There’s not one person in this venue who would have a death wish that barbaric.
My gaze tracks right to the signature. It’s definitely hers. It’s the same as the one she used to write on her schoolbooks. Perhaps a little more refined now, but she writes the P and F the same way, wrapped together, and the A in McAllister with a long, curly flick.
My chest separates like someone drove a knife into it.
Na ah.
Absolutely fucking not.
I read it again, just to check if I’m hallucinating.Negative.
My fists curl. She thinks this is going to get her out of this little arrangement. She’s hoping some generous guy with a fat wallet is going to bid high, give her a shit ton of money and allow her to pay off that motherfucker’s debt.
I laugh out loud. It’s not a bad plan, really. Or it wouldn’t be if she knew who she was dealing with.
But she really doesn’t know who I am, does she? Maybe I should tell her. Watch that sweet little smile drip off her face like tomato sauce. Then again, what fun would that be?
I haven’t had my fill of her misery yet.
I haven’t evenstarted.
My fingertips tap over the screen and in a millisecond, her name is gone.
I don’t go back out front right away. Instead, I make my way past the meeting rooms and into the control room where we keep all the monitors.
Another operator sits up sharp when I enter. If I looked more closely, I’d probably see his fly undone, porn playing out on the phone in his hand. Not watching the monitors like I pay him to. If I wasn’t single-mindedly preoccupied with my little captive, I would quite possibly kill him for it, but I am, so he’s safe. For now.
I lean against the desk scanning all the screens until I find her.
There she is.
Gliding across the lounge floor with a tray in hand.
I shouldn’t be watching her move through the tables, carefully and gracefully, like she belongs here. I already spent three nights in here getting my fill. But my gaze tracks her without any effort, noting the line of her neck, the curve of her jaw.
Leaning closer, I see the twitch of a smile. It’s small and polite, hitting a nerve deep in my chest. It dimples her cheeks, the way her smiles always did. I’ve never forgotten those sweet indentations and the way they warmed my whole body.
For a second, she looks exactly like that young innocent girl I was mad about, before?—
My teeth grind, a memory infusing my muscles with acid.
She’s still smiling when a male guest taps her arm lightly as she sets down a drink. It’s a nothing move, totally harmless, but she flinches like she just got electrocuted.
He doesn’t notice her rapid retreat and the dip of her brow, her lips moving in a hurried gesture, but I do.
The more I look, the more I see. Her demeanor is pleasant and guests seem to warm to her everywhere she turns. It doesn’t irritate me to high heaven like usual though, because I’ve spotted something they’re too blinded by her beauty to notice.
She never lets them get too close, angling her body away when she lowers the drinks, not stepping into anyone’s space, flicking her gaze periodically to the exits and the alarm buttons discreetly positioned around the room.
She seems to be shit scared of this place and everyone in it, so why is she putting herself up for auction?
Surely if she can’t bear to have anyone near her, she certainly wouldn’t want to give herself intimately to just one man—or woman. She’s desperate and doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for. And that’s dangerous.
That’s the justification I make to myself as I stalk back to the office, pull up the list and re-add her name.
And it’s the same justification I apply when I add my own to the column beside it.
Pfeiffer McAllister has a winning bidder, and she’s going to be mine.