I point to the door Nikki used. "We know the woman who just went in. Need to talk to her."
He chuckles, deep and dismissive. "For the right price, you can do more than talk."
My fists ball but a fight won't help us get to her. "I'm serious. It's a family matter."
Dylan steps up. "She's our sister. We need her—"
The bouncer's laugh booms. "Call her."
I lean forward, my voice as solid as steel. "She's our stepsister and she—"
"Stepsister. That's a hot ticket around here. One year, all of the women were won by their stepbrothers." He smirks, unfazed.
"It's not like that." The lie sits heavy and useless.
"Get your checkbooks ready," he says, jerking his chin at the main entrance. "Or someone else gets totalkto her tonight."
Another bouncer steps up, his hand on his radio. "I can escort you to the main entrance, or if you're going to cause trouble, the cops can—"
Dylan raises his palms. "No trouble. We just need details. How do we sign up?"
The bouncer lays it out while escorting us to the main entrance. The auction kicks off in minutes, bids are anticipatedto hit the million-dollar mark. The money goes to charity, and we learn a new term… reverse harem.
I try one last time. "You sure I can't get a message to her?"
"Laz would have my balls if I interfered with his auction."
"Understood." I whip out my phone, dial our accountant and tell Dylan to get us registered.
Inside, the stage is brightly lit while the rest of the room is dim. Dylan waves me to seats on the far side of the room.
The emcee announces the first woman up for auction, a woman with a kid. What the fuck? She's a guardian, not a biological mother, but still. Isn't that weird?
The important thing is that it's not Nikki.
I study the room, unable to believe an event like this is real. Bids escalate until one guy passes the million-dollar mark for a win.
During the transition, I read the program again. No Nikki. Jolene just went. "You suppose Nikki's going by Starla? Bellamie? Molly?
The second woman takes the stage. Not Nikki. I'm torn between relieved and nervous. Bids go sky high again, and also for the third woman, only leaving Molly.
The emcee announces, "And now for our fourth and final virgin. We have another unusual scenario. She might be a virgin, but doesn't know for sure. She has amnesia. So even if she's had sex, she can't remember it. I assured her that someone here would help rebuild her memories with the best orgasm of her life. Let's welcome Molly!"
The spotlight shines on Molly—Nikki—as she takes the stage. Her dress is as revealing as the other three. A far cry from the baggy sweats and no makeup. But without a doubt, the dark hair, sharp cheekbones, full, bright lips, and porcelain skin belong to our stepsister.
My heart stops. Three months later and still has amnesia. That’s why she didn't notice us at the grocery store—she doesn't remember us. That’s why she's been gone so long—she doesn't remember her life. Didn't even know where to go home to.
We wanted her before we ever read her diary. It’s time to straighten that out.
Dylan claps my arm. "We have to protect her.”
I want her even more now. I nod, my throat too dry to answer. The need to scream out that we're her brothers is almost too much to stifle. "If we cause a scene, we get kicked out. We have to win her."
She works the crowd, her gaze sweeping tables. Chin up, she waves and flirts with each group of men. Her attention moves closer to us.
What if she recognizes us, gets a memory? Would that freak her out?
Her eyes shift to our table. She pauses, smiles, and waves. Identical to the way she handled every other table.
