Carly pushed the hair from her face and tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillows, dizziness assailing her. She shuddered, the nightmare still clinging to her like a spider’s sticky web. “It felt so real. I was in a box—”
“Shh, don’t relive it. Let it go.” Adam stroked the hair from her face. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Carly. I didn’t know.”
Adam’s words burned away the clammy fear left by the nightmare, his touch as warm as the sun. Carly smiled. “It’s okay,” she whispered, putting her hand over his. If the terrifying moments spent in the cock box had broken through whatever roadblocks had been erected between them by the nature of their strange relationship, then they had been worth it.
“It wasn’t in the hard limits section of the contract,” Adam added, pulling his hand away, his words hitting her like a slap in the face.
“The contract,” Carly repeated stupidly. No. No, no, no. She wanted to scream, to grab him by the shirt and make him understand. Make him care. Instead she lay there, passive and tongue-tied.
Oblivious to the pain his words had caused her, Adam continued, “I’ve been up all night thinking about it, Carly. We can’t keep doing this. It’s not working out.”
“I’m sorry, Sir?” Carly forced herself to sit up, pushing through the thick ooze of molasses that seemed to be surrounding her brain from the sedative Amy had given her the night before. What was he saying? What wasn’t working out? Whatever it was, she would fix it. She had to fix it. Pushing down the tendrils of panic creeping along her innards, she said breathlessly, “I can do better, I promise—“
Adam reached for her hand. “No, no—it isn’t you, Carly. It’s the situation itself. It’s artificial—it’s a game. I thought it was what I wanted, but I realize now, what I was doing is wrong. I don’t think either of us had a real understanding of what we were getting into with the terms of the contract we’d negotiated. I just used you, like a toy, like an object. I didn’t think about the trust that’s necessary in this kind of a situation, or the potential danger. It has to end.”
I used you—like a toy, like an object.
Adam was sending her away. She was nothing more than a toy. A toy he was tired of playing with. She meant nothing to him. She never had.
Carly tried to harness the righteous indignation rising inside her, but it didn’t work. She felt as if she’d been sucker punched, all the air smacked from her lungs. Was that really all that mattered to Adam? The terms of some stupid contract? Had Carly been totally fooling herself that something more had been developing between them?
She pressed her lips together, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep back the tears that threatened to spill. What the hell did she expect? He’d purchased her at a slave auction, for god’s sake. What kind of a man did that, anyway? The kind who couldn’t or wouldn’t make an emotional connection. The kind she would be smart to steer well clear of.
But there was more at stake here. She’d bet everything she had on this gig—the money she stood to earn would help her get back on her feet. Everything she owned was crammed into her crappy old car, parked and waiting in the lot behind the auction house. Now this rat bastard was going to ruin it, just like that.
Carly tried to focus on the terms of the stupid contract—to speak a language Adam could understand. “You can’t send me away. Not before the contract ends. The money—”
“Don’t worry about the money,” Adam interrupted. “You’ll get everything due you, I promise. If necessary, I’ll put in the call myself.”
She tried again. “If you report dissatisfaction, the contract will be void. I won’t get a dime.”
Adam shrugged. “I won’t report a thing. I told you—you aren’t the problem. It’s me. I just—I can’t do this. You don’t have to finish the month. As soon as the sun’s up, I’ll have Jordan, my driver, take you wherever you want to go.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ve made my decision.”
Desperate, she wouldn’t give up, despite her rising humiliation at having to beg. “Please, it hasn’t even been a week. I can—”
Adam put two fingers against her lips, silencing her. “Not bad money for less than a week’s work, huh?”
Closing her eyes, Carly turned her head away.
~*~
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, where can I take you, ma’am? I need an address.”
They were sitting in the circular driveway of the old brownstone, the engine idling, Carly in the backseat, Jordan waiting patiently for her reply. It was barely seven in the morning, but Carly hadn’t wanted to linger a second longer than she had to in Adam’s house. His words still burned inside her.
Not bad money for less than a week’s work.
If she’d had any lingering doubt of Adam’s real feelings, he’d made them crystal clear with that snide, heartless remark. What a fool she had been to think there had been something happening between them. What a clueless, naive fool. The innocent, sweet man gazing with such open love at his bride in the photo she had found had no doubt died a long time ago, leaving the cold, emotionally unavailable man that Adam Wise was today.
Carly hadn’t seen Adam’s driver since that first night when he’d driven them from the city. Jordan had been a witness to her orgasm in the back seat, though from his polite, blank expression, you’d think he’d never seen her before in his life. No doubt she was just the latest in a string of expendable girl toys Adam Wise had purchased for his amusement.
Where the hell did she tell him to go? If Donna were in town, she’d tell the driver to go there, but Donna was in New Zealand as a visiting professor at the University of Auckland. She couldn’t very well tell Jordan to drive her to Miami, where her mother now resided with her third husband, a man who had made it very clear Carly wasn’t welcome, unless she was willing to put herself up in a hotel. She couldn’t go back to the girls she’d roomed with in Brooklyn, nor did she want to.
“Back to the auction house, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The sedan purred down the driveway. Carly resisted the urge to turn back to see if Adam was watching. Fuck Adam Wise and the horse he rode in on. If he didn’t want her around, she damn well didn’t want to be there.
What would they think at the auction house when she showed up more than three weeks early? Adam had said she would be paid, but what if there was some fine print in the contract that left her shit out of luck? Just because they kept his payment, that didn’t mean she would necessarily get her share.
Carly stared out the window feeling numb as they drove along the highway, her limbs heavy, her mind a jumble of confused thoughts that refused to come into any kind of cohesive focus. Hot tears were creating a pressure behind her eyes, but she refused to give them permission to fall.
Carly sat up straighter, pressing her lips together, willing herself to be strong. No matter what happened, she’d pull herself up by her bootstraps and start over. She would leave New York—there was nothing keeping her there anyway. Whether or not she got the payout from the auction house she’d hit the road and never look back. There had to be jobs somewhere in the country—maybe down south or out west. If her old junk heap of a car could make it that far, she’d just start driving and not stop until she got there—wherever there happened to be.
Footloose and fancy free. That was the new Carly Abrams. No ties, no strings, no one to miss her when she’d gone.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Looking up, Carly saw Jordan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m fine,” she replied automatically. She touched her cheek, startled to realize it was streaked with tears.
~*~
Adam felt like he was made of stone. He stared out the window, seeing nothing, his mind’s eye focused solely on the image of Carly standing in the front hall early that morning dressed in a white blouse and blue jeans, her suitcase beside her, her big blue eyes filled with tears. Had he made a mistake in sending her away so precipitous
ly? Should he have tried to make it work?
He thought back to their conversation, which had been running in a loop in the back of his head since Jordan had driven her away. Carly’s focus had been on the money. She hadn’t said a word about anything else, her only concern apparently whether or not she would get paid if the contract was terminated before the month was out.
Yes, he told himself for the hundredth time. He’d done the right thing, made the right decision. He’d learned a lesson—now he would move on.
But was he being honest? Had he even given her a chance to speak? Was he so intent on his own agenda, his own issues, that he had shut her down before giving her a chance?
But she’s gone now, he reminded himself. It’s for the best. It’s for the best. It’s for the best. Maybe if he said it enough, it would actually be true.
The doorbell rang. Reflexively Adam looked at his watch. It was only eight o’clock. The cleaning crew wasn’t due for several hours and Jordan wouldn’t ring the bell—he had a key to the back door if he needed anything.
Pushing himself upright, Adam left his study and headed toward the front door. Peering through the peephole, he saw James and Amy standing on the stoop, Amy’s black medical bag in her hand.
It wasn’t like them to just show up, not that he minded. He pulled open the door. “Hey there. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s great.” James replied with a smile. “I called first, but it went to voicemail. I hope we aren’t disturbing you and Carly, but Amy was worried when you didn’t call back. We just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Oh, sorry. I guess I left the phone up in the bedroom. I didn’t realize you’d called.”
“How’s Carly?” Amy said, as Adam stepped back to let them in. “Can I see her?”
“She’s not here.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Amy, who had already been heading toward the stairs, stopped and turned to face Adam.
“She left.”
“She left?” James echoed.
“Yeah. I had Jordan take her wherever she wanted to go.”
“She wanted to leave?” James said.
“I didn’t ask her. You saw what happened last night. I did what I had to do.”
“You didn’t ask her?” Amy dropped the medical bag and put her hands on her hips.
Adam found himself resenting Amy’s critical tone. “Damn it, no! It wasn’t something up for debate.” He turned to James, not wanting to meet Amy’s gaze. “You were right from the beginning, James. I got in way over my head with this. It was best to cut my losses and move on.”
“Your losses!” Amy replied, as if he’d been addressing her. “Let me get this straight. Less than twelve hours ago this woman suffered a panic attack that required sedation. Clearly being put in that box was a trigger for her, and one she was probably aware of.”
“Listen to me,” Adam began but Amy cut him off.
“No, you listen to me, Adam Wise. James and I were talking about it, and Carly definitely hesitated when you suggested the cock box. At the time we just thought she was shy about the idea of servicing two men, but looking back, it was clear she was afraid. Yet she pushed past that fear because she wanted to please you. She wanted to obey you, Adam. She put her own issues aside in an effort to do that—”
“She was being paid good money to do that—” Adam interrupted, stung at Amy’s criticism, which hurt all the more because he knew it was true.
“Forget the money for once,” Amy shot back.
“I think you’re forgetting how this deal was set up,” Adam retorted. “This wasn’t a romance. She was providing submission and sex for cash. As long as she gets her money, she’s happy.”
“Is that really what you think, Adam? Did you see nothing else when she looked at you? Are you really that clueless?”
James put his hand on Amy’s arm. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re out of line.”
“I’m sorry if I am, but you know I’m right. If nothing else, Carly shouldn’t have been sent away before I had a chance to examine her. She suffered a significant trauma and was sedated. Adam got her up and out before she could possibly have had a chance to process what she’d been through or figure out what she wanted or needed.”
Amy turned again to Adam, her eyes like daggers. “Where did she go, Adam? Where did you send her?”
Adam shrugged, feeling miserable. “I don’t know. Jordan’s not back yet. I told him to take her wherever she wanted to go.”
“Let’s all sit down and have some coffee,” James suggested. “We’ll talk this through.”
Adam, glad for something to do, led them back to the kitchen and busied himself making a fresh pot of coffee. While Amy got the cream and sugar, James set the pastries out on the table. When they were all seated in front of their coffee mugs, James turned to Adam. “So what happens now?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said, feeling as if someone had put lead weights on his chest. “Carly gets her money, I move on. End of story.”
Amy frowned, reaching for her cup. Adam tried to ignore her silent reproach.
“What are the terms of the contract?” James, ever the attorney, asked. “Does Carly still get paid if it’s terminated early?”
“I think so.” Adam shrugged, frowning. “I’ll make sure she does.”
“May I see the contract?” James asked.
“Sure. Let me get it.” Adam went to the study and retrieved the contract, handing it to James.
He sat again and Amy put her hand on his arm, her touch gentle. “I’m sorry, Adam. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just, I saw something between the two of you last night, something that is rare, something that should be nurtured, not nipped in the bud before it has a chance to flower.”
“You’re romanticizing it, Amy,” Adam said sadly. “Carly was a pro, in it for the money. What we had was a business transaction, one that wasn’t working out. It’s that simple. I learned a long time ago in business when to cut my losses. That’s all I was doing.”
“Liar,” Amy said.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We’ve known you for over ten years, Adam. We’ve watched you bring a series of lovely young women home, and time after time, you always find a reason to end it before it gets started. You’re so focused on your assumptions that they only want you for your money that you never even give them a chance. James and I never said anything, but this time it’s different. Carly was different from those girls and you know it.”
Adam started to protest, but Amy cut him off. “Yes, I agree this arrangement was less than satisfactory in terms of romantic potential, but there was something there, Adam Wise, and don’t you try to deny it or to hide behind claims of some kind of business transaction. So she got into the arrangement for the money, so what? It’s time to peel away the scar tissue that covers your heart. Carly meant more to you than just a hired piece of ass. Look me in the eye and tell me different.”
Amy’s words were like arrows pricking Adam’s defenses. He felt a lump rising in his throat and realized with embarrassed horror that he was about to cry.
“I shouldn’t have sent her away,” Adam said in a hoarse voice, surprised how relieved he was to admit this. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
James put the contract on the table. “You know,” he said gently, “sometimes people fuck up, Adam. Lord knows, Amy and I have had our share of issues over the years. You’ve often said you admire how strong our relationship is. It’s because we don’t give up. Love isn’t a business transaction. It’s not something you just walk away from, cutting your losses, as you call it, and moving on. Not when there’s something there worth saving. Both Amy and I saw the way you and Carly were looking at each other last night, before things got out of hand. Whatever was going on between the two of you, money was the least of it.”
He picked up the contract again, scanning it. “That said, according to this cont
ract, the slave will be paid upon satisfactory completion of the term. I interpret that to mean Carly won’t get her money from the auction house until the end of the month. What happens over the next three weeks? She’d expected to spend that time with you. Does she have other arrangements now that you’ve sent her away?”
“I honestly have no idea. I didn’t think about that. Surely she has somewhere to go.” But did she? A fragment of an earlier conversation returned to him. Don’t send me back. Please. I have nowhere to go. He’d assumed at the time she was being overly dramatic, but what if it was true?
“So what do I do now? Now that it’s too late?” Adam asked miserably.
“It’s never too late, Adam,” Amy said. “Not when love is at stake.”
Chapter 13
Twenty-two dollars and fourteen cents. Carly felt in the bottom of her purse for any loose change and added another quarter and a nickel to the count.
Oh wait, there was the money she kept hidden away for emergencies. Carly opened the glove compartment and rooted beneath the maps and the car owner’s manual for her stash. Shit, was that all there was? Seven dollars in single bills and quarters. How could she possibly survive on twenty-nine dollars and change for the next three weeks?
She glanced at the car clock—not quite eight o’clock. The front offices wouldn’t open until nine. Did she dare let them know she’d been terminated? Adam had assured her he would make sure she got paid, but did he really have any control over that?
She’d been so muddled and shocked after his pronouncement that he wanted her gone that she hadn’t had the presence of mind to demand that he accompany her to the auction house to make sure she got her money, or at the very least have him place a phone call to someone in authority. She’d thought of it only as Jordan was driving away in the sleek, black sedan after having deposited her beside the 1983 junk heap that held all her worldly possessions.
The Auction Page 13