The auction house will take their cut, and the remainder will go to Lorenzo Pontrelli. A dead man walking.
Several seconds pass as my bid remains unchallenged.
Then it changes to two point five million, and I curse.
Scanning the room, I try to find the bastard who’s still going up against me so I can drive my fist into his face. When his whereabouts aren’t immediately detectable, I type in three million.
And wait.
Then wait some more.
A countdown timer appears on the device’s screen. Thirty seconds.
Twenty seconds.
The last ten seconds feel like a lifetime.
I hold my breath. If anyone slides in at the last millisecond and outbids me, they’re fucking dead. I’ll hunt them down before they get a chance to touch Ravenna.
Five seconds left.
Four… Three… Two… One.
The screen flashes with a three million dollar bid.
I won.
Immediately, I head for the side door to claim my prize.
I hand my device over to the guard in exchange for Ravenna’s room number. That’s all the information I need before I’m pushing past him and marching along the dim corridor to room number five, where I don’t bother knocking.
I twist the handle and enter with so much force that the door bangs against the wall.
There, chained to a rickety old bed frame, sits my wife. Ravenna. The woman I never wanted to see again. Liar. Seductress.
Mine.
I go to her and drop to my knees, cupping her cheeks. Up close the damage to her face and body are even more pronounced. Her unfocused gaze shows the effects of the drugs coursing through her veins. I deeply inhale, trying to calm my flaring temper.
Someone signed their death warrant when they struck my wife. Was it her father? A guard?
On a growl, I ask, “Who did this to you?”
CHAPTER 18
Ravenna
Embarrassment cloaks me. I feel sick to my stomach. I must be hallucinating that the man before me is Cian. Anyone could be behind that black mask. But the drug's effect is starting to diminish and his features are clear. Blond hair, pale blue eyes, strong jawline.
But it can’t be him. Cian O’Rourke wouldn’t rescue me. He won’t even answer a text message. He hates me.
“Who hurt you?” he asks, tearing off his mask and throwing it aside.
It’s him.
My shock battles with the shame of what just happened, of being paraded around half naked in front of strangers. Bid on like an object.Soldto the highest bidder.
All of it against my will, yet there’s nothing I can do about it. My father sold me, now I belong to someone else. I may never see my family, my sister and cousins, again.
