“May I call you Sir?” she asks me in a delicate voice that begs me to take her.
Her soft voice and perfect submission call to me. But I’m not interested in rules and games. The stakes in this game are much too high to play.
It hits me then, with her question, that she’s mine. That I can do with her as I please. My dick hardens in my pants just thinking about the sweet sounds that would pour from her lips. I keep my back straight as I adjust my cock to keep it from pressing against the zipper.
I’d love to get lost in her lush curves and bury myself deep inside her. But this is business. And the desires I have aren’t right. I tear my eyes away from her and look at the clock on the far wall. The second hand moves slowly, not a single tick audible as it moves seamlessly across the face. Counting time. That’s what I’ll be doing over the next month. That’s all this is.
She’s just another woman. My right hand sitting on the table balls into a fist at the thought, knowing it’s not true. I rap my knuckles against the table. The steady tapping fills the room as I realize how fucked this situation is.
She’s not just another woman. This would be too easy if she were. I wouldn’t have come here if it were true.
“Do you know why I bid on you?” I ask her as my eyes lift to her heart-shaped face.
“Because you wanted me to obey your every wish,” she answers in a gentle voice, the last word hanging in the air as I stare at her. Yes, a voice in the depths of my depravity calls out, begging me to take her as she offered. To give in and simply enjoy her.
“Do you know your Master offered you to me?” I ask her, although it’s not really a question. I shouldn’t have told her, but I want her to know, I want to see her reaction even more.
“Because my Master owes you?” she asks in a voice that doesn’t show what she’s feeling. It’s all a cognitive process, with no emotion involved. She’s hiding it from me.
“Yes, because your prick of a boyfriend owes me.” I’m intentionally cold, wanting a response, and she gives it to me.
Her eyes whip to mine and her lips press into a hard line. For a moment anger rises inside of me at the thought of her defending him, but her words cut through it, silencing it.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” As soon as the words are spoken, her posture returns to what it was.
More than her submission, her anger and her determination that she doesn’t belong to him make me want her that much more. Because she doesn’t have any claim to him anymore. Now she’s mine.
I haven’t wanted anyone like this in a long damn time. Maybe not ever. It must be the forbidden aspect of it, the dark desires I’ve only ever observed from a distance. My eyes glance over her face, waiting for more from her, trying to determine what it is about her that’s forcing my hand and only making me want her with more desperation as every minute passes.
She’s a siren. Luring me to a depth that already has me making mistakes.
She’s the reason I’m in this mess. I felt for her. This business isn’t about emotions.
I rest my elbow on the table and lean forward, the legs of my chair scooting across the floor and making a screeching noise.
“Can I trust you?” I ask her, finally feeling a hint of a smile reaching my lips.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Don’t call me Sir,” I immediately say and my command comes out sharp, but she doesn’t flinch. My harsh manner doesn't affect her in the least.
“What would you like me to call you?” she asks in an even voice, perfectly still.
I let out a heavy sigh and sit back in my chair. My ankles cross as I look back at her.
“My name is Zander, and you can call me that.”
Her lashes flutter as she nods her head and answers obediently, “Yes, Zander.”
“I don’t really like… the lifestyle,” I tell her, that smile apparent as I start to spin a beautiful web, something to distract her maybe, something to hide behind. “As a kink, I understand it. But I’m not interested in having a Slave or a twenty-four seven power exchange.”
Her posture relaxes slightly. “What do you like?” she says, and as she asks me the question, she licks her lips in a nervous manner and clears her throat, setting her clasped hands on the table. Her own mask is crumbling into pieces, and her true emotions are showing. Her voice is lowered and flat.
She’s nervous, unhappy even. I’m taken aback for a moment. I hadn’t expected this reaction.
“What do you think I like?” I ask her in return. My eyes travel over every one of her features, waiting for more information on her. Everyone has a tell, and I can spot a lie from even the most deceitful men.
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” She swallows again and stares at her hands as she fidgets and pinches her fingertips. “I know I’m here to pay a debt. And that you’ll use me,” she adds and closes her eyes and takes in an uneven breath to steady herself. The smile falls from my face completely.
“I won’t do a damn thing to you that you don’t want. Let’s make that clear right now.” My firm voice makes her open her eyes. They’re glassy with tears and something else, distrust.
“I promise you. If you don’t want me in the least, you can walk through that door and this all ends.”
“He’ll-”
“He won’t do a damn thing to you. Daniel Brooks owes me money; you don’t owe anyone.”
“I owe him,” she breathes the words her face a reflection of nothing but pain. “I do,” Arianna starts to say something, but she doesn’t finish. I feel my forehead scrunch as I try to figure out what the hell she’s getting at. And then it hits me.
“If you don’t want me, you can simply leave.” The words, I’ll forgive the debt and you’ll be free are on my lips, but a hiss of a whisper in the darkest part of my mind pleads with me to wait for her reply.
“I do want you,” she says and her gorgeous eyes stare into mine again, piercing through me and threatening to learn every secret I hold.
I want to tell her to leave, to get rid of her. She already has too much power over me; she makes me weak. She makes me foolish. But she wants me. And I can’t deny I crave the idea of her submitting to me.
“You’re going to do everything I say.” I don’t think as I speak, another side of me taking over.
“Yes, Zander.”
“We’ll start tomorrow at six in the evening,” I tell her, looking straight ahead and past her. My eyes focus on a small dimple on the white wall. An imperfection in the otherwise spotless facade of the conference room.
“What… what will you require?” she asks with slight hesitation.
“Whatever I want,” I answer her simply. It’s not the answer she wants, but she nods her head, her eyes focused on a dark knot in the center of the hard wood table.
“Until tomorrow,” I say easily although not a damn thing in me is relaxed.
“Until tomorrow,” she repeats in merely a whisper.
As she walks away, I find myself watching the sway of her hips and imagining taking her over and over. She turns to look over her shoulder one last time, her hand gripping the edge of the door. She licks her lower lip once, drawing my eyes to that beautiful mouth of hers. She starts to say something, but I can’t hear her.
“Speak louder,” I say and my voice reverberates off the walls. She startles slightly and lowers her head.
“I just said thank you.” Her eyes don’t meet mine as she says the words with an uneven cadence. The need to comfort her makes me grip the table harder, keeping me in place.
I nod my head once, watching her face as I dismiss her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She leaves quietly this time, not looking back at me or meeting my gaze. It’s only when she’s left that I feel like I can breathe. It’s also when I realize how fucked I am.
How Brooks paid his bills isn’t any of my damn business. I never should have gone to that fucking auction.
I could have made an example of him and spared Arianna, such a swee
theart, so undeserving of this.
I made a mistake. And I know exactly why.
It’s because of her. The temptation of having her, of owning her… I caved to it.
I don’t trust her. But I’ll be damned if I don’t want her.
Chapter 10
Arianna
Yes, because your prick of a boyfriend owes me.
Zander’s biting words run through my mind as I turn over in my bed, a stream of early morning sunlight peeking through the blinds of my window. His words make me feel like a pawn. An object to be moved around on a chessboard and discarded when no longer useful.
I wrap my arms around my chest tightly, trying to ward away that worthless feeling that keeps threatening to suffocate me.
Madam Lynn’s words come back to me. You have the option to terminate this contract whenever you wish.
Even Zander told me that I could leave if I didn’t want him. But I didn’t take the out he offered, and I’m ashamed. My skin pricks from the swell of emotion in my chest.
If I leave Zander, Danny will have me back. I’m a coward for hiding behind another man. Especially in this way. But knowing I’m temporarily his, gives me time and protection. My eyes stray over to my canvas. Painting almost always gives me solace when I’m stressed or feeling down. After stretching, I roll out of bed and ready my brushes and colors. I’m not even in the mood to go get coffee. I just want to paint and get lost in the art, forget about everything. I only get a few strokes done before the door opens behind me.
“Ari?” asks Natalie tentatively. It’s odd, being in an apartment around someone normal when the reality of my life is nothing like hers. I don’t fit in. I never have; I was always trying but never succeeding. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I turn around to see her standing in the doorway, still dressed in her pink polka dot pajamas, her hair tousled, peering at me with a grin on her face. “Yes, cavewoman?” I joke halfheartedly, mostly to try to hide my feelings, to pretend everything’s alright. Natalie lets out a snort. “Cavewoman? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re not exactly Cleopatra when you just roll out of bed either.”
I huff out a mirthless chuckle. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Anyway, hater,” Natalie says as she pulls her phone out of her pajama pocket, waving at me excitedly as she walks into the room, “you have got to see Sarah’s ankle! She just got this tattoo done, and I love it!”
“Let me see.” I wipe my hands on the cloth I use to clean up with, and take the phone from her hands to take a look. It’s a picture of a black rose on her ankle. It’s super realistic, but it only reminds me of the rose I held yesterday as I was sold.
Natalie grins at me as I stare at the photo. “Do you like it? I think it looks awesome.” She taps her finger to her cheek, her expression turning thoughtful as I try to will the memory away and return to just pretending. “I’m thinking about getting the same one, but maybe on my wrist. And I was wondering if you wanted to be the one to do it?”
I don’t immediately respond, my eyes still focused on the image of the rose.
“Ari?” Natalie presses, her voice filling with worry. “What’s wrong?”
I tear my eyes away from the image to see the concern in Natalie’s eyes. A part of me wants to tell her everything. About Danny. About the auction. Zander. But I ignore that part; I don’t want to drag her into this, so instead I just say, “Danny and I aren’t getting along right now.” I’m unable to keep the frustration I feel with my situation from seeping into my voice. Natalie gazes at me with worry. “What’s wrong? Did something get out of hand again?”
It sure fucking did.
It hurts me not to tell Natalie the truth. She’s been my only friend for the longest time, and she's the only person I have left that I fully trust. But I know deep down telling her will do more harm than good.
I pass back her phone. “Not really. I just think we need a break from each other.”
Natalie slips her phone back into her pocket and places her hands on her hips. “Come on, I know you’re not telling me everything. Something got out of hand again and you just don’t want to admit it.”
Oh Nat, it’s much, much worse than that, I think darkly.
“It’s fine,” I lie, hating myself for it. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”
Natalie’s frown deepens. “You’re lying to me.”
I don’t know how to respond. I can see that she cares so much about me. She knows about my troubled past and all of what I went through, and just doesn’t want to see me hurt. But I don’t know how to tell her without making things worse.
Right then, my cell buzzes on the nightstand.
I tell Natalie, “Hold on a sec,” as I walk over to it, grateful for the interruption. It’s a text message from Zander.
My driver will be at your apartment at 5:15 to pick you up.
The event is black tie. Wear a gown if you have one.
Be ready,
Z
“What was that?” Natalie asks, walking over, but I stick my phone back into my pocket before she can ask to see.
“Nothing,” I reply, walking back over to my canvas while feeling like total shit for having to lie. “Just some dumb prick texting the wrong number.”
Chapter 11
Zander
I admire punctuality. It says something about a lack of respect when a person is late. I half expected Arianna to be late for Marcus, my driver.
The cufflinks clink as I pick them up off the dresser and slip them into place, locking them and pulling down my sleeves slightly. I straighten my tie as I stare at myself in the mirror. I’ve always felt comfortable in a tux, but not today. Everything feels tight and suffocating.
I haven’t given her a single reason to respect me, but she at least respects the contract.
It’s obvious she doesn’t want to do this, but I’ll give her enough to desire at least a business relationship with me.
Tonight will be dinner, an interview in a way. That’s all a dinner really is, just an interview.
I check my phone on the dresser, the dim light brightening the dark bedroom and see that the photographers will be there to catch a candid shot. I’ll pretend I don’t see them, just like I always do. I huff a humorless laugh at the ideal headlines PR is looking for.
Eligible Bachelor Falling Head Over Heels.
Love at First Sight for the Family Heir.
I can woo her. I’ll get the photographs I need to create the image I want. I don’t know how much I’d like to tell Arianna. My gut tells me to be truthful, to have her in on the charade. But the very thought of trusting her makes me panic.
I trust no one. But I can give her enough to go on.
The only loose end is Daniel Brooks.
My phone pings just as I set it back on the dresser. Charles.
I read the text silently and then pull back, running my fingers through my hair and slicking it back some before ruffling it in a way that looks careless. I take my time with it, making sure it looks just right.
Charles will take care of Brooks. I only need him to keep an eye on things for now. To make sure he stays in place until I figure out how to handle this.
Ideally, I can convince Arianna to keep the money for herself. The thought of Brooks’ face when he finds out… how his expression will fall, that cocky glint in his eye will vanish.
But first, the interview. I need to know who she is and what she really wants. A background check can only tell you so much about a person, even one as in depth as what I received. Don’t disappoint me, Miss Owens.
“She won’t,” the words slip past my lips as I shrug on my jacket. They hang in the air of my dark bedroom, holding a threat. I better be right about her.
My phone pings again, causing a spike of annoyance to run through me and this time it’s Marcus, right on time with Arianna in tow.
I quickly make my way to the front doors, my strides so fast that I create a breeze as I climb down the stairs.
&
nbsp; I breathe out a heavy exhale as I unlock the door, swinging it open and preparing for another evening of playing the role I was born into.
The moment I lay eyes on Arianna, the negative air that practically smothers me day in and day out, dissipates into the chill of early spring. Marcus is holding the door open for her, one of her small hands in his as her slender legs step out of the car one at a time, her heels clicking on the driveway. It’s something about her expression that catches me off guard. Maybe it's the subtle way she brushes her gown and tucks a strand of her hair back as she stands tall as she takes in a deep breath.
She’s as stunning as ever. I don’t know what it is about her. She’s not overly sexual, and there’s not a single thing I can pinpoint that makes her exceptional. But every time I see her, my world pauses for only a moment. A single point in time where everything stands still, the air in my lungs halting and my heart slowing. There’s a quality of innocence and sadness about her that makes me crave something I’ve never felt before.
I wish I could ignore it.
Her eyes widen when she sees me standing in the doorway staring back at her, and the smile I loathe creeps up and into place, but this time it feels different.
It’s an odd thing that I’ve noticed. Everyone looks at me the same. Their eyes travel up and down my clothing, taking in the details. Businessmen before a board meeting, lower-level thugs at the corner of the street with information, even the vixens that wait late at night at the bars or casinos, hoping to sink their bright red nails into me for a piece of the money. They all look at me the same. Judging, assessing. I can practically see the wheels turning. Some are faster than others, but all of them have telltale signs of what they think.
Arianna is different. The expression on her face tells me she wants me, not my money. The lust turns her eyes glassy and makes her breathing come in short as her eyes linger down my body. But rather traveling back up to meet my gaze, she turns slightly away as the door closes and she thanks Marcus, her soft voice carried away by the gentle gust of the wind. It makes her hair blow, exposing more of her bare shoulder and her skirt clings to her right side.
Given: Highest Bidder Page 6
