Page 9

Jeff

I didn’t come here to spend money.

I came for the scotch and a place to unwind after three nights doing my ER rotation.

The vendue nights—just fucking call it an auction, already—were always entertaining, half soft-core fantasy, half financial dick-measuring contest. Most of the time, I just observed.

I didn’t need to shell out money to get laid.

Tonight should’ve been no different.

I slid into a seat in one of the private booths angled toward the stage near the center, and nodded when the girl in the tight blouse with the top three buttons undone asked, “Macallan, sir?”

The man beside me nodded. “Jeff, good to see you again.”

“Bradford,” I replied. “I didn’t know you came to these things.”

He chuckled. “Normally I don’t. But my wife’s in Europe for another few weeks, so I thought maybe I’d see if the tight piece of ass I hooked up with at the masquerade ball was up for sale.”

“But how will you know if it’s her? Wasn’t she wearing a mask? And every chick onstage is a hot piece of ass.”

He smiled knowingly. “I’ll know. She had a tattoo on her wrist.”

I was careful to school my expression and took a sip of my single malt scotch before I responded.

“Oh yeah? Don’t tell me, a Bible verse? Chinese symbol?”

“No… well, maybe? Is a phoenix considered a Chinese symbol?”

Fuck. Me.

Phoenix hooked up with Bradford ? Like he’d been a better alternative than me ?

I drawled in response, “I think it’s from the Greek.”

He went on, chuckling to himself. “She hopped on my cock and rode me like a cowgirl. Her cunt was nice and tight, and so was her ass.”

My eyebrows went up. “You fucked her ass?”

“No, just squeezed it when I blasted my load in her.” He adjusted in his seat. “Damn, I’m getting a chub just thinking about it.”

My smile was purposefully condescending. “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky, and she’ll be here tonight, and you can continue where you left off.”

For her sake, she better not be. Because Bradford sure as hell wouldn’t have the winning bid, and I’d make damn certain she regretted ever putting herself up for sale.

Macy’s voice rang out.

“And now, number three on tonight’s vendue list—Vivian.”

I noticed the red dress first. Then the hair. Then the eyes.

My glass hit the table harder than I meant it to.

So, Phoenix’s real name was Vivian.

I said it to myself a few times to see how it felt.

Yeah, it suited her.

Bradford leaned forward with interest. “Oh, hell yes! That’s her.” He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Looks like I’m going to be having some fun for a few weeks.”

Yeah, sorry, buddy. Not with her, you’re not.

She strutted across the stage like she owned the club, but she had a few tells that let me know she wasn’t as confident as she pretended to be. The tightness in her shoulders, the way her eyes darted around the room. Underneath her painted-on confidence, there was a vulnerability.

One that I was going to exploit until she broke.

She’d turned me down. Then fucked Bradford . Had she fucked that frat douche, too?

And now she was selling herself? To anyone?

Grayson made the initial bid, quickly followed by Bradford’s counter bid.

Bid all you want assholes, it ain’t happenin’.

I sat up straighter, my jaw locked and heart pounding harder than I’d like to admit.

Let’s play, sweetheart.

Let’s see what you’re worth.

~~~~

After Grayson made the first move, Bradford jumped in like a dog chasing a bone. Then some other guy threw in a bid to show he could. And just like that, a dick-measuring contest began.

Macy clearly loved it; her voice oozed satisfaction as she paced the stage.

“Gentlemen, let me remind you what’s being offered.

This package includes four weekends—Friday through Sunday—of her time .

Hard limits have been submitted and must be honored: no pain, no waterplay, full respect for the safe word. ”

She gave the crowd a sly smile. “And this is her first appearance on our stage. A virgin, if you will. Completely untouched by any previous arrangement.”

Bradford snorted. “Well, not completely untouched.”

I’d never wanted to throat-punch someone more.

But Macy’s words worked. The men perked up and bids rose fast.

Forty thousand. Forty-five. Fifty.

Bradford shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I couldn’t help but smirk thinking that we were getting into the range where he might have a hard time explaining to his wife where that money went.

Fifty-five. Fifty-seven. Sixty.

I didn’t even realize I was standing until I was already on my feet and declared, “One hundred thousand.”

The room snapped silent.

Macy’s brows lifted, but she recovered quickly. “We have a new high bid of one hundred thousand. Do I hear one hundred and five?”

I looked around the room, silently daring anyone to go higher.

Not because I wanted her. Not because she was special.

Because she’d turned me down and given herself to someone else.

And now, she was mine to punish for doing just that.

No one moved.

I didn’t sit. I didn’t blink. I locked eyes with Vivian.

She froze and her eyes went wide for a breath, then her chin tipped up defiantly, like I’d seen before.

Bradford leaned toward me and muttered under his breath, “Fucking asshole.”

I didn’t respond; didn’t even look at him. Let the fucker seethe. He wasn’t worth a reply.

The adrenaline had drowned out everything but her.

The dress. The eyes. That look she gave me like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or fight.

Oh, choose fight, baby girl. Please. That will be fun.

She had no business putting herself up for sale to the highest bidder after giving Bradford what should’ve been mine. And now I got to erase him from her—one brutal, filthy inch at a time.

Time to pay the piper, sweetheart.

You get to serve the man you thought wasn’t good enough to fuck for free.

I own you now—your body, your obedience, your tears, your shame. I’m going to make you crawl for every goddamn cent like the good little whore you chose to be.

And when it’s over, you’ll beg me to take more. And hate yourself for doing it.

****

Vivian

I was pleasantly surprised when I heard the bids climbing. I’d had myself half-convinced before I went onstage that I’d be lucky if my “package” sold for a thousand dollars. Then a deep voice offered one hundred thousand.

After the club took their forty percent, that would leave me with sixty.

Sixty thousand dollars. That was enough to put a real dent in Daddy Dearest’s debt. Maybe enough that we could actually pay it off before the interest ate up any progress we made.

My mom, sister, and Roscoe would be safe.

It was way more than I’d been expecting. More than I thought I’d ever be worth.

But it came with a price and the reality of what that price was sat like a pit in my stomach.

I’d just sold myself.

Four weekends of sex. Whatever was in the fine print that didn’t count as physical pain. Whatever the buyer wanted, as long as it wasn’t against the rules.

But there was no going back now. That was too much money to walk away from. Not when my family needed it.

I held my head high and kept my face still.

I could survive this. I could survive anything; I even had the tattoo on my wrist to remind me of that.

Macy’s voice echoed from the stage speakers. “Sold for one hundred thousand dollars to Dr. Jeff Connolly.”

My heart lodged in my throat.

Dr. Connolly.

I blinked. It couldn’t be him. It had to be someone else. Someone with the same name.

But then I saw him, standing next to the center booth near the stage, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

He’d been wearing a mask at the ball, but there was no mistaking those blue eyes belonged to the man I’d turned down that evening.

The blue eyes that had locked on mine. Blue orbs that were now staring right through me like he owned me.

Which, technically, he did. For the next four weekends anyway.

I forced myself to take a deep breath as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

He hadn’t chosen me before. He’d walked away like I wasn’t worth the trouble.

And now he’d paid one hundred grand to own me for a month.

Why now?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was personal.

What I didn’t know was why.