by Lindsey Iler
Paralyzed in my seat, I watch my best friend paraded onto the stage. Her lips are painted to match the long, red dress she’s wearing. Her eyes cause bile to crawl up my throat, threatening to be emptied on the middle of our table. Dull. Disoriented. Misplaced. I’ve never seen her look so helpless and sickly.
“A one-of-a-kind Rolls-Royce!” Henry booms into the microphone, pride laced through his every word.
Delaney stands frozen until Henry nudges her. She snaps out of the trance and slides a shaky hand over the framed picture.
“The starting bid is twenty thousand dollars,” Henry announces. “Who wants to start the bids for this memorable beauty?”
One by one, paddles start to raise. Declan is in battle with another guy. His focus isn’t on the image of the car but locked on Delaney as if ownership is already his.
This can’t be happening. I clamp my eyes shut, hoping when I open them, Delaney will no longer be the shell of the girl I love. My eyelashes flutter, revealing Delaney’s trembling lips as she attempts to form a smile.
“Bid on her.” I grip Marek’s tuxedo jacket. “Bid now!” I shout, afraid we’ll be too late.
“I don’t want a Rolls-Royce.” He turns around in his chair, and every fiber of who I am pleads with him to raise his paddle, to fix something we had no idea is broken.
I stand, ready to fight a battle I’m unsure I can win. Alone on an island, I step forward, knowing damn well if I don’t do something, horror is what will be Delaney’s fate.
Dixon and Byron stare at me with bewildered looks. Breaker’s eyes dart back and forth between me and Delaney.
Marek grabs for his paddle. As he’s about to lift it, Breaker stands and reaches for his own, raising it high in the air.
“One million dollars!” he shouts. “One million dollars.” As he works his way through the crowd, he never drops his gaze from her.
Declan releases a defeated groan, tossing his paddle onto the table. It bounces off the vase, causing a loud crash.
“Going once.” Henry grimaces, forcing a smile on his face. After all, this money is going to charity. “Going twice,” he sighs. “Sold to Barrett Davenport. Please see the attendant at the front desk outside these doors to arrange payment.”
Breaker swoops under Delaney’s arm, dragging her from the room.
“We need to go.” I circle my finger and grab my clutch from the table. “Now.”
“What the hell is going on?” Dixon asks, looking at his brother.
“Don’t look at me. I have no idea,” Byron says as they stand to follow me.
Out in the empty hallway, I approach the man behind the black cloth-covered table. He smiles when he sees me.
“Did a girl in a red dress come by here? She would have been with a blond guy, tattoos on his hands,” I ask, glancing down at the table and picking up a credit card. “This is Breaker’s.” I flash it at Marek, who’s so close behind me, we may as well be one person.
“He threw it at me and said to charge his bid,” the man explains. “The girl with him looked like she wasn’t feeling well.”
“What the hell is going on?” Dixon asks, gasping for breath as he catches up with us.
“We need to go to the house. That’s where he would have taken her, right?” I head for the exit without checking to see if they follow. It doesn’t matter, because I can’t even collect my thoughts.
Marek hands the valet our ticket, and we jump in the second the car is brought around front. As though sensing my urgency, Marek races through campus, one hand on my shaking leg to try to calm me. Dixon brushes the back of my head. Byron remains still and quiet. While I appreciate their efforts, nothing works.
The Escalade slows in front of the house, and I jump out. The contents of my stomach purge from my body. Marek rushes to my side and rubs small circles against my clammy skin.
“Head inside. We’ll be there in a minute,” Marek instructs.
My ribs ache from my stomach fighting its natural state. I stand to Marek offering me his bow tie. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
“You went to make a bid.”
“I may have, but I don’t know why you wanted me to. You looked scared, so fiercely protective in a way I’ve never seen, so I knew there had to be a reason why.”
“You need to get in here!” Dixon yells out the front door. Without a second thought, I drop the bow tie and race inside. “She’s in here,” he instructs.
We move through the house, into the guest bathroom. Breaker is behind Delaney, holding her hair away from her face. I crouch down beside her and rub circles on her back.
“Grab me a rag and wet it with extremely cold water.”
“She hasn’t thrown anything up. She’s been fighting consciousness.” Breaker pries his attention from Delaney and transfers it to me. I’ve never seen him rattled like he is now.
“Okay, Delaney, you aren’t going to be a fan of me in a minute.” I break my stare-down with Breaker and force my attention on her. “Just don’t bite me, okay?” I instruct, earning a grunt in response. “Good girl.”
I pull her up on her knees while leaning her body further over the toilet. Without warning, I jam my finger down her throat. Vomit immediately meets the tip.
“Holy shit!” Dixon shouts when he walks in with the wet washcloth. “Here.”
“There you go. Get it out, baby girl,” I say softly, hoping the cold makes what pain she’s in less debilitating for a moment.
For the longest ten minutes of my life, she alternates between ridding her body of whatever was fed to her and fighting against closing her eyes. After a minute or two when she hasn’t groaned, I tell Breaker to pick her up and put her in the guest bed. I run ahead of them to deal with the sheets.
I push a wide-eyed Marek, Dixon, and Byron towards the door, telling them I need to get her out of the dress.
“You need to leave, too.” I turn to Breaker, going through the motions. Tending to Delaney is the only thing keeping me calm.
“Palmer, I’ve seen her naked before.”
“I don’t give a shit, Breaker.” Tears I didn’t know were there, stream down my face. “Whatever happened to her tonight, she’s not capable of consenting to you being in here, and I think, with what I can only assume, she deserves better.”
Once he’s gone, I stare at her body twisted up on the bed. The red dress looks foreign against her skin.
“Oh, what happened to you, D?” I whisper, working the buttons along her back.
The door opens, and I tug the sheet over her.
“Here’s some clothes for her.” Marek waves them through the small crack. I take them, clutching them to my chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not what matters right now,” I answer, annoyed he’d be putting me before my best friend.
“Maybe not to you, but to me, you’re what matters. I need to know you’re okay.”
I slide down the wall. A relentless burn starts in the middle of my chest, working its way out with every breath I release.
“I’ll be okay when I know she is.” I lick my lips, suddenly aware of my own body. The numbness has worn off.
“Okay.” His voice is low. Footsteps in the hallway, heading away from the room, tell me he’s given me what he knows I need. Space to figure out how I plan to handle this.
Five minutes is all I give myself. This isn’t about me. For once, my best friend needs me, and I refuse to throw a pity party over how hard it is on me for her being hurt.
Once she’s fully dressed, I open the door to find the four of them leaning against the wall across the hall. Their heads are hung low, heavy with worry and care.
Throughout the night, everyone stays in the room, waiting and watching for her to show any sign of distress. She sleeps soundly, with Breaker on one side and me on the other. Marek hovers above my side of the bed, reaching down to check on me. His presence calms me.
“Close your eyes, baby.” He leans down and kisses the crown
of my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Wake me if she moves, even just a little bit,” I plead.
“You have my word.”
And I fall asleep, knowing that I do.
In the middle of the night, a guttural cry startles me awake. My eyes take a second to adjust, and when they do, I see Delaney crying into Breaker’s chest, apologizing. What does she have to be sorry for?
“Delaney,” I whisper. She twists in the bed, releasing her hold on Breaker and transferring it to me. It’s tight enough to ensure I won’t take another breath tonight. “You’re okay. I promise, you’re okay.” We cry together.
“Why am I here?” Her eyes shift from the formal dress I’m wearing to her oversized shorts and shirt. It’s as if her entire memory of last night has been erased.
“Do you not remember anything from tonight, aside from volunteering?” I ask.
She shakes her head in response. “What’s going on?”
“Honey, you were drugged,” I explain, hating every second of having to be the one to tell her. “They were trying to sell you, not the items they claimed were up for auction.”
“What?” Marek springs up from the end of the mattress.
“Am I the only one who figured that out?” I look at each of them, ending on Breaker. Recollection settles deep into his eyes. “Isn’t that why you bid on her?” I ask him.
“No, I bid on her because I saw the panic in your eyes. I’ve only ever seen that fear in one other person’s eyes, and I knew I needed to listen to it,” he explains.
“You just trusted my instinct and dove headfirst?” I question, my chest warming with the trust he continues to show me.
“Loyalty goes a long way with us, Palmer. You have mine. Whatever worries you, worries me.” Breaker’s sincerity is all-consuming, and overwhelmed tears break free.
“But why Delaney?” Byron asks the question everyone is wondering. “And how did you figure it out?”
“You learn to read people when you’re treated like a social pariah. I’ve spent the last year watching everyone around me, looking for cues, for anything really. Declan was far too eager to see Delaney. The men bidding were moderately young alumni, and if I’m being honest, Henry Lexington doesn’t have a saintly bone in his body.” I grab my best friend’s hand and squeeze it. “Call it a hunch, but we can all agree that when we walked into that room, everything felt off.”
“You bid on me?” Delaney croaks out. “How much?”
“It’s nothing.” He tucks her hair behind her ear, caressing her face to comfort her.
“Tell me,” she demands, angrier than I think she expected by the wide eyes glaring at us.
“A million dollars,” he mutters under his breath.
“Excuse me?” She springs up on her knees, her eyes shooting daggers at Breaker. “I will pay you back every penny.”
“Money doesn’t mean shit to me, Delaney.” Breaker holds out his hand, waiting for her to take it. Once she does, he sighs in relief.
“We still don’t know why Delaney was placed in the middle of this nightmare,” Dixon reminds us.
“I think I may be able to help with that,” Delaney whispers. “On the stage, Henry whispered, ‘Keeping a friend’s secret makes you guilty by association.’ I thought I’d dreamed it, but I guess not.”
“Do you think he’s referring to me?” I observe, running the idea through my mind. What secret is he talking about? I only have one. “The notebook,” I blurt. “What if the notebook has something to do with all of this? I was attacked over something far more valuable than my body, remember?”
“Do you think I can look at that notebook sometime?” Dixon asks, pushing out of the chair he’s been sitting in all night.
“Sure, but I don’t think you’ll find anything.”
“I’m sort of a genius, so you never know.” He waves at Delaney before heading for the door. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
Everyone laughs because it’s a typical Dixon Decatur response.
“I’m going to bed, too,” Byron announces, his emotions perfectly in place, never truly showing much of them.
My stomach growls so loud, I can’t stop laughing.
“Why don’t you go get my best friend something to eat?” Delaney commands Marek. He isn’t one to take orders. This one, though, I think he’s happy to oblige.
“Are you going to be okay?” Marek looks down at Delaney, watching Breaker pull up the covers.
“Thanks to all of you, I suppose I will be.” Her lips twitch into a forced smile. She’s trying to put on a brave face, but it’s not there.
“I’ll be right down the hallway, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me up.” I lean down and kiss Delaney’s hair. She shoos me away, not one to be fussed over. Before I walk out, I glance back one more time to see Breaker holding her. She’ll be fine. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but she’ll be okay.
Taking the stairs slowly gives me time to take my first deep breath in a while. In the kitchen, I find Marek making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He cuts it down the middle, takes a bite out of one half, and offers me the other. In silence, his gaze locks on me as I settle on the other side of the island.
There’s something to be said about a man who won’t look away first, making sure you know you are being seen.
“You can’t hide it, Palmer.” He pushes off the countertop, stalking around the island to wrap an arm around my hips.
“What are you referring to, exactly?” I shudder as his fingers skim down my bare back. After the night we’ve had, I despise myself a little bit for playing into his hand.
“How much you hate yourself for wanting me.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask, biting the corner of my bottom lip, as if that will stop me from doing the one thing I shouldn’t.
“I’m a fucking monster, Palmer. I’ve done horrendous things in this life. I’ll probably do more. I’ve held others’ feelings with little to no regard because I’m as selfish as they come.” His hand presses tighter into my flesh, holding my body to his. “And here you stand, the fiercest woman I’ve ever known, allowing me to put dents in you.”
“I’m not breakable, Marek.”
“Just another reason why I want to try.” The blues of his eyes shimmer with the thrill of his thought. “Like I said, I’m a monster, Palmer, but if you allow me in, I’ll make sure you enjoy every second of my torment. Tonight solidified it for me. We’re inevitable.”
“And if I don’t let you in fully?”
“Don’t you get it? You already have.” His lips drop to my collarbone, tracing a path made of sin, desire, and just enough fight to make this fun for both of us.
Marek’s large hands grip my waist, placing me on the countertop.
“Tell me more about this torment,” I whisper, running my fingers through his hair.
A tortured, yet beautiful grin sparks alive on his face. He fists the center seam of my dress, ripping in opposite directions, deepening the slit to the apex of my thighs. My center clenches at the thought of what’s going to come next.
He takes off my panties and drops them to the kitchen floor. When Marek leans away to appreciate every bit of me, the pressure inside me builds as I wait for his next move.
There’s something to say about desire. It’s unbridled. What Marek and I share isn’t love. Loving someone is simple. Desire is love set on fire.
When I look at the man in front of me, every part of my being gravitates in his direction. I curl my finger in the air, inviting him forward. His movement is slow, and his eyes drop to my chest as it rises and falls with shallow breaths.
He doesn’t say a single word. Instead, he shops his eyes around my body, choosing what parts he wants to feel, to taste, the most.
I reach forward, unhooking his belt and slipping it from the loops, offering it as I hold out my hands to him. He grins, knowing what I’m asking.
“Lay down,” he demands. “And hold your hands abov
e your head. Let me help you forget what you saw tonight.”
I do as he says, watching as he covers my body with his. His eyebrows crunch together in that cute way they always do when he’s concentrating. There’s a tight pinch around my wrists and a cool sensation brushing against my skin. His look of determination is replaced with pure satisfaction. One quick glance above me, and I find my hands tied to the kitchen faucet.
“You’re kinky for an eighteen-year-old.” I smile, tugging on my restraints to see if it will hold. It barely budges.
“Boy Scouts paid off for a lot of us,” he whispers in my ear, biting the lobe as he stands. I spread my legs and wiggle until the fabric drapes further away from my body.
Marek unbuttons his pants, reaches under the waistband of his boxer briefs, and runs his hand up and down his shaft.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, baby.”
“Funny because I was just thinking the same thing.” He pulls the bow tie I abandoned from his pocket, then wraps it around my head, covering my eyes and rendering me void of sight. “That’s more like it.”
“You like your girls helpless?” My body is ablaze with want and undeniable need for this boy.
“No, but I do like my control,” Marek says, running his hands up and over my body. “How does it feel to be at my complete disposal?”
“You can’t scare me, Marek.”
“You sure about that?”
I squirm from the question, trying my hardest to rub my thighs together to find some relief.
A drawer opens from somewhere to my left, and metal mingling with metal has my senses on high alert. Being blindfolded and tied up puts the rest of my senses on high alert.
“Do you trust me?” Marek asks.
Do I trust him? That’s the question I’ve been asking myself since they told me their reasoning behind attacking me.
A cool material trails over my open hand. The edges are sharp. A knife.
“Well, do you, Palmer?”
Chapter Seven
Marek
“Give me a reason to.”
My eyes lock on the silver edge. It would be too easy to slice her skin, damaging the very thing I’ve promised to care for. I run the sharp point along her hand and down her arm. As the blade hits her collarbone, goose bumps form on her body.
