One girl after the other paraded past the window, each one given just enough time until the bids ran out. Then the curtains dropped, the counter went off, and the highest bidder was discreetly escorted from the room. The process was flawless, a well-oiled machine running on horny men and desperate women.
“What if you want to bid on more than one?” I heard myself ask as a short, pudgy silhouette was guided out of the room and the lull between girls ticked away.
My neighbor chuckled. “The house usually frowns on double purchases. One per customer. That’s why they take the bidders from the room after.”
“Do they go home with the girls?”
“Oh no!” The wide-eyed look of outrage in his silvery eyes made me think I’d overstepped something sacred. “Absolutely not. House rules. You will be directed to one of the rooms here in the manor.”
The curtains began to pull back, the gears a musical note in the hush. My companion returned his attention forward. Like mine, his tablet sat untouched in his lap, pale hands crossed overtop. He hadn’t touched it once.
“Waiting for something specific?” I hedged.
In the semi darkness, I could have sworn he grinned.
“No, girls behind glass don’t interest me.” His head tilted to one side, shifting his gaze sideways to me. They glinted. “Besides, I have a lioness at home who would skin me alive. This is merely business.”
Any further communication was halted when the female voice rose once more over the speakers.
“Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for, our most anticipated piece for the evening.”
The excited buzz increased. Men fidgeted in their seats. Even my neighbor shifted forward a notch. I couldn’t imagine what made this girl any more important than the others; I hadn’t reached the end of the booklet, but I watched the curtains part, gliding up to reveal the bed, the white walls, the tiny creature perched on the edge.
She could have been anyone, any nameless, faceless girl I would forget by morning, but I knew her. I would have known her anywhere. I would have recognized those eyes if I were blind.
Gabby.
My Gabby sitting small and helpless on that fucking bed.
Her hair was lighter and her face made up with the deliberate strokes of innocence. Her usually long, concealing dresses were replaced by a tiny, satin slip nearly as translucent as the skin of an onion. It clung to her shape, to the full swells of her breasts and the curves of her hips. A thin thread of lace trimmed the bodice, emphasizing the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Another circled the hem, drawing the eye to the supple lines of her thighs.
I had never seen more than her hands and the column of her throat in all the years I’d known her. Her skin had always been a closely guarded garden, a secret, one only she ever had the key to. It had always drawn me, tempted me to see what lay beneath the fabrics, but it had also intrigued me, especially in an era when clothes on women seemed less and less.
But there she sat, a beauty with skin so pale, so flawless, she could have been created of pure milk and lips the delicate pink of a blush. It was enough to make a man want to know of the other colors left to be revealed.
None of those things were important to me, not in that moment when I catapulted to my feet. It was a rash and reckless plunge into action, every fiber of my soul prepared to shatter the glass and snatch her away from the wolves. The violent jolt sent the tablet clattering off my lap. It hit the top of my feet and lay forgotten on the ground as I grabbed the headrest of the chair in front of me.
“Are you all right?”
The question echoed through my mind and was swallowed by the cyclone of heat devouring my sanity.
The auction began.
The timer above the window blinked her worth, six fucking digits, barely enough to make up a phone number, even while it was higher than all the others before her.
Five hundred thousand.
Disgusting. Appalling. How dare they? There weren’t enough figures in the world to sum the total of what she was worth, but to insult her with something as cheap as a measly five hundred thousand made my blood boil. Even as the bids poured in, sending the numbers on the screen spinning, it wasn’t enough. Yet, that wasn’t the real problem. The frenzy was on. Those remaining had specifically stayed for her, had saved their money for her. They were throwing their amounts in by the thousands. One of them would win her.
I did the only thing I knew how, I grabbed the tablet off the ground and I bid. I bid high. High enough that I knew no one in their right mind would top.
“Jesus!” Someone whistled. “Who in their right mind would pay one million for a girl? Virgin or not.”
While the others peered at each other, I watched the screen, waiting for it to move, waiting to raise my price at a second’s notice. The other men seemed to be debating amongst themselves to see who was willing to beat me, but the numbers remained the same as the counter came on. It rolled down from five and flipped at a slow pace to one. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until the counter shut off. The screens went dark. The murmurs rose. But my only focus was Gabby, my terrified Gabby staring imploringly at the glass, at the monsters she couldn’t see. It broke my heart. It infuriated me.
What the fuck are you doing here? I wanted to snap at her, right after I’d pulled her into my arms.
“That’s all for tonight,” said the female voice over the speakers. “We hope to see you again next week for a new selection. Please proceed to the lounge for refreshments before your journey.”
The men all rose. I remained behind while the others ambled from the theater, waiting for someone to tell me where the fuck Gabby was. Everyone else had been retrieved immediately after the biddings had closed, but no one had come to get me.
“Well, that was certainly a surprise,” my neighbor mused, rising with the slow grace of a man with all the time in the world. “Probably the shortest bid closing in history. I take it you know her?”
I ignored the question.
“Where is—?”
My question was halted when the boy from before returned. He inclined his head to my companion then faced me.
“Begging your forgiveness, sir. But the director wishes to speak with you.”
My companion chuckled. “Sent to the principal’s office on your first day.” He patted my shoulder in passing. “Good luck.”
I waited until the last person had left the viewing room before I turned to the kid. “Where’s the girl?”
“The director will discuss that with you. This way, sir.”
I followed him to another part of the house and into an office where a small, smartly dressed man rose to meet me.
“Mr. Kincaid.”
I took the hand he offered across the over organized desk. His shake was firm and abrupt, formal. All business.
“I’m Eugene Murray. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Please.” He motioned me to one of the leather chairs. “Can I get you anything?”
“Where’s the girl?”
Eugene started just enough to make me think he wasn’t accustomed to getting right to the point.
“The girl,” he mimicked, glancing at his computer screen. “The Virgin. Yes. You have exceptional taste.”
I waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be waiting for me. When I didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and kept talking.
“Mr. Kincaid, we here at the Black Lotus pride ourselves on providing a safe and clean auction house. We have a rigorous background check for our girls, and our clients. We don’t normally allow outsiders in without a starling recommendation. So, of course, when your name was brought to our attention, along with your interest in visiting, we were thrilled. Are thrilled.” He smiled at me. “Your father was a big part in us being here all these years. He was an avid auctioneer, and a generous donor.”
“I am well aware of my father’s involvement with your organization, Mr. Murray. That wasn’t my question.”
“No, of course not. But you must understand that with any transaction as large as yours—”
“The payment will clear,” I muttered, feeling my annoyance grow.
“Without question, sir,” Eugene agreed with genuine honesty. “It’s just, sometimes, a client may get caught up in the moment, in the excitement and accidentally enter an amount they may not have meant to.”
“I meant to.”
Eugene nodded slowly. “Very well, sir.” He folded his hands on his desk and peered at me thoughtfully, a kindly uncle indulging a favorite nephew. “Everything has been arranged. Your purchase has been placed in her quarters. Your payment has bought you an hour of her time. Anything after that is an added charge that will be billed to your account. What you both do in that time is at your discretion, but we ask that, as you would, show patience and respect.”
“Gabby,” I cut in, no longer able to contain my tongue. “My purchase has a name.”
Eugene blinked once, all the outward reaction that I’d surprised him. “I wasn’t aware you knew the ... Gabby.”
I didn’t bother gracing his non-question with an answer. It was none of his fucking business who Gabby was to me.
“I want to see her.”
“Of course.” He rose, hands daftly fastening the button on his blazer. “I will have Samuel take you up.”
Samuel was waiting outside the door when Eugene walked me out. He straightened immediately and took a step back.
“What would have happened if I had made a mistake?” I asked the man behind me. “Would she go back into auction?”
Eugene nodded. “We would try again next week.”
Over my dead body, I thought. Gabby wasn’t setting foot in that fucking place again.
Thanking the man for his time, I followed my guide through the maze of corridors. We took the stairs to the second floor and turned the first corner.
Like any Victorian manor, the estate was a catacomb of rooms shielded by heavy doors and silence. Despite the purpose of the establishment, we came across no one else. The hallways remained vacant. Part of me couldn’t help wondering how often my father traveled those halls, how often his travels ended at one of those doors with a terrified girl waiting for him on the other side.
My father and I never saw eye to eye.
Not in business.
Not in the path of my choosing.
Not in women.
He had a very clear image of what he wanted of me from the day of my birth. But I never fit his mold. I never properly conformed.
It infuriated him. Right up to the day he died.
Now, he was ruining my life from beyond the grave.
He was toying with me.
He was seeking his revenge the only way he could — by shackling me with his perverse amusements, his twisted pleasures. Perhaps he hoped, that by saddling me with his precious secrets, we would find something in common.
Unfortunately for him, the only thing we continued to share was our name.
But those were things to dwell on at a later time. What I needed now was to find Gabby. I needed to get her out, needed to get her as far away from that place as possible. I couldn’t fathom what she was even doing there. What she could have been thinking selling herself to men like my father.
Seducing the daughter of his dearest friend would have meant nothing to Walter Kincaid. He would have bought her, done horrible, unspeakable things to her and never thought twice about it.
But I couldn’t hurt Gabby.
Never Gabby.
Samuel arrived at a door much like all the others, but this one held a small, oval plaque stamped into the white surface. The low lights traced the VIP embossed into the gold.
He dug into the inside pocket of his blazer and removed a silver key. It was pressed into my palm.
“Enjoy your stay, sir.”
I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t be staying, but I wasn’t about to start explaining myself to anyone.
I waited until he’d rounded a corner and had disappeared from sight before slipping the key into the lock. It gave a distinct click before it swept inward without a sound.
I sucked in a breath, an involuntary moment of weakness I seldom liked to show anyone, and stepped over the threshold.
The room could have been anyone’s sleeping quarters, a simple, but elegant design inspired to install comfort and the feeling of home. Not my home, but definitely feminine with a subtle touch of seductive allure. The theme seemed to be gold. It trimmed everything, including the furniture and it was woven into the duvet. There were even speckles of it embedded into the plush carpet beneath my feet.
It was a fair size room, much larger in comparison to most with enough room for a spacious, king sized bed, a full set sitting area surrounding a fireplace, a vanity, armoire, end tables, and a round, velvet bench in the middle of the room.
The only thing missing was Gabby.
I closed the door quietly behind me and took another step deeper in, hoping I might have accidentally missed her. But the room itself seemed to be void of another life.
A door opened on the other side of the room, a hidden compartment woven seamlessly into the wall. A tall, unnaturally thin woman with a mane of platinum waves sashayed in on red pumps, a tiny, blindfolded Gabby clutched between her long, slender hands. The fingers were curled around the smaller woman’s bare shoulders, guiding her in.
My heart jerked in my chest at the sight of her. She seemed so small, so fragile and frightened.
The woman said nothing as she positioned Gabby in front of me. She never even glanced up. Her fingers unfurled, then she was gone, leaving as quietly as she’d come back through the hidden panel.
It closed behind her.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
I wasn’t even sure I was breathing properly.
Everything I’d ever known how to do naturally my entire life had abandoned me, including common sense. In its place, I was left harboring a gut full of desire and a prickling to do something I hadn’t been allowed to for years, like touch her. I knew she wouldn’t allow it otherwise. If she knew who I was, who the person who bought her was, she’d be horrified. She’d be so embarrassed. But above all that, she would never talk to me again.
Not that she did anyway. Not really. I couldn’t recall a single moment of conversation between us in all the years I’d known her. Other than the casual greetings over Sunday meals, a brief murmur of something insignificant at the occasional party, I could never get her to stay, to look at me. She always seemed to have one foot ready to bolt.
This, this moment while she stood before me, not seeing me, not knowing who I was, it was the longest I had ever been in her presence.
I was paralyzed.
I was so enraptured by the thing I’d wanted so badly for so damn long.
She made a sound, a shaky inhale that made me aware of the bigger picture, the one that wasn’t fixed solely on the fact that it was her, my Gabby.
She was trembling violently. There were ripples running through her hair from the force of it. Her jaw was clenched, the muscles along the slender lines bunched tight. Beneath the lacy cups of her sheer slip, her breasts rose and fell in sharp, shallow pants. I could almost see her heart beating wildly beneath the flawless skin.
Christ, I wanted to take her into my arms. I wanted to pull her in close and tell her it was all right. That I would never let anything hurt her, but I knew it wouldn’t happen that way. I knew the moment I said anything, she’d know and she would run.
I couldn’t stand it if she did.
But I had to do something. I couldn’t keep standing there while she drowned in her fears wondering what I was doing.
“Hello?” Her voice, a soft, hesitant whisper came out tattered.
That was the moment I knew there was no turning back. I knew that if I didn’t take that blindfold off, if I didn’t tell her who I was, if I said nothing, I never would.
It was all or nothing.
/> I touched her
I skimmed one knuckle against her cheek, a tender reassurance that she wasn’t alone and not to be afraid.
Gabby shuddered, a startled jerk that expelled the air she’d been holding in a strangled rush. Her fingers bunched at her sides before she released them quickly.
“I’m sorry.”
I silenced her with the same finger slipping beneath her chin. I lifted her face. I traced the perfect lines up close like I’d been craving to for three fucking years.
God, I wanted to devour her. I wanted to jerk her into my arms and steal every second of that hour I had with her. I wanted to pilfer them into my pocket, hide them in the dark recesses of my soul where all my guilt and shame lay contained.
She would be one more.
I kissed her.
I didn’t let myself dwell, terrified I’d manage to talk myself out of it, because part of me knew, I could have walked out.
I could have just left.
She would get her money.
The auction house would get theirs.
She would leave with her dignity and body in one piece.
I didn’t have to touch her.
I didn’t have to take her kisses.
I didn’t have to do the things I wanted.
But I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t want to stop.
Her lips opened beneath mine, a willing acceptance to the tongue I nudged against the seam. She tasted like toothpaste and chocolates with just a hint of caramel. I wondered if they made all their girls eat chocolate before being sent in.
I didn’t care.
My hands found homes on her shoulders where the thin straps of her slip began. They journeyed downwards along the lengths of her arms, the skin as soft as satin, and settled in a light, breakable bracelet around her slender wrists.
But it was enough.
I needed to stop.
I knew if I didn’t, I never would.
I’d gotten what I wanted. I had already taken too much. Anymore and she would never forgive me.
I would never forgive me.
I reached for the blindfold. My thumbs tucked into the silk sash at her temples.
Gabby caught my hands, her grip surprisingly firm, if not a bit clammy and cold.
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