The room stills as the two men continue to go back and forth, bidding against each other in half a million increments. Eight point five million. Nine million. Nine point five. Ten.
At the rate they are going, it doesn’t seem like either of them will stop.
I don’t move onstage. I don’t flip them off or curse. I’m frozen. It’s only now do I wish I was still wearing my robe to cover up.
None of the men’s focus is on me; it’s on the two remaining bidders. It’s a game. And I can hear the bets from the other men in the room about who is going to win me.
Win me—ha. I’d like to see a man try to ‘win me.’ It can’t be done. I’m not a possession.
“Twelve million,” Oscar shouts.
The room falls silent; we all turn our heads in the direction of the other man. He leans back, out of the candlelight of the table. He’s alone. He didn’t bring a guard or companion to help him discuss. And I haven’t seen him reach for his phone to secure more funds. He’s doing this completely on his own.
Finally, I see the man lead forward until the green of his eyes flickers in the candlelight.
Gorgeous.
Consuming.
Evil.
Just the kind of man I would be attracted to if we met in a club. The wrong kind of man. The dangerous kind. The kind who will destroy me the second he gets the chance.
That’s what is so fucked up about this. If he had just asked me out at a bar—bought me a drink, I would have ended up in his bed for less than the twenty bucks he’d spend on drinks. He could have gotten me with a pleasant exchange of words.
I enjoy sex. I would have spread my legs and tried any weird fantasy he had. Instead, he’s dropping a small fortune, ensuring his place in hell, and fucking with my life.
I should thank him, though. Because if the other scenario had happened and he was a good lay, I might have gone out with him again. I might have fallen in love with him before I realized what a monster he is. This way, there is no chance of me falling in love. No chance of a broken heart. Just a broken leg if I don’t behave.
“Twenty million,” the bidder says in a deep, gravelly voice. The kind of voice that says this ends now. I’m already his, and he won’t let any other man win.
Oscar drops his mic, and silence turns to murmuring. Every man in this room has money. Every man in this room could drop that kind of money to buy me if they wanted to, but these men also like a bargain. They like a good deal, and they won’t spend a fortune on one woman when they could buy five for the same price.
I let my eyes drop, making sure my pussy hasn’t turned to gold or something, and that’s why this man is bidding so high. But it hasn’t. I don’t have a clue why he thinks I’m so special to him.
Everyone turns their head to the other bidder, waiting to see what he’ll do.
“Twenty-five million,” he says casually, but I can hear the fear in his voice. This is as high as he can go. He won’t bid again.
“Thirty,” the other man says almost immediately.
Heads snap back and forth, giving me whiplash.
“Thirty million going once.”
Silence.
“Twice.”
Nothing.
“Sold.”
Sold—that word is going to change my life. Most likely for the worse. But maybe I can find a way to use the situation to my advantage. I was just sold for $30 million. I’m valuable. Use it.
Before I realize what’s happening, two of the guards have me by my arms and are forcing me off stage.
I try to speak, but one look from the guard who has been relatively nice so far shuts me up. I guess when you are worth thirty million dollars, no one lets you talk or walk or do anything on your own—at least not until the transaction has been made.
My robe is shoved at me.
“Put it on,” the guard says.
I do, happy to have clothes on again. I look around and realize I wasn’t brought back to the cage where I was held with the other girls. I’m back in the dressing room, except this time there are no beauticians waiting to style me. This time it’s just me and the two guards.
“What happens now?” I ask as I tie the sash tightly around my waist and fold my arms across my chest.
“We wait for the money to be deposited. Then you will go to your new owner,” the guard says.
“I’m not property. You can’t just sell me.”
He grins. “We already did.”
Fight—that is who I am. I fight.
I don’t care that these men have more muscle in a single-arm than I do in my entire body. I don’t care that they have guns while I only have nails for a weapon. None of that will stop me from fighting.
I run full force in the guard’s direction—angry, pissed, and unconfined. At the last second, I kick my foot up, using the pointed heel of my shoe to dig into his groin.
I hit my target.
I grin as he doubles over in pain.
I hear the other guard coming at me from behind, and I elbow him, hearing the whoosh of the blood spilling from his nose when I break it. I feel invincible in this moment. I can take on two grown men, no problem. Where I come from, you learned to be scrappy or you didn’t survive. I’m a survivor.
I’ll sneak out the back and never return.
I’ll hot-wire a car and then steal a boat. I’ll be gone from this god-forsaken island. I’ll be free.
I reach for one of the men’s guns, when a deadly voice stops me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
My hand falls at his words. What the fuck?
I don’t let men control me. I don’t let a voice like that penetrate my armor. But his does. His pushes through my outer shell and cracks through like lightning splitting a tree in half. He splits my soul.
I swallow and then reach again, pushing his stupid voice down.
“Stop, Siren.”
My hand freezes midair.
Stop listening to him. But there is something so commanding in his tone. Something that makes me want to listen to him. His voice convinces my heart he knows what’s better for me than I do. It’s a lie. My brain knows it, but my heart is easily tricked.
I turn slowly and come face to face with the man who will haunt me the rest of my life, even though I already know from his voice who he is.
“You can leave,” Zeke says to the two guards.
“Yes, sir,” they both answer before leaving Zeke and me alone in the room.
For a moment, I think Zeke might be my savior. He may have bought me to set me free. But no man spends thirty million on a woman just to set her free.
Maybe he does?
Maybe this man is good?
Maybe he realized he owed me after I saved his life?
A life for a life.
“You owe me,” I say, raising my hope. I shouldn’t do it. I’ve been burned by too many men before. I’ve learned better than to trust a man. I’d be better off trusting a weasel.
“I owe you nothing.”
Damn, his voice vibrates through me. A wisp of his hair falls out of the man bun in front of his face. His eyes darken. His jaw tenses. And his lips hide whatever truth he dares to never speak.
I burn down his walls with the glare in my eyes. But he doesn’t move. Or flinch or show any weakness.
“I saved your life.”
He shakes his head. “Julian Reed saved me. You merely transported me from the middle of the ocean to this island. I owe you a voyage to a destination not of your choosing.”