Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “And how am I doing?” he asks, giving me a squeeze.

  “Very well. You’re doing an excellent job, actually. So good in fact that you’ve earned bonus points and you should probably go home now.”

  “No way,” Aiden says definitively.

  In this moment, I know that I will never love anyone as much I love him.

  * * *

  The following morning, I wake up as sick as the previous one. I spend close to an hour draped over the toilet. I’m so ill in fact that Aiden actually decides to work from home. He brings me tea, crackers, and toast and refuses go in to work no matter how much I beg him to. In the afternoon, I feel good enough to actually come out to the living room and watch television there. Aiden talks on the phone and types furiously on his laptop until five o’clock when he turns everything off and joins me on the couch. Our takeout arrives fifteen minutes after. I wasn’t sure what to order so Aiden ordered a variety of different Vietnamese dishes and appetizers just in case some things didn’t sit well with me.

  “I have to tell you something,” Aiden says after I manage to eat one pot sticker. “This may not be the best time, but I just can’t wait any longer. I know that I should’ve told you this sooner.”

  “Okay,” I say. For a second, I think it might be something romantic, but by the look on his face, it’s probably something serious. Damn. I’m really not in the mood for anything like that.

  “I talked to the DA. From Maine? About Caroline’s case,” Aiden says as if I don’t know who he’s referring to.

  “About what?”

  “She was going to drop the case, Ellie. Without Caroline pressing charges and testifying, they were going to let Tom go.”

  “So, it’s over?” I feel like someone has just punched me in the throat.

  “Well, here’s the thing. The case that she had against him technically is over. But that’s not the only thing they have on him.”

  My head is starting to buzz and I start to feel sick again. I can’t really hear or process anything that he’s saying. Even though Aiden is sitting right next to me, it feels like we’re talking to each other from across a football field.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “I told her, Ellie. I told her that Caroline didn’t overdose by accident. I told her that she committed suicide. And that you have proof.”

  “You told her what??” I try to get up and my head starts to swim again. "I can’t believe you! You totally betrayed my trust.”

  “I’m sorry, Ellie, but she was going to let Tom go. He was going to get off. I just couldn’t let that happen.”

  I shake my head. “Who the hell do you think you are, Aiden? Caroline trusted me. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “But I’m not sure she knew that her suicide would mean that Tom would get off the hook. I don’t think she thought of all the consequences.”

  “And if she did?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought this was the right thing to do.”

  “Well, it wasn’t!” I yell. I’ve never really yelled at Aiden like this before. I’ve never really been this angry at him before.

  “Well, the DA thinks that she might have a case now. She wants to see the letter. She wants us both to testify at the trial. She’s going to build a case against Tom, saying that he caused her suicide.”

  “I don’t care, Aiden. That letter— she left that letter to me. I was supposed to protect her secret. She trusted me.”

  I’m just repeating myself over and over because it’s all I can do. A million thoughts run through my head and I can’t stop any of them. I can’t even slow them down.

  Aiden keeps trying to explain. He did this because he didn’t want me to be the one who broke my promise to Caroline. It’s not really breaking a promise if he did it. Caroline didn’t really understand what she was doing. But none of these arguments make any sense. Maybe I just don’t want them to. No, right now, I just want one thing.

  “I want you to leave,” I finally say.

  “What?”

  I repeat myself. He protests and says that I shouldn’t be alone when I’m feeling so badly, but I insist.

  “I need you to leave. Now,” I say as firmly as I can. I’m in no mood to talk anymore. I need time to think this over. Time away from him.

  My stomach starts to grumble again. I take one deep breath after another, hoping I can keep the nausea at bay until he leaves. A few minutes later, Aiden is finally gone.

  I get up and run to the bathroom.

  Epilogue - Ellie

  When I still don’t feel well…

  My anger with what Aiden did intensifies throughout the night. I’m angry at him for going behind my back. I’m angry at him for revealing Caroline’s secret. I’m angry that now her mother will likely find out the truth and that’s not what Caroline wanted. But I’m also angry at him because I know deep down that he might have done the right thing. A predator like Tom should not get away with what he did just because he did something so horrible that Caroline actually killed herself over it. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets because of a technicality. I saw him. He’s not one bit sorry or apologetic. And the DA dropping charges against him would just make him more cocky and righteous. No, Tom needs to pay for this. But it should’ve been my decision. I was the one who should’ve gone to her and told her about Caroline’s letter. But then again, if I had done that then I would’ve been the one breaking my promise to her.

  I can’t sleep. I get up and pace around the apartment. When I get a drink of water in the kitchen, my eyes meander over the calendar. What date is it? Hmm. That’s odd. Wait a second. When was the last time that I had my period? My heart skips a beat as I try to remember. Not last week or the previous week. But four weeks ago, yes. I did have my period then. Okay. That’s a relief.

  At least I’m not pregnant, I say to myself as I plop on the couch and flip on the television. I lie down and zone out for a while, watching late night re-runs of King of Queens. When I wake up an hour later, I again feel sick to my stomach. Perfect. I guess this is just a really bad case of the flu.

  I pull myself off the couch, about to head back to my bathroom. But the nausea feeling overwhelms me and I run into the bathroom in the hallway instead. This was technically Caroline’s bathroom, but it was also the one that guests used when they came over. As I throw up, it occurs to me that I haven’t been in here since Caroline died. This realization makes me even more sick to my stomach. Afterward, sitting on the closed toilet, I look under the sink. It’s filled with all the things that Caroline used that her mom didn’t take with her. Caroline’s hairdryer. Extra hand soap and shampoo and conditioner. Her scale. And there in the back is the unopened box with two pregnancy tests.

  I open the box and take one out. I don’t need to read the instructions. I’ve taken one before in college. It showed what my period confirmed later that day that I wasn’t pregnant.

  This is so stupid, I say to myself. There’s no way I’m pregnant. I just have some stupid stomach flu. People get them all the time.

  But why not take it anyway? They’re here. Available. If it’s not a big deal, then why not do it?

  I take a deep breath.

  “Okay, if you’re going to do it, do it now before you have to throw up again,” I say. I open the package and pull down my panties. After I pee on the stick, I turn back around and get sick again. It takes a few minutes for the test to show the results and I wait lying on my back on the cold tiles. Then I reach up for the test and look at the screen.

  “Pregnant.”

  * * *

  The End for Now

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  Indebted (Book 1)

  When 25 yr. old waitress, Brielle, receives a mysterious check for $250,000, she uses the money to pay for her mother's very expensive cancer treatment, saving her life.

  Two years later, she is called to pay back her debt. All she has to do is travel to an isolated mansion and work for one year as a personal assistant to an arrogant asshole whom she hates.

  Wyatt Wild is a gorgeous alpha billionaire playboy who is not used to girls saying no to him. He has bedded models, actresses and socialites and then a waitress from some crappy roadside cafe dares to reject him. Who does she think she is?

  Wyatt always gets what he wants and his desires focus on the innocent and stubborn Brielle. Neither give in easily and they quickly get locked in a game of seduction.

  * * *

  **WARNING: Steamy scenes, NO Cheating, HEA!

  Chapter 1 - Wyatt

  I wanted to fuck her the first time I saw her. She wasn’t my type. Not at all. A little plump with messy, brown hair and a sweaty forehead from taking too many orders and delivering food to strangers who left her fifty cent tips.

  She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and ratty jeans. The jeans dragged a bit on the floor and the holes were definitely not made by a manufacturer. No respectable girl I knew would ever wear something like that, and that made me want her even more.

  Her jeans were tight at the waist, and she adjusted them periodically. Pulling them up over her hips while pulling down her shirt. She was trying to hide her figure, as if she was embarrassed by her gorgeous thighs, hips, and breasts. Contemporary society is all fucked up. This girl’s –this woman’s body, was what every man wants. Every straight man of every race, ethnicity, and creed. A tiny waist, shapely hips and legs, and breasts big enough to grab on to. Despite that, all the women’s magazines try to do is to convince them that they’re too fat because they’re not shaped like 12-year-old boys!

  The name tag on her shirt said, ‘Brielle,’ which was a fancy French name to have for a girl who worked at a crappy roadside diner in the middle of the workday. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was her full-time job. I would be surprised if she worked here to get through school. There wasn’t a college for a hundred miles in any direction.

  No, this Brielle was all wrong for me, and the worst part was that she didn’t have any money!

  I don’t like girls without money. It’s not because I’m shallow. It’s because I’m practical. I don’t fuck girls without money, because it gets too complicated. It’s much more likely to make things more complicated. Girls without money feel taken advantage of. They want to see me more. They think that a one night stand is unreasonable, and if it goes past one or two nights then they want me to save them. Rescue them from their pathetic little lives. But I’m not a prince. I’m not a white knight either. I don’t have it in me, even though I do own a white horse that I love to ride.

  I don’t like to rescue girls. I don’t like needy girls. No, the girls I fuck have to have their own careers – a starring role in a TV show, a signed contract with a prominent modeling agency, or at the very least, a reasonably-sized trust fund with one or two million from mommy and daddy. Oh hell, who are we kidding? It’s always from daddy.

  I established these rules long ago, and I abide by them religiously. They are there to keep both of us safe. To make sure that we both have fun, but not too much. I don’t want the girls I fuck to have expectations about me. Expectations that I will never live up to.

  And now, walking into this café and seeing Brielle, I’m ready to toss them out of the window. I want her. I want to put my throbbing cock in her wet pussy and pull her hair until she moans.

  I get hard in anticipation as I watch her take an order from an old trucker at the next table.

  “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brielle says, pushing his hand away from her ass.

  I was too focused on her breasts that I hadn’t even noticed the trucker’s itchy hand reach out and grab her ass.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says sarcastically and laughs to his friend.

  “Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” she says, grabbing his uneaten plate of food.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t know where you think you are, but this isn’t that kind of establishment. You can’t just go around touching women inappropriately here. And you’d better get the hell out.”

  “But I didn’t finish eating,” the trucker stands up dumbfounded. He reaches out for his plate, but she moves it away from him.

  “You’re done,” she says with the kind of determination in her voice that makes me ever more hard. “Please leave,” Brielle says. “And don’t come back.”

  “I’d like to see your manager, you little cunt. You’re going to get fired.”

  “I’m the manager here. Now, get the fuck out!”

  I get out of the booth and stand next to her. I’m thankful for my loose fitting jeans.

  “You heard her, sir,” I say. “The lady would like you to leave. So please leave.”

  People at the next booths start to clap and cheer, and my friends join in. The trucker and his friend curse her out, but head towards the door.

  “You’re a real cunt. You know that? You’re going to be sorry for this!”

  I’m standing right next to her and, though, she’s trying to stay strong, I can see that she’s really shaken. Her chest is flushed, and the trucker’s plate is rattling slightly in her hand.

  “That was really impressive,” I say.

  She turns to me.

  “I’m probably going to get fired over it.”

  “I thought you were the manager?”

  “No,” she shakes her head and starts to gather the plates and cutlery from the trucker’s booth. “The manager’s coming in later tonight. I’m just the waitress.”

  “Well, I don’t see why you’d get fired. He had no right to grab your ass like that. He was a real asshole.”

  “Thanks,” she smiles. Her smile lights up the room. “Can I get that in writing from you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I startle her. Catch her off-guard, in a good way. I like that.

  “I’m just kidding,” she finally says. “Let me just get all this stuff to the kitchen, and I’ll come back and take your order.”

  When I return to the booth, the guys laugh and slap me on the shoulders. They know she’s not my type, they know that I’m breaking my rules.

  “I don’t know, Tyler. Looks like Wyatt’s in love,” Logan laughs.

  “With a waitress!” Tyler chimes in.

  “What happened to only dating girls with jobs or rich girls? Preferably both?” Ryan asks.

  “She’s got a job,” I say. “We’re at her job.”

  “Oh, please. A waitress? That’s not a real job. You’re breaking your rules, and you know it,” Logan jokes.

  It’s all in good fun, but right now I hate their teasing. They’re right of course, and still I want her.

  “Nothing’s happening. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as assertively as possible.

  “We see the way you’re looking at her,” Ryan says. “We’re not blind.”

  “I was just impressed with what she did. Brielle’s got spunk.”

  “Oh, Brielle, is it? You two are on a first name basis already?” Tyler chuckles. Dammi
t. I shouldn’t have let that slip.

  “It’s on her fuckin’ name tag, idiot,” I try to save myself. But they’re not buying it.

  Brielle comes back to our table to take our order. After writing down everyone else’s orders, she looks up at me from her notepad. My cock gets hard again, and I push it back down, under the table.

  “You know, you made quite an impression on our friend, Wyatt, here,” Logan suddenly says.

  “Is that so?”

  “I really liked how you handled that trucker,” I say. I feel like I’m on my back foot. I don’t like coming on to girls in this manner. I glare at Logan, but he doesn’t stop.

  “Wyatt was just telling us that you’re not at all like the girls we’re used to,” Logan continues.

  “Well, working for a living would do that to you,” she says with a smile. I hate how she mocks me for having money. I want her even more now. I want to push her down on the bed, and I want her to let me tie her hands to the bedpost. I want to tease her until she screams my name.

  “So what would you like? Wyatt, is it?” she turns to me.

  I had picked out something on the menu, but now I couldn’t remember what it was.

  “What would you recommend, Brielle?” I say reading her name tag. Her name is burned on my cock, but I can’t let her know that. Not yet.

  “Our spinach omelet with feta cheese is quite good.”

  “Okay, I’ll take that.”

  * * *

  The café clears out a bit. While my friends continue to pick at their food, I excuse myself and head towards the bathroom. Before I get there, I pop into the back and find Brielle sitting on a crate reading a book. She quickly puts it away, but not before I catch the title. Jane Eyre. My sister’s favorite.