Highest Bidder Collection

by Lauren Landish

  But what attracts me most to her is the way she looks at Zander. It's the way all mothers look at their children. A heavy feeling settles on my chest as I stare at his mother's face.

  It takes me a moment to realize that I’ve met Zander’s father, but not his mother. I find it odd that he’s never mentioned her before at all. The idea hits me that I should Google Zander’s family. I bet there’s at least some dirt on his father… maybe some on Zander, too.

  I’m so dumb. I should’ve done this the moment I found out about Zander.

  I'm quick to go back to the bedroom and take out my cell. I bring up the web browser, tapping in Zander Payne. The first few results yield nothing. I go several pages without seeing anything actually related to Zander or his family. It's all business news. I let out a sigh of relief when I don’t really find anything. At least Zander doesn’t have a sinister past.

  I’m about to search for something more specific when one headline grabs my attention

  Rich Socialite takes her own life after husband’s affair.

  Marie Payne, forty-eight-year-old wife of wealthy hedge fund investor Thomas Payne jumped to her death after learning of her husband’s years-long affair with his mistress. Sources say in the week leading up to her death, Marie was so distraught she locked herself away in her room for days at a time, refusing to come out for food or drink.

  Marie leaves behind a young son, Zander Payne…

  “Oh,” I breathe, tearing my eyes away from the article, tears filling my eyes. My body seems to go cold all at once, the large bed feeling like an abyss as I bring the comforter up and around me. I check the date on the article and think back to how old Zander was.

  He was just a boy. I wipe under my eyes as the sting of the tears hits me out of nowhere.

  No wonder why he keeps secrets, I say to myself, shaking my head and holding my tears at bay. No wonder why Zander doesn’t trust people.

  I thought I had a painful life, but at least I’m still alive. A lot of my issues, I caused myself. Being a problem child, being wild and partying. But his mother’s death? Zander had no control over that. No control over the betrayal that led to such an earth-shattering loss.

  Letting out a deep, trembling sigh, I turn my phone off and settle into the comforter, imagining how hard that had to be on him. I’m no longer in the mood to go snooping around. After finding that out, a part of me is content in letting Zander keep whatever secrets he has close to his chest. It probably gives him comfort, more control over his life. And who am I to say that he owes me complete access?

  I look toward the door to his bedroom, feeling a swell of emotion. I need a release. I need to do something that’ll make me feel better.

  There’s only one thing that I know will do that.

  I throw the covers off of me and go back through his house looking for his office. After finding pen and paper, I make my way to the piano room, sprawling out on the floor.

  And I begin to draw.

  Chapter 23

  Zander

  My hand tightens on the leather shifter as I park my Mercedes in the garage. I lean back in my seat after turning the keys and pulling them out. My forehead is pinched as I stare at the garage door to my home.

  She’s still inside.

  I didn’t expect it. There are monitors and cameras set up throughout my home. I’d be a fucking idiot not to have them with the sheer number of people who come in and out. From the housekeeping service, to caterers and business associates.

  I wasn’t surprised when she started looking through my things. I rest my head back against the leather, staring at the door and remembering how I watched her on the computer screen rather than actually working today. I’d already decided phone conferences would have to substitute for my normal meetings, considering the faint darkness under my left eye. I canceled three of them though so I could focus on watching her. During the fourth and fifth she stayed on my screen, lying on the floor, sprawled out and tempting me to come back to her. To pull her tempting body into mine, but also to see her drawing.

  My sweetheart is a beautiful distraction.

  And she’s still here.

  Or at least she was when I left the office nearly fifteen minutes ago. The realization that she could be done with her art makes me exit the car in haste. Shoving the keys into my pocket, I open the door and kick it shut behind me. The garage is at the side of the house, and I’m well aware that my pace is much faster than it usually is. I’m curious to see if she’s still sprawled there on the floor of the piano room, waiting for me.

  My dick hardens in my pants as the mental images of me lying on the ground next to her and slowly teasing her shoulder with my fingertips until she shivers plays in my mind. But when I get to the foyer and see her spot empty, my steps slow and my heart pauses in my chest. She’s been here for hours. Taunting me to come home.

  I stare at the gleaming hardwood floor. How the fuck have I missed her? How cruel would it be for her to leave just as I’ve come home when I’ve been wanting her all day? The seconds split and time moves slower as anger seeps in. She’s mine. She should be here. Waiting for me.

  I know it’s unreasonable. Even as my jaw clenches, I know I shouldn’t think that way. This is pretend. It’s fake and merely a result of my poor judgment, but nonetheless, I want her. And she was fucking here all this time.

  “Oh!” the small sound of her gasp from behind me grips my attention. I school my expression, turning slowly to see her standing in the kitchen. I haven’t missed her. The adrenaline stops pumping in my blood. My heartbeat settles, and my body instantly relaxes at the sight of her in the middle of the kitchen. My sweetheart didn’t slip through my fingers. She’s right where she belongs.

  Her dark green eyes are wide and she shuffles her feet as she stares back at me. She pulls her hair around her shoulder, her fingers nervously twirling the ends. “I wasn’t sure-” she starts to say something, but stops as I walk toward her in the open kitchen, my strides slow and deliberate.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here,” I say and the lie comes out with an unnatural tone in my voice that I don’t recognize.

  Arianna doesn’t notice as she clasps her hands and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have work today, and I got caught up.” Her hands fly outward as she blurts out an excuse, and the paper she’s been working on waves in the air as she moves her hands.

  “What’s that?” I ask her, nodding to the sketch. I resist the urge to take the few remaining steps forward and snatch it from her. I want her to want to show me.

  “Oh,” she says and looks at the paper as if it’s the first time she’s seen it. As if it didn’t encompass the last few hours of her time.

  “May I see?” I ask, but the words come out as a hard command instead of a question and I wish I could stop them. I wish I could soften for her. But that’s not who I am. “Please,” I add and clear my throat.

  She doesn’t react to the harsh tone, instead she obediently hands me the paper and the thrill of her listening to me makes my blood heat with desire. Such a small thing. So insignificant really. But she makes me feel powerful in a way I haven’t felt before. She makes me want to command her; it’s a dangerous thing for her to play with me like this. To tempt me, but she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.

  She bites down on her bottom lip as I take the paper from her. I’m gentle with the edges, and I make sure not to touch any of the marks. Her eyes watch where I touch the paper, and her fingertips are covered in ink of some sort. I shake the paper slightly, finally getting to see what she’s been working on all this time.

  And it’s beautiful. I knew she wouldn’t disappoint me.

  It’s just a sketch of the room. Of the piano, really. But the way it’s done romanticizes the barren room. Something about the subtlety of the lines, the delicate details and shading. There’s a softness to it that I’ve never felt in that room myself. But it’s what she sees. What she feels being there. It makes me see it in a diff
erent light.

  “You have such talent, sweetheart.” I lift my eyes from the sketch to her eyes and love how much light shines back at me.

  “Thank you,” she says in a whisper, a blush coloring her chest and moving up to her cheeks.

  “You should do this… for a living.” Her long lashes whip up as she stares back at me. “It’s a crime that you do anything other than this.”

  I expect a smile in return, but instead she answers kindly, but firmly, “I can’t. I have work, and… I just can’t.”

  “I’ll get you a studio tomorrow,” I say out loud without thinking. It was a fleeting thought in my office, but hearing her now, I know I need to get her one.

  “A studio?” she asks me with disbelief.

  I nod my head, my brow furrowing as I second-guess what it’s called. “For your art,” I state and gesture to the paper in her hand.

  There’s still a look of confusion on her face. Her soft lips part, but no words come out. She clears her throat, looking away from me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her, taking another step closer but standing an arm’s length away. The warmth from this morning is gone. The girl I held in my arms last night isn’t the same one standing in front of me.

  “It just seems… a bit much?” she responds after a moment.

  I can tell she’s trying to distance herself. She’s already waiting for this contract to be over maybe, so she can stop playing the part. So she can just go back to being herself. To being Brooks’ possession to barter off when he sees fit. The second the thought comes to my mind; jealousy ravages my thoughts.

  And for the first time in years, I show it, my expression, my stance, everything shows what I’m feeling and thinking. I can’t stop it. Arianna takes a small step back, fear clearly evident as she reacts to my anger.

  I shake my head slightly, letting out a heavy exhale and pinch the bridge of my nose, hating that I’ve scared her. I don’t want to hide anymore, but my anger isn’t for her. None of it. But this is why I hide it.

  “You’re playing the part of my girlfriend.” I start speaking without thinking. Convincing both of us that a studio is necessary for this… game. “They’ll expect me to pamper you,” I finally open my eyes and chance a look at her. “I would do anything for someone I want to impress.” For you, that dark voice in my head whispers. For someone I want to love me.

  I ignore the thought, a chill traveling down my spine as Arianna slowly nods her head. She visibly swallows, still a bit unsure of herself.

  But she answers with the words I want to hear. “Okay,” she says and her voice is soft, meant to appease me. “Thank you.”

  My eyes search hers, but she isn’t looking at me. I chance a step toward her and cup her jaw like I did this morning. Her posture softens and she pushes her cheek against my palm, her small hand cupping the back of mine and her eyes shining back at me with vulnerability. “Let me spoil you, sweetheart,” I speak slowly. “Just for the rest of the contract.”

  I’ve told many lies in my life. So many deceitful things have left my lips. And I know full well the words that just slipped past my lips are nothing but a deception.

  I said them only to get her to cave to me. I want her to submit to me. I can feel that darkness in me rising. A possessive side is controlling me. And I don’t stop it. I don’t even want to suppress it.

  She’s making me weak. And for the first time in my life, I don’t give a fuck.

  Chapter 24

  Arianna

  Let me spoil you, sweetheart.

  Zander’s words run through my mind, causing warmth to flow through my chest. I told him yes, only for the contract. But that was a lie. I want to get lost in his world and become his plaything. I want to fulfill his every desire; all while being spoiled by him. It’s a fantasy and it’s dangerous to get lost in it, but I am. I’m becoming consumed with the thought of being his and losing sight on what the reality of this situation is.

  Each day that passes I feel more at ease, wanting more and more of what he has to offer.

  I suck in a deep breath as I gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, remembering the way he looked at me the other day. There was something in his eyes. Something that told me what we have feels real. I want to believe it. But it’s too good to be true. And like most things that are too good to be true, it’s easy to be fooled. I don’t want to be that girl, hoping and wishing for something that can never be, all while ignoring the truth. Everyone knows that in real life there are no Prince Charmings and no knights in shining armor. Still, I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

  “There you are,” says Zander’s deep voice behind me.

  I turn around with my eyes closed, wanting to believe in the fantasy. And when I open them, I’m lost in the world I want. In the make-believe. He’s leaning against the doorjamb in the doorway, wearing dress pants and a matching dress shirt, looking classically handsome and sexy as fuck. My breath halts in my lungs, refusing to leave the moment. This is real. If only I could hold onto it.

  “Here I am,” I say, flashing a light smile, ignoring my racing heart, the fear and every other thing that’s going to rip us apart and leave me shredded into nothingness. I can pretend. For him.

  Zander grins at me, walking over to deliver a warm kiss on my lips. I like this smile. There’s something different about it than the way he smiles at everyone else. This one is just for me. I think it's the way his eyes brighten and the skin around them wrinkles. I nearly melt into his hard body, my knees going weak from that look.

  When he pulls away, I’m breathless and feeling drunk on lust. If he wanted to take me right here, right now, I wouldn’t dare object.

  “Are you ready to go see the studio?” he asks me, gently rubbing my arm and causing sparks to flow through my body.

  I gaze up into his eyes, seeing the caring warmth reflected there.

  All the questions are right there, on the tip of my tongue. Is he going to keep me afterward? Does this feel the same to him? I’m falling into a dark abyss and I’m terrified; I just want to know that he’ll catch me. But closing my eyes and imagining he will makes the fall that much easier, that much more enjoyable. Even if there’s nothing but the hard, cold unforgiving ground there to meet me when this is all over.

  His eyes stare back at me as the questions makes my stomach flutter, but my lips stay closed tight. My heart is clenching in agony because I already know the answers, I already know the truth.

  And I refuse to appear ungrateful. He’s gone through the trouble to rent a studio for me. I won’t ruin the moment.

  Besides, I want to live in the fantasy.

  Before I can reply, my cell goes off in my pocket.

  “Sorry,” I tell Zander, fishing it out, my fingers fumbling with the tight jeans.

  Zander’s low, rough chuckle makes my cheeks heat. How does he do this to me? All that warmth leaves me in a sharp wave as I check the screen, my blood running cold.

  Seeing the look on my face, Zander asks, “Who is it?” I hear his words, but I don’t want to answer. He moves closer to me, invading my space. I feel caught between the two of them. Caught between my past and what could be. It’s falling away from me, slipping past my fingertips as the phone rings again in my hand and Zander leans forward.

  “Danny,” I whisper even though me responding at this point isn’t necessary, Zander can see for himself.

  “Answer it,” Zander says firmly.

  “But-” I protest, not wanting this to happen. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.

  “Answer it.” His words are like stone, hardened by his resolve.

  Dread pressing down on my chest, I tap the answer button and put it on speaker.

  “Hello?” I ask weakly, although I’m staring at Zander. His eyes aren’t on me; his focus is on Danny. I’m lost in the battle between the two of them, back to being nothing but a pawn.

  “Where are you?” Danny asks coldly.

  I swallow back a nervous lump
in my throat. “I’m at home,” I answer without thinking, my voice devoid of life.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  I clear my throat and straighten my back. I can’t hide from him, or my past. “I’m out.” He doesn’t own me. He’s not my Master. No one is.

  “You’re with him,” Danny says matter-of-factly. “And you must really think I’m a fucking idiot if you think I think otherwise.”

  I don’t bother arguing.

  “I need you to leave him now,” Danny tells me firmly, in a voice I recognize all too well. One that makes me want to obey. A voice that made me obey once upon a time. “Right now. You’re no longer his property.”

  My mouth is dry as I reply, “Danny, I-” Deep down inside of me, I feel the need to tell him no, but as the word climbs up my throat, it’s as if I’m being strangled. The word refuses to leave my lips, to be heard by the man who saved me, by the man who beat me. I’m at war with myself and stuck in the middle of a battle between two men.

  “I said leave!” Danny screams on the other end of the line, the dark side of him he showed me in the alley coming to the surface. “Or you’re as good as fucking dead!”

  His jaw clenched tightly, Zander snatches the phone out of my hand, leaving my body trembling on its own.

  “Brooks,” Zander growls, his voice dropping so low that my skin pricks with more fear than I thought possible at the sound. “You ever threaten Arianna again; it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do. She’s not going anywhere. She’s mine. And you’re going to pay me the money you owe me. Every. Fucking. Penny. Or you’re going to wish I would’ve killed you back at your office.”

  Zander hangs up the phone, his eyes blazing with murderous rage. “You’ll never speak to him again. He isn’t going to touch you.”