Tears form in my eyes and a whimper escapes as the reality of the situation sinks in. I glance back at the men still standing by the door, and something in my face must spur Mr. Stone into action.
“That’s enough,” he says, forcing himself between my stepfather and me. He stands with his back to me, and I’d almost think the move is a protective one, but I know that can’t be it, not in the way I want it to be. He’s merely protecting his investment. He paid for me after all. The thought alone sends my heart dropping to my stomach.
Craig lifts his hands as he backs away. “No problem, mister. She’s all yours; I was just saying my goodbyes.” He leans to the side and looks at me, “Be a good girl now,” he says, before he turns and walks out of the room.
Another whimper escapes as I press myself as tightly as I can into the corner, and Mr. Stone turns at the sound. He eyes me for a moment before reaching out a hand, palm up.
“You’re safe with me; I’m not going to hurt you. Pain isn’t my kink,” he says with a smirk. I stare at his hand like it’s a viper that might lash out at any second before I cautiously reach out to take it. He pulls me toward him, then turns to Ivan, flipping our hands and lacing his fingers with mine as he does. Inexplicably, the move makes me feel safe, protected. So does the way he angles his body so I’m slightly behind him, like a solid barrier between me and the rest of the world.
“Ivan, is there anything else, or are we free to go?”
The other man looks up from his tablet like he’d forgotten we were even in the room. He blinks quickly, then says, “No, Mr. Stone. I’ll have the transfer instructions sent to you for the remainder of the payment. If you have any questions or concerns, you know how to reach us.” With that, Ivan exits the room without even a backward glance for me, leaving me alone with my…buyer.
Mr. Stone looks over his shoulder at me and says, “Let’s get out of here.” With a gentle tug on our joined hands, he leads me out of the room and to the gilded elevator I’d been so excited to ride less than an hour ago.
God, it’s all happened so fast.
Part of me screams to pull my hand away and flee, but a greater part of me wants to cling to this man, the only one who’s shown me even a little kindness tonight, and never let go.
Holding tightly to his hand, I follow him silently through the building, past the stoic door guard, and out onto the sidewalk where a sleek sports car is parked. The snow is still falling lightly, but not accumulating yet. Glancing around the area, thecheery Christmas lights on the nearby shops and street lights are a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions swirling through me. Mr. Stone helps me into the front passenger seat of the car, then rounds the hood and slides behind the wheel. The engine roars to life a moment later, and he deftly maneuvers the car onto the empty road.
Clutching my fingers in my lap and closing my eyes, I lean my head against the window, hoping the chill of the glass will calm my racing heart. In such close quarters, I’m enveloped by the fragrance of a cologne with hints of worn leather and cedar. It’s a soothing scent, and I’m surprised to feel myself relaxing in the warm seat.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when the car door opens and I’m stirred awake. Before I can fully process where I am or what is happening, strong arms lift me from the seat and settle me against a solid, warm body. Too tired to protest, I rest my head on a broad shoulder covered in soft wool that tickles the skin of my cheek. I peek my eyes open and am surprised to see we are inside a spacious multi-car garage. The only light comes from the overhead garage door motor as it slides closed, but it’s enough for Andrew to navigate his way toward the door on the far wall, still cradling me in his arms.
Once through the door, Mr. Stone sets me on my feet, and I immediately miss the feeling of safety being in his arms gave me. He steps back and removes his coat, hanging it on the wall as I look around. We are in what appears to be a mud room. I can see a kitchen through the open door on the other side of the room. He toes off his shoes, so I follow suit, placing my heels next to his expensive-looking loafers.
“I’m sure you have some questions, and there is a lot we need to talk about, but it’s been a long night, and I’m exhausted. Let’s have a seat and settle the essential details, then call it a night.Sound good?” Mr. Stone says, gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen.
“Um, y-yes,” I stammer, confused and overwhelmed, but relieved at the suggestion of finally getting some answers.
The kitchen is modern and spacious. Across from a wide island is an informal dining nook surrounded by windows on three sides. It’s too dark to see what lies beyond the glass, but judging by the high-end design of the space, I’m sure the yard is just as impressive as the house.
He pulls a stool out from the island and guides me to it, then he rounds the counter and pulls two glasses from a cabinet near the sink. Once he’s filled both with water, he sets one in front of me and takes the stool next to mine.
“First things first, I suppose. Introductions. I’m Andrew Stone, and this,” he gestures at the space around us, “is my home. You’re welcome to stay here for the time being.”
“H-Holly Taylor,” I respond. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.” It feels strange to thank this man. On the one hand, he’s been nothing but kind to me so far, but I can’t forget that he isn’t some good Samaritan. He won me, bought and paid for.
“Please, call me Andrew. Is it okay if I call you Holly?”
I nod, because I seem to have lost my voice.
“So,” he chuckles sardonically, “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that this isn’t a typical Friday night for you.”
“No,” I say shyly, staring at the glass I’m clutching with both hands like it’s the only lifeline I have.
“Can I ask what made you decide to enter yourself into a virginity auction in the first place?”
I’ve just taken a sip of water and end up spitting it out across the island at his words. I cover my mouth, but can’t stifle a coughing fit and have to risk another sip of water to calm myself down as Andrew jumps up to grab a towel and wipe up the mess.
“I’m sorry!” I say once I’ve caught my breath. “I can clean it up. Please, let me.” I reach for the towel, but he waves me off, tossing it aside and retaking his seat.
“Not the response I expected. Am I safe to assume your reaction means you didn’t know what tonight’s event was? Didn’t Ivan have you sign the waivers and NDAs?” His eyes darken and his jaw clenches, like the idea of Ivan not doing his job properly infuriates him. Is he Ivan’s boss or something? I don’t understand his reaction.
“H-he had me sign a couple things on his tablet, but I don’t know what they said. Craig, my stepfather, told me he’d reviewed them already and to just sign. I…he told me tonight was an audition for a singing contest. I’m-I want to be a singer.”
That seems to pique his interest, but instead of asking about it, he says, “Clearly your stepfather lied to you. Tonight was an auction for men with deep pockets to bid on a woman’s virginity—and whatever else the women are willing to give them.” He must see something on my face because he adds quickly, “Ivan assured me that the women in the auction all volunteered. Knowing what I do aboutZoltoy Dom’sowners and their reputations, I’m inclined to believe him. I don’t think you were the only person your stepfather lied to.”
