“I’ll take maybe.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. Why did a part of her insist he didn’t talk about anal sex? “Tell me about your parents,” she said, sobering up, desperate to cling to reality like a sinking person to life vests.
He shot her a mocking glance, almost as if her random question didn’t fool him for one second. This would go a lot smoother if he weren’t so smart and perceptive. If he didn’t read her so well.
“Mom’s good. She hasn’t been healthy. Her caretaker always keeps me posted. I haven’t talked to my father in a long time.”
“Why not?”
“Because when we grew up, I didn’t know I had a half sister, or about the self-absorbed creep he was. When I found out, he showed me his true colors.”
“Was he a good dad until then?”
“Nah. I didn’t know any better, though.”
“Does that experience make you feel wary of having kids of your own?”
“No, because I know what not to do.”
“You’re brave. Going into the unknown to rewrite history and make things different.”
“What’s the other option, if not moving forward?”
“Moving forward can mean many things.” In her case, it meant moving from place to place and changing her zip code and name to become a new person. Bile rose up her throat. New person, old problems. Would she find everything she wanted by retiring from the auctions and moving to Spain? Helping women who had been battered by men would give her a purpose in life. What if I need more?
Chapter Seven
“Well, that was a good celebration.” Brooks pulled up his jeans. Hell, ever since the previous day at the barn, they’d been celebrating. Earlier this morning, Scott had signed the contract they gave him, which now made the male virgin auction official. He grabbed his belt off his chair and buckled it one notch tighter than usual. Was having Scott in the auction a bad idea?
Scott knew what the auction entailed, and he’d make enough money to change his life forever. Then why did a nagging doubt throb in Brooks’s temples? Because you can no longer criticize Alexa. You’re doing the same thing as her, whether you have a different motivation or not.
He wrestled with the idea. He’d only do it once, and for a strong reason. Didn’t that count as a gray area?
“Yeah.” She sat up on his bed, covering her body with a sheet. “I sent some pictures to Jackie and asked her to start the promotional material. You have the contacts, right?”
He swallowed. Yes, he knew far too many rich women who would be perfect for this venture. He hadn’t expected to use them, or shit, he’d hoped to be further along by now. To have a good lead about what had happened to his sister. He’d even searched Alexa’s room earlier that day, to grab her USB and make a copy of it. His shoulders tightened, a knot forming in his back. Shit. Why did it feel so wrong? His goal hadn’t changed. “Yes. I can contact them.”
“I want the list as well. I need to know who you’re inviting for the auction and be on top of things.”
“Of course.”
His father would have a heart attack when he found out his son was promoting a virgin auction. Who cared? His father had been a bad example of parenting, choosing to get rid of a problem instead of owning up to it. Maybe if he had been more present, Pamela would have had a better life, with more support, and would still be alive today.
She slid out of bed, completely naked, heading over to him. “Can I borrow a shirt?”
“No,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
She chuckled, withdrawing from his hold and splaying her fingers on his bare chest, pushing him away. “Now that we’ve found an auctionee, that’s when the real work begins. I’m leaving today, remember? Gotta get ready.”
Of course he remembered… She’d been at his ranch for three nights, and somehow it seemed longer. “Right ahead,” he said, gesturing to his walk-in closet and watching her ass sway as she sauntered.
His internal temperature rose and he inhaled, tapping his fingers on the waistline of his jeans. He’d sent her real name to a private detective, to find out if there was more about her that could be a link to Pamela’s disappearance. Had she worked as a madam before at a different location? Had any of her clients or other auctionees ever disappeared?
Pacing his room, he jammed his hands into his pockets. With her leaving Texas, he had time to study whatever information his investigator gave him. Then, he’d head to Vegas, to continue a much closer investigation of Alexa. Only when all his resources were tapped out would he tell her about his intentions—also only when he had a good strategy to make her talk. He couldn’t blackmail her on the fact she fled her home state because of an abusive relative. But there had to be a slip—
“Why are you with one of my former auctionees?” Alexa’s voice yanked him from his thoughts. A pang of impatience laced her tone, and he turned to face her. Wearing one of his blue long-sleeved shirts, she lifted a framed picture of him and Pamela.
His blood chilled in his veins, and every part of him went rigid and lifeless for a moment. Then, a heat of shame, of guilt, of regret melted the chill and caused an uncomfortable stir in his body. Holy fuck. He’d asked Gina to put any pictures of him and Pamela away, and she’d told him she placed them in his closet. He’d never asked exactly where. Hadn’t seemed important…until now. “Alexa.”
She squared her shoulders, her glacial gaze making him wish he wore a shirt. Or better yet, a winter coat to shield him from the cold oozing from her. “How do you know her?”
His gut clenched as if she’d sucker punched him, but he managed to stay upright, his spine locked into place. He weighed his options, ideas running through his brain. He could tell her she’d been an old girlfriend, a former flame whose picture he’d kept for the sake of memories. But Alexa was way too smart to fall for that kind of bullshit. “My sister,” he said, his voice clear and unapologetic.
“Your sister,” she repeated, “wanted to be auctioned? Why?” She furrowed her brows and glided her fingers down the glass of the frame.
He ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling loudly. The same question he’d been asking himself all along. “My father treated her like shit. She was the housekeeper’s daughter. I didn’t find out she was my half sister until I was away in college.”
“What did you do for her?”
“I paid for her college, and I set her up in an apartment,” he said, remembering how his father had given Pamela’s mother a good amount of money to keep the story under wraps, but she’d invested in a home and hadn’t spared a cent for her daughter. Pamela, too proud, had never wanted to take her biological father to court and demand to be included in his will, or even get some compensation for all the years he hadn’t provided for her.
“So altruistic,” she said sarcastically. She put the frame on the nightstand, without taking her eyes off his as if she pointed a gun at his chest and could shoot at any moment.
A nagging sensation clogged his throat, and he touched his neck, confused and pissed off. “I loved her,” he finally said, the words almost as sad as his emotions.
“What happened?”
He grabbed a shirt from the chair and slipped it on. “After I left for college, things changed. I was busy for a while, and that’s when she found out and she never forgave me for not being there for her.” He’d been too worried about making his own money, about diving head-first into the entrepreneurial side of agriculture, to call her back as often as he should have. No wonder she resented him for having a privileged life for so long—even after she’d discovered she was entitled to the same lifestyle as he, she’d never had it.
“But you said—”
He swallowed the lump of frustration constricting his throat. “I paid for her college, but she never finished. She had…anxiety and her own set of problems.”
“She resente
d you for being the official heir, while she never had a father.” Alexa shortened the distance between them, her delicate features set into a hard line. The main vein on her neck jumped. “What happened to her?”
He stretched to his full height. “I was hoping you’d help me figure that out. She was found dead in a car accident, not long after she entered your place of business.”
“What?” She drew back, folding her arms. A glimmer of disbelief hit her eyes. “She was chosen for the auction, yes, but Pamela never made it. We had to call someone else in to replace her at the last minute.”
“Impossible. I saw pictures of her entering the building on auction night. She was never seen afterward,” he said, remembering he’d bribed the janitor from the storage unit across the street to get screenshots of the surveillance camera footage.
“Maybe she had a change of heart and left.”
He shook his head. Why would she go to the auction location just to give up? Didn’t make any sense. If she wanted to give up, she could simply not go or call Alexa. Going there in person would only make things awkward for everyone. “Did you try to contact her?”
“Yes. I called, texted, but if they’re not in the building within a certain time before the auction, we have policies in place to make sure—”
Anger skated through him, sizzling his insides. Did she expect him to believe she knew nothing about his sister’s disappearance? Surely, even with a different woman ready to go, Pamela’s alleged flakiness must have caused some inconvenience. “To make sure the hungry rich men have a virgin to fuck.”
She erased the remaining distance between them, swiftly lifted her hand, and slapped his face. “Bastard,” she cussed at him, and her cheeks flushed. “You used me. You betrayed me. What was your plan? To destroy me and my business because of what you think I did to Pamela?”
He touched his cheek, the flesh warm and tingly from her smack. “I need to find out. I know that accident didn’t just happen. They said she was tired and got distracted, but she was a great driver.” Images of her riding next to him, while he learned to get his driver’s permit, popped in his mind. Pamela’s infectious giggle rang in his ears, cementing his resolve.
“If she was killed, wouldn’t she have some marks on her body or some type of poison in her system that would debunk the car crash?”
“She supposedly drove into a gas tank on a country road. It exploded. They couldn’t salvage enough of her for an autopsy,” he said, his voice thickening with sadness. Worse, his father hadn’t even attended the mass her mother had planned in her memory. He’d acted like she’d never existed, which hadn’t been much different than what he’d done when she’d been alive.
Craig Taylor was a pig.
Alexa’s arms dropped to her sides, a flicker of compassion in her eyes. “I’m sorry about your loss. But I don’t have anything to do with it.”
“Then prove it. Let me talk to people who worked for you back then. Let me check your files or interviews with my sister. Maybe she got involved with someone from your staff, and that person didn’t want her to go to the auction. Maybe she had a change of heart like you said, and a faithful employee of yours got mad at her, and things got out of hand.”
She lifted her chin. “My people would never kill anyone. I’m not the mafia, no matter how little you obviously think of my business.”
“That’s beside the point. I need to have access to information. I need to find out the truth, if that’s the last thing I do for her.”
She lifted her hand in denial. “Don’t drag me into whatever mistakes you made in the past. Truth is, you seduced me and created this bullshit idea of a male virgin auction to get close to me. You lied to me. I bet that guy we signed a contract with today is a paid actor.”
He paced the room, agitated. Calm down, man. The initial suspicion he’d had about her and her business warred against the woman he’d come to know in the past few days. A woman who had been hurt and had overcome a terrible past. She hadn’t, at any point, forced Scott into joining the auction. His blood pressure spiked. “He is not. I promise you that.”
“Too bad, because that deal is off. I’m leaving for Vegas and hope to never hear from you again.” She moved to walk past him, but he outsmarted her and blocked her way out of his room, standing in front of the door.
“Nope. I’m going with you,” he said.
“No way.”
Say it, a voice inside him shouted. Or he’d lose his chance to learn the truth about Pamela’s death. “Yes way. Otherwise, I’ll go to the police, and will have to tell them everything—including my ludicrous attempt to get information from you,” he said, his gut contracting. The fear in her eyes almost made him change his mind. “How long do you think it’ll take them to dig up your real identity? Allison?” He only hoped in doing right by his sister, he didn’t ruin Alexa’s life.
…
Alexa grabbed a small decorative vase, the sweat in her palm slicking the smooth surface. She lifted it, every fiber of her demanding she throw it at Brooks Taylor. The man who could bring to light who she’d once been—who she’d spent her entire life trying to forget. The tabloids would love to expose her story, and she’d never be able to reinvent herself. Not even in another country.
She bit her inner cheeks, angry and betrayed. He’d used her—how come I didn’t see this coming? Her chest tightened so hard, she let the vase escape her hold and fall on the carpet.
Hands at her waist, gathering her wits, she was unwilling to give him the upper hand. “Fine, I’ll help you,” she said through her clenched teeth. “But I’m going ahead with the male virgin auction. You’re not taking that away from me.” Why should she give up on that excellent idea to make money? She needed financial security now more than ever. “And after you get whatever you need from me, you disappear from my life. Are we clear?”
“Clear.”
“Good. Well, since there’s nothing else to do here—”
“I’ll call the pilot and have him start the inspection.”
“I know you said you wanted to come, but there’s no need. I can get back to Nevada, take a look at whatever information I have, then send it to you or call you and have you come, if that’s the case,” she said, slipping on her work mask and managing to sound level headed.
A chill rolled down her spine and into her stomach. Spending time with him would remind her of how stupid she’d been to trust a man again. What an idiot she’d been. She’d trusted her hormones and not common sense. She’d told him about her life, details she had never shared with another soul. Why? For him to use it for his own gain. Sorrow filled her heart, squeezing it again. All those years she’d avoided relationships, thinking she didn’t have anything to add to them. But now, the truth made her head dizzy—relationships could also take away everything she’d built.
He texted someone, quickly, then raised his eyes to hers. “No. I’m coming. Let’s get our things together, and we should be good to leave in an hour.”
She nodded.
He took one step in her direction, an emotion she couldn’t detect flashing in his eyes. “Listen, I know how this all seems. Sleeping with you wasn’t my goal. I’m not going to deny I took advantage of our crazy chemistry to get close to you, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every minute of it.”
“So you enjoy betrayal and lies.”
“I enjoy being with you,” he drawled. “I’m apologetic about the circumstances.”
Words. She swallowed the knot in her throat. Her stepfather had always apologized after abusing her, saying he couldn’t possibly resist her. Sorrow welled up inside, pressuring behind her eyelids, and she felt hot tears coming. Tears she didn’t want him to see. She walked toward the door, blood thickening in her veins. “Let me know when it’s time to leave.”
He outmaneuvered her and blocked her way. “Alexa, don’t do this—”
“Out of my way,” she shouted, searching for the vase to throw at him. Maybe then he’d understand.
He lifted his hands in surrender, and with a sigh, moved aside. “All right. As you wish.”
This is not over, said a voice inside her. She slammed the door behind her and entered her room, where she’d hole up until it was time to go. Brooks had betrayed her trust, and in such a short amount of time, it already cut too deep. It has to be over.
Chapter Eight
Alexa opened the door of her building, and Brooks followed her inside. Evening fell behind them. She’d kept to herself during the flight, choosing to read a business magazine, then pretending to watch a thriller movie to avoid talking to him. But now, she could smell his manly scent, the seductive notes of his cologne, and wished for a moment she didn’t have that capability.
The woodsy traces in his aroma reminded her of a large, sexy man from the country. A man who, despite his wealth and privilege, had chosen to build his own cattle empire and thrive. Her shoulders sagged. A man who didn’t exist.
She flicked on the lights. As they walked through the empty stage where auctions took place, an eeriness stalked her. All the chairs had been folded and put away for cleaning. Only on auction nights, on Saturdays, did the room reach its full potential.
“Quiet here,” Brooks said, walking alongside her.
“My assistant Jackie has probably left for the day. I beef up security on auction nights and when we’re interviewing, but besides that, there’s no need for it.”
“Have you ever received death threats?”
“Weekly,” she said, remembering the emails she’d gotten from religious groups or scorned ex-wives. Jackie did the weeding out for her, so she no longer read them. She sighed. People with too much time on their hands, but no real action plan—thankfully. “I don’t do what I do to piss off anyone. So I try not to worry about it.”
“Where’s your security from?”
The Billionaire's Betrayal (Highest Bidder Book 3) Page 7