar you. I’ve spoken to the Mistress.”
God, no. Fuck. You could feel the tears well up in your eyes. It was fine having his attention because he couldnt touch you. But the minute he collared you, The Red Room would no longer have someone guarding you. Your virginity would belong to Richard.
You would belong to Richard.
You open your mouth, unable to respond but knowing you had to. What do you say in this situation? You felt yourself on the brink of a meltdown. You didn’t want to belong to him. You just wanted to go home.
“Vince.”
You flinched, quickly turning to see who had just spoken. The rough, soothing sound of this intruder’s voice had shivers raking up your spine. Sucking in a breath, your eyes widened at what you found.
A tall, muscled blonde, blue eyed man with a thick beard stood before you.
His eyes were blazing with anger and you instinctively moved away from Richard. It felt as if you would catch on fire from the heat in his eyes. And although you knew that anger wasn’t directed at you, you had a feeling you’d be collateral damage if you didn’t move away fast enough.
The movement caught the blonde’s eyes.
You don’t know how long you two stared at each other, but it was long enough for you to have noticed the red gleam coming from his hand. You blinded yourself from that haze you got sucked into and shifted your gaze to his hand.
Fuck.
Around his ring finger on his right hand was a ringz
The blood red ring.
The blood red ring belonging to one man in specific.
This man was one of Brooklyn’s kings.
This man was Steve Rogers.
You swallowed, the hammering of your heart pounding in your ears. You needed to get away. To remove yourself from his gaze. But you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.
Not when he was pinning you down with just his gaze,
“Rose.”
Richard’s voice had gotten tight. Gone was the warmth. Gone was the affection. You looked at him from the corner of your eyes,
“Go to your room and wait for me.”
Richard licked his lips,
“We’ll finish this conversation later.”
You didnt wait for him to say it again.
You got up, quickly making your way out and felt his eyes on your back until you disappeared out that door. Those stunning baby blues had rendered you speechless. You heard rumors of how attractive Steve was, but you didn’t think it would be to this level.
Still, as handsome as the man was, you couldn’t get your mind off Richard. His words haunted you. He would come back to finish the conversation. You were still going to be collared.
Later that night, you would find out that you wouldn’t.
After all, you couldn’t belong to the dead, could you?