Sold to the Hottest Bidder

by Layla Valentine

  “Ella!” she screeched, rising to her feet and seeming to sober up, all at once.

  “You’ve treated me like a child for too long. Not even a child—you’ve treated me like a slave. You’ve always cared more about this damn company than your daughter,” I all but screamed, stepping towards her.

  She refused to step back, holding my gaze with her angry one.

  “I’ve worked so hard for this company so that someday it may be yours, but you’re pushing my limits to the point that I’m beginning to reconsider,” she hissed.

  I tried to control myself, but nothing could stop the peal of laughter that spilled past my lips at her threat. I clutched my stomach, feeling amused and nauseous like I’d just come off of some carnival ride.

  “What on earth is so funny? You're an entitled brat, you know; do you not realize how quickly I could take everything away from you?”

  I giggled for a moment longer, leaning in until our faces were almost uncomfortably close. I could smell the booze on her breath, mingling with the fetid aroma of cigarettes.

  “You want to know what’s funny? Do you want to know what I find hilarious? The fact that you think I would care if you took away my rights to EBgen. Because guess what, Mom? I don’t want to run your stupid company! I want my life. I want to travel the world, see amazing things, and sleep with exotic men,” I shouted.

  I didn’t entirely intend for that last bit to slip out, but at this rate, it was too late to take anything back.

  My mother looked stunned, taking a step back and considering me with concerned eyes. I could feel myself breathing heavily, and all eyes were upon us as I waited for my mother’s reply.

  “Ella,” she began, reaching out to touch my cheek. I flinched, expecting her to slap me. “Honey, is that what all this is about?”

  Well, no shit. Why else would I be screaming at her on the upper deck of a cruise ship, in front of all of her employees? I could make a fool of myself on my own time; I wasn’t doing it in front of everyone for my health. I swallowed those responses, however, managing to nod my head silently.

  “Oh, baby girl. You think I wouldn’t allow you to have your dreams? What kind of mother do you think I am?”

  I felt my heart skip a beat. There was no way she was going to be that agreeable. There was no way she would set me free so quickly. But it seemed that, perhaps, my mother did care. Maybe she did care about me more than she cared about her company. Maybe she did care about my dreams. Maybe…

  “It’s all well and good to dream. I have my share of dreams as well. The important thing is to stay rooted in reality. Dreams are meant to be just that. Dreams. Now, will you fetch me a towel? You’ve made both of us look silly in front of all these people,” she murmured, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

  I felt tears well up in my eyes, unbidden. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, she would never care about what I wanted. The company was her baby, not me. It even bore my initials, and while it was an irrational thought, I couldn’t help wondering if she was indeed trying to fill a void with her job.

  Was I not enough? Had I never been sufficient?

  “The towel, Ella?” she repeated sourly. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and she looked at me as if I’d grown another head.

  “Take one and shove it up your ass,” I snapped, turning my back on her and rushing away from the scene.

  I heard a collective gasp, as well as a fair share of murmurs among the employees. I couldn’t find it within me to care, however. I needed to escape. I just didn’t know how.

  Chapter Four

  Ella

  As I stormed off, I mused that a sane person might have been embarrassed. I wasn’t awfully surprised by the colossal shit-show that had gone down, though—it seemed I was doomed to disappoint everyone around me.

  Okay, maybe that’s a touch melodramatic, but to tell the truth, I couldn’t care less what the employees of EBgen thought of me. They could think I was a spoiled bitch if they felt inclined. I wasn’t going to be the one they worked for in the long term, regardless of what my mother might have thought. While I still cared deeply about my mom and detested the idea of being such a disappointment to her, I had to forge my own path.

  I considered retiring to my room to sleep off the alcohol, but that would have been all too responsible. I had defied my mother; I should be going all in with the rebellious teenager act and find a keg to chug, or a hot bad boy to bang.

  Except I was on a boat. In the middle of the ocean. And my only company seemed to be dozens of balding, beer-bellied, middle-aged men, and possibly one cute shirtless guy who I hadn’t seen in far too long…

  At that point, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t hallucinated the entire meeting. Even if he was real, he was probably gay. Men that handsome were always gay, or taken. Possibly both, but almost always one or the other.

  Regardless, I would not tuck my tail between my legs and slink off to my room to sleep off the humiliation. There was a large pool on the upper deck, and I could only imagine that it was deserted at that moment, as everyone else on board was celebrating the imminent expansion of my mother’s company. I was beginning to feel like a resentful sibling, but it wasn’t as if I could hold my own against a Fortune 500 company.

  I had to stop thinking about it. I had to do something, anything, to take my mind off of the company and that cursed woman who seemed to haunt my thoughts. Where had that shirtless guy gotten to?

  I imagined my mother berating me for thinking I stood a chance with him. ‘Oh Ella, he’s out of your league! Men don’t like funny women!’

  She’d have been right, on some level at least; while I’d had boyfriends in the past who’d found my sense of humor to be to their liking, my snappy one-liners and sarcasm weren’t well received by the average businessman, or business man-child. The men I’d been set up with by my mother could hardly be considered real men, in any sense of the word. They were a bunch of entitled pricks who expected me to drop my panties as soon as they mentioned the phrase ‘stock brokerage.’ I enjoyed money just as much as the next girl, but I had plenty of my own.

  Not to brag, but there had been numerous times when I’d been forced to wonder if the men I dated were the male equivalent of gold diggers. The wonders of living in the lap of luxury: nothing was real. Most women had breast implants, most men had hour-long grooming routines, and love was the sort of thing you read about in fairy tales.

  I liked to believe that someday I would find my Prince Charming. I was losing hope on the whole ‘charming’ part, but I could still hold out for an unattractive monarch-in-training. At least I would get to see the world beyond staring at the back of my mother’s head as she dragged me on another business venture. Maybe I’d have an affair with a handsome gardener, or a pool boy.

  I’d had my fair share of bad sexual experiences in my time, usually inadvertently orchestrated by mother dearest. ‘But darling, he’s got such a wonderful personality, and his father is one hell of a looker.’ I’d met the majority of my mother’s employees, and it made me question what the hell she defined as a looker. Someone with eyes, possibly?

  By the time I finally stepped onto the upper deck, I was tired out. I wanted to lie to myself and say that the alcohol had absolutely nothing to do with it, but what was the point? I’d still have to answer to that dreaded hangover in the morning. For now, though, the stars shone brightly in the night sky, and I mused that it would have been a beautiful sight to share with someone.

  I found myself much less enchanted with that thought when I realized that there was someone else sprawled on one of the pool chairs. I couldn’t get a good look at him from where I was standing, and I was tempted to give up on the distant hope of enjoying the remainder of my night. I wasn’t going to let some deckhand ruin my efforts, however, and I certainly wasn’t going to balk at the sight of one of EBgen’s employees.

  I strode across the deck, vaguely aware that the alcohol in my system was making it increasingly hard to keep mys
elf calm and collected. I drew closer to the other person who was slumped in his pool chair, noting that he hadn't dressed in swimming trunks. He had his arm thrown across his eyes, and I could make out the well-formed musculature of his abdomen as I grew close. My mouth dried, and I was certain for a moment that I had found myself lost in some fever dream. As I sat in the seat beside him, I lost all doubt.

  “Funny, seeing you here,” I slurred, cursing myself for how tipsy I was.

  The man drew his arm away from his eyes, quirking a brow in my direction. He looked confused at first; but after a moment, recognition dawned in his eyes and he sat upright.

  “Oh, it’s you. Sorry about nearly running you over earlier today. I was in a bit of a hurry. For what good it did.” The stranger grinned, rolling his eyes.

  I tried to force a smile, but I could feel the booze blues creeping up on me. He watched me curiously, looking almost concerned.

  “I’m Paul, by the way. I wanted to catch your name, but, like I said…” He trailed off, offering me a broad smile. “It must be meant to be, us meeting here like this.”

  “Maybe. I’m having a bit of trouble with things that are meant to be, though,” I muttered, my mouth feeling gummy.

  The man hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from beside him and offering it to me.

  “Want a sip? You sound like you need it. Don’t worry; I don’t have cooties.”

  Hesitantly, I reached out to accept the bottle, and our hands brushed briefly. I felt my cheeks redden, musing that he looked all too pleased with himself. I also mused that it was an unquestionably good look on him.

  I took a long swig from the water bottle, swishing it in my mouth before gulping it down. I breathed a sigh, surprised at just how melancholy it sounded. I had to pull myself together. This cute guy thought meeting me at the pool was fate, and here I was, acting all sad and pathetic.

  “What’s bothering you, sweetheart? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he drawled, taking the bottle back from me.

  Feeling tears begin to pool in my eyes at the memory of what had happened with my mother, I shook my head slightly. There was no way this man could ever hope to understand—but at the very least, he wasn’t one of my mom’s employees. If I let off some steam venting to him, it wasn’t as if he would report it to her.

  “I had a fight with my mom,” I murmured, wringing my hands. “It’s the same old thing. She’s been trying to run my life since I was born, and it just…it finally came to a head.” I met his gaze, and he looked at me curiously.

  “Does your mom work for EBgen? I was under the impression that this ship was rented out for company use,” he inquired softly, taking a sip of his water.

  Distantly, I had the immature thought that the sip was almost like an indirect kiss. My cheeks reddened again, and I cleared my throat, processing his question about five seconds too late.

  “Oh. Oh, you don’t know my mother?” I replied, dreadful uncertainty in my voice.

  Was there truly a man who had not been tainted by my mother’s touch? Metaphorically, of course. There was no way this stud would have banged my mom. Ugh. That was not a thought I wanted to entertain, but, once again, my mother had a way of forcing her way into every facet of my life.

  “I’m afraid not, doll. Should I know her?” he asked, resting his head back and staring skyward.

  I wanted to babble on about what a beautiful night it was and ignore further thoughts regarding Martha Beck. But I knew I owed him an explanation.

  “My mother is Martha Beck. She’s the owner of EBgen, and she’s been trying to groom me into taking over for years. I just…” I trailed off, noticing that he looked stricken. “Is something wrong?”

  Perhaps he was not as untouched by my mother as I had thought. It was a silly notion anyway, for anyone not to know who she was. She was one of the most famous business leaders in the country. I parted my lips, prepared to sputter out an excuse to leave, but Paul simply offered me a warm smile.

  “Not at all, darlin’. I was just surprised. Carry on,” he said nonchalantly.

  “I’m tired of thinking about my mom. Tell me about yourself, Paul.”

  I grinned. He seemed eager to oblige.

  Chapter Five

  Paul

  Jesus Christ, I could not believe my luck. I came up here to plot out my con in peace, and the daughter of the very woman I’m trying to get close to starts chatting me up. Funny how things work out.

  She looked as star-struck as she had before, but I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Truthfully, I probably looked a little star-struck to her, too. She was smoking hot, and when I’d almost bumped into her earlier that day, I’d never have guessed she was any relation to that old crow. I’d read up about her, but there had been no pictures, no physical descriptions. Almost as if Momma Beck was trying to protect her little girl from predators.

  It seemed to me that the only predator baby Beck had to worry about was her own flesh and blood, and well…myself, of course.

  I had to acknowledge how well it could work out for the con if I were to get close to this cute little lady. I couldn’t press the issue about her mother any further, though, at least not then. She looked utterly broken by what I could only assume had been some fallout. She asked me to talk about myself, and talking was something that Paul Drake could certainly pull off. He was especially happy to do so when it came to pretty girls with sad, brown eyes.

  “You wanna know about little old me? Hell, there ain’t a whole lot to tell, sweetheart. I’m just a circus performer who managed to land a gig on this ritzy cruise. Have you looked into the entertainment? I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed, sweet stuff. It’s that real classy type of circus act, the sort with all kinds of acrobatics and such. We’re supposed to get painted up in body paint, the whole nine yards.”

  Pausing, I noticed the enraptured look on her face.

  I quirked my lips into a smile, sitting up and swinging my legs off the side of my chair. Her eyes widened, and I tried to make it clear that I was no danger to her. At least, not for the time being.

  “What’s your name, doll? Here I am talking it up, and I don’t know what to call you.”

  I grinned, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. She stiffened, and I thought to draw my hand away, but then she rested her hand on top of my own. Her skin was warm and soft, not all callused and dry like my own.

  “I’m Elizabeth. Everyone calls me Ella, though.”

  She smiled, looking coy. Aw, hell, this girl was too much for her own good. I wanted to spit some line about calling her mine, but I figured that would be too much, too fast.

  “All right, Miss Ella. Lovely name, I gotta say. It sounds like something you’d read in some fantasy book. Much better than Paul Drake.”

  I grinned at her again. She giggled softly, brushing her thumb along my knuckles. I pretended to be oblivious to her little touches, but Christ was she setting something inside me on fire.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Paul Drake sounds like a detective to me, or some gritty cop. Ella just sounds like the snooty debutante in a Victorian novel.”

  She grinned back at me, and I had to swallow a bark of laughter. Me? A cop? Maybe in another lifetime. Perhaps in another life, our stories would intertwine past this cruise. At that moment, though, I had to focus on the job at hand. This girl was precious, a real diamond in the rough. As much as I wanted to use her, I was more inclined to treat her like that Victorian debutante she had jokingly claimed to be.

  Call me a sucker.

  I shifted my hand in her grip to properly interlace our fingers, and drew her hand towards my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She blushed prettily, and I had to swallow a very un-masculine sigh.

  “My, my. Mr. Drake, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to sweep me off my feet,” she teased.

  I grinned toothily, relieved to see that she had cheered up, at least a little bit.

  “Well, you’d hav
e to be standing for that, sweets,” I quipped, and she laughed airily before lurching to her feet.

  She swayed from side to side, offering me a cute little smile. You could hear the music from the party on the lower deck, and in spite of myself, I found myself wanting to dance with her. A girl that pretty had no right to be on a ship like this, not when I had a job to execute. But the job could wait till morning, couldn’t it?

  “Dance with me, and sweep me off my feet properly, then, detective,” she requested playfully, continuing to sway from side to side.

  In spite of the business suit she was dressed up in, I found myself picturing every soft curve of her body beneath her clothes. Unable to help myself, a smile spread across my face as I rose out of my chair. I bowed formally, feeling pretty stupid and underdressed for the occasion. Then again, it wasn’t as much an occasion as it was a moment. Our moment.

  God, just a few minutes of talking to this princess, and I was already turning into a sap.

  “I feel like I should be wearing a suit and tie,” I said, standing upright and drawing her in.

  I rested a hand on the crescent of her hip, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, breathing a happy little sigh. It may have been pretty damn stupid, but it made me proud to be the one to cause that little bit of contentment. For a minute, I felt all the more determined to screw over this little bird’s crow of a mother.

  “You don’t need a suit. I like being able to see your muscles,” Ella whispered naughtily, pressing her palm against one of my pecs.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at what a little minx she was being, and I twirled her outward before drawing her in close once again.

  “God, what would my mother think, seeing me dancing with one of the entertainers,” Ella murmured.

  I rumbled a laugh, running a hand through her long chestnut curls. It was downright impressive how she managed to keep her hair so damn pretty after what had likely been a long night of fretting.