Highest Bidder Collection

by Lauren Landish

  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.

  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.

  When she looks back up, she doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “Miss Owens,” I say loud enough for her to hear as I walk down the three steps to greet her. I make sure the charming smile is on my face as I wrap my arm around her small waist and plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. Surprise lights her eyes up and she doesn’t respond for a moment. I don’t know what she expected, but I’ll surpass anything she’s ever experienced. I’ll make her want me. Want this. She’ll play the part so well, because I’ll make her believe it.

  “Mr. Payne,” her voice says my name in a sensual way that’s seemingly unintentional.

  “Just a moment, Marcus,” I tell my driver as he stands by the car. Marcus nods once. He’s an older man maybe in his sixties, but lean and cut from constantly working out. He takes pride in himself and what he does. He’s always worked for me, ever since I was sixteen or so. I didn’t trust him for years though. After all, it was my father who hired him. But on several occasions, he’s proven his loyalty to me and that he can keep secrets.

  Still, I’d rather him not hear what I have to tell Arianna. He may be trustworthy, but that doesn’t mean I have to take an unnecessary risk. I haven’t even confided in Charles. The less people who know, the better.

  I lean in a bit closer to Arianna, whispering in her ear as I splay my hand along her lower back and lead her into the house. “We need to leave for dinner shortly, but I wanted a private word inside.”

  “Yes, Si- Zander,” Arianna’s posture stiffens at her mistake, and I almost regret my plan… almost.

  The moment we’re inside, I shut the door and turn to her, slipping my hands into my pockets.

  “I’d like you to be my girlfriend,” I tell her simply.

  She turns on her heels to face me, a look of not understanding on her face. “I’m sorry?” she asks.

  I let out a charming chuckle, and walk the few steps to be closer to her. The house is so much warmer than outside, so much more welcoming.

  “You heard me,” I say and take her hand in both of mine. “I’d like you to be my girlfriend in place of what’s written in the contract.”

  A knowing look flashes in her eyes and those beautiful lips part as understanding shows in her expression. Again, she doesn’t respond like I thought she would. “A fake girlfriend?” she asks softly.

  I pull away slightly and shrug as I reply, “I’ve never had one, so I’m not sure if it’d be all that fake.” My words are casual, but calculated. I want her to believe in it. Of course it’s fake. Yet another mask to hide behind.

  Those dark green eyes pierce through me, not fooled by my tone in the least.

  I ignore her prying gaze and the disappointment on her expression. “You’ll be my girlfriend. Starting tonight, with a dinner date.” I plaster a fake-ass smile on my face and wait for her reaction.

  “Yes, Zander.” Her posture stiffens now that she knows the rules of this game. It’s an act and she’s ready to play the part. But I don’t want her to just play, I need it to feel real.

  “Would you talk that way to your boyfriend?” I ask her. My jaw clenches at the thought of her speaking to Brooks like that. I ignore the jealousy creeping up my spine and sending a chill over every inch of my skin.

  Arianna holds her clutch in both of her hands clasped in front of her and shakes her head slightly. “No,” she answers honestly.

  “Well then, it’s just Zander, alright?” I tell her with a feigned casualness. “None of that…” I don’t finish, not sure how to word her normal submission.

  “I don’t know how to…”

  “How to what, sweetheart?” The little nickname parts from me without my conscious decision, but the way she reacts makes me want to say a million times over. The soft curves of her face brighten, and a beautiful pink hue rises to her cheeks. She lowers her head a little, closing her eyes and sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she shakes her head slightly.

  “How to,” she starts to say with her eyes still closed and then opens them slowly, those gorgeous green eyes staring straight into me. The way only she can. “How to act tonight?” she asks in a voice so genuine, so sweet. Fuck, and all because I called her sweetheart? The shift in her is addicting. I love the smile. The light that I give her.

  This is why I can’t deny her.

  Chapter 12

  Arianna

  My heart feels like it's going to escape out my throat as I walk up the steps to Gargano’s Italiano restaurant, my heels clicking against the stamped concrete.
Wonder courses through my limbs as my eyes take in the gorgeous setting, the bright backlighting illuminating the entire area with soft golden light.

  I grip the railing as I walk beside Zander, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist. The stairway leads up to double doors that are surrounded by huge white Greek columns. There’s a ten-foot male statue fountain halfway up the steps, the columns of water spraying high into the air. Surrounding the stairs is lush green landscaping, sprinkled with well-manicured walkways and white stone benches.

  This is beautiful.

  I’m so enthralled with the picturesque scenery that I only make it a couple of steps before I nearly trip over my dress. He told me to wear a gown, and this is the only one I had. The strapless chiffon fabric is forgiving and doesn’t wrinkle which is a plus, but it’s a bit long for my petite stature.

  Shit.

  Zander quickly tightens his powerful arm around my waist, saving me, pulling me against his hard body, and forcing me upright. The smell of his masculine cologne tickles my nose as I suck in a grateful breath, my skin pricking from the heat emanating from him. He smells like a fresh breeze and sandalwood. It's both calming and intoxicating.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize softly from beneath lowered lashes, my face burning red with embarrassment. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Zander told me to act like his girlfriend, but all I’m succeeding at is being awkward. I’ve never done this before, and my insecurity doesn’t help. I feel like I’m not worth being on his arm, like it’s obvious this isn’t real. But I force a smile, trying to keep up appearances.

  Zander smiles back at me, moving his hand to my hip, and despite my nervousness, I can’t help but notice how handsome he is. He fucking owns the black tux and bow tie he’s wearing. I’ve seen many men in expensive suits at Club X, but I’ve never seen anyone wear one like he does. He radiates, power, wealth and sex like the sun radiates light. I’m breathless, being this close to him. Like I’m drowning. And I don’t want to come up for air.

  He chuckles as he says, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” It’s an odd thing, seeing how charming he is. I wasn’t expecting him to be like this after the signing. I didn’t expect any of this. And I don’t know how to react.

  “This place is beautiful,” I say when I catch my breath. I'm trying so hard to be polite and act normal.

  “If you think this is beautiful, wait until you see inside,” Zander boasts. His teeth sparkle when he smiles. It’s a beautiful look on him, that gorgeous smile, but it makes me feel uneasy.

  Keeping a firm hand on my waist, he leads me up the stairwell. I raise my head, trying to look regal and confident on his arm.

  As soon as we walk in, my breath catches in my throat as I take in the impressive architecture. Soft music plays over unseen speakers, setting the romantic ambience. We pass under impossibly high ceilings with massive archways that are decorated with silk sheers. I can see our reflections in the gleaming marble floors, and gorgeous intricate designs are inlaid across the surfaces.

  The walls are painted a soft golden color and the sconces on the wall gives off a warm, fuzzy glow, infusing the room with an angelic-like radiance.

  Tables are set with pure white cloth and the china and glasses are accented with gold. Expensive. This place looks fucking expensive.

  And the people. Everyone here is dressed in their finest.

  “You’re right,” I murmur, feeling extremely insecure. I lack the confidence of the other women around me. I have to look out of place on Zander’s arm. “It is better.”

  Zander winks at me as we walk up to the reservation area, his arm resting possessively on the curve above my ass. “Told you.” Seeing his playfulness eases my anxiety somewhat, though I clutch at him tightly to deal with my frazzled nerves.

  Not a minute passes before a waiter dressed in uniform walks up to us.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the waiter asks, his vest bunching slightly as he stands at the podium, flipping over a sheet of paper.

  “Payne,” Zander replies shortly although his voice doesn’t hold an edge.

  The waiter looks down at the booklet on the podium before nodding and motioning us out of the foyer. “Of course. Right this way, Mr. Payne.”

  As we follow the waiter and pass by rows of occupied tables, Zander tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, causing my skin to flush. It’s like he wants to show me off to the world and wants everyone to know we’re together. I even see a few women look our way, their eyes glued to Zander and traveling down his body, but then stopping at his hold on me.

  I try to act confident, but I can’t keep my eyes from nervously darting about. I feel like everyone knows I don’t belong here. That I’m a worthless fraud.

  “Remember to play your role,” Zander says under his breath. “Act like you know me and not like you’re a scared little doe lost in the woods.” He whispers the words, but there’s a playful smile still on his lips. His words have an immediate effect on me, and without even thinking, I gently place my hand on his stomach, feeling the hard ridges of his abs beneath his silk dress shirt.

  “That’s better,” he says quietly.

  I feel awkward as shit doing it, but I still like it.

  We’re led to a plush booth at the back of the restaurant. We pass what has to be a VIP section since the tables are more intimate, with lower lighting. I try not to look their way as Zander helps me into the booth before taking his seat.

  “What will you have to drink?” the waiter asks while dropping menus in front of us and finishing up what felt like a speech about the fish of the day and something else. I can’t concentrate on what he’s saying with how fast my heart is beating.

  “A white Zinfandel and I’ll have a whiskey sour,” Zander replies, not even bothering to ask me what I want.

  “Of course, Mr. Payne.” The waiter nods his head and walks off.

  When he’s gone, Zander focuses his eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze causing goosebumps to run down my arms. “You look beautiful.”

  My lips part with surprise as my cheeks flush. They’re simple words, but they mean so much when they sound genuine.

  “Thank you,” I say softly when I can finally manage, lowering my lashes.

  “You’re welcome,” Zander says, giving me that intense look that makes my skin prick.

  For a moment, I get lost in his piercing blue eyes, wanting - no, wishing - that this was something more than what it really is.

  “Why are we doing this again?” I blurt out suddenly. I bite my tongue after I say it. I wish I could take the words back, I only need to get the money and forget about all of this.

  Zander arches an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

  I gesture between us. “This... pretending...” I shift slightly in my seat, feeling so damn uncomfortable. “I just don’t understand.”

  For the first time this night, Zander frowns and it makes me regret my outburst. “I already told you why,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want a Slave. It doesn’t appeal to me.”

  And playing make-believe does? I want to ask. It’s hard to believe a man like Zander not having needs. Sexual needs that revolve around power and domination. The thought brings a heat to my core, and I have to sit back in my seat, grabbing the napkin and delicately placing it over my lap.

  “I’d rather get to know you first before having you crawl to me on your hands and knees,” Zander says quietly.

  His words have a clear effect on my body. I’d happily crawl to him. He must see the flicker of lust in my eyes, and the same is reflected in his. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Right then the waiter returns with our drinks, saving me from responding. He sets a sparkling wine glass down in front of me and a mixed drink down in front of Zander.

  “Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asks.

  Zander nods. “A medium rare steak with crab cakes for me, and the stuffed lobster for my sweetheart.
” He says it again. Sweetheart. And a blush grows on my cheeks, heating my face and making me fiddle with the napkin to soothe my nerves.

  “Wonderful selections, sir,” the waiter says as he scribbles down the order and leaves us.

  “What if I was allergic to seafood?” I have to inquire when he’s gone.

  Zander shakes his head. “I know you aren’t. I want to appear that I know exactly what you want, like I’ve known you for some time. Remember, we’re playing a role.” He grins. “Besides, I know you’ll love what I ordered for you. Promise.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I say softly, flashing a fake smile as I take in his admission that he knew I wasn’t allergic.

  “Smart girl.” Zander grins as if pleased by my behavior. He takes a sip of his drink, his penetrating eyes glued to my face. He keeps them on me, literally making me squirm in my seat before asking, “Tell me, what do you do in your free time?”

  I hesitate for a moment, glancing down into my glass, a slight flush coming to my cheeks. I wonder if he already knows.

  “You can tell me,” Zander says gently. “I don’t judge.” I look up at him, searching his eyes for the reason he’s asking me, but I come up emptyhanded.

  “I work at a soup kitchen, doing work for the homeless,” I tell him. “When I’m not working, I like to paint.”

  “And you were ashamed to tell me that?” Zander asks.

  I bite my lower lip. “It doesn’t pay well.” That’s an understatement.

  “But does it make you happy?”

  I nod. “In some ways. I like helping people. It makes me feel… complete.”

  Zander eyes twinkle as he gazes at me. “I respect that, I really do. And I’d argue, loving what you do is more important than what a job pays.”

  “Do you really think so? My bills don’t.” It’s a joke, but I sound absolutely serious.

  Zander chuckles. “Can’t say I can argue with that.” Zander arches a curious eyebrow. “And what about your painting?”