“What the hell was that?” she asked, squaring up to him.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Ophelia tensed in his arms, and he knew she must fear recognition, but Tiffany looked right through her.
“Put her down,” Tiffany said, distracted by whatever she was pulling up on her holopad. “And give me your tether. I’m not letting you off the auction floor until I’ve double-checked your code. You shouldn’t be able to walk off like that. The last thing we need is a defective bot fresh off the line.”
“Tiff!” Logan jogged over to them, red-faced and covered in a sheen of nervous sweat.
“I said put her down,” Tiffany said impatiently, ignoring Logan as she glanced up at Sam.
For a moment, he contemplated refusing. Ophelia was trembling in his arms, clearly still in need of comfort, but actingout of character now would make the brave act she’d endured all for nothing. Despite how it pained him, he lowered her to the ground. He braced a hand on the small of her back when she swayed on her feet.
“Tiffany, I’ve got this,” Logan said again, physically stepping between them. “Just leave it, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. Who the hell approved all of that? Anal play? The tongue thing? This is supposed to be a universally appealing demonstration. What part of a three-foot tongue strikes you as universally appealing, Logan?”
Ophelia loosed a delirious little snort. All three of them turned to look at her in surprise. She looked away, clearing her throat.
“I’ll look into it,” Logan said, turning his attention back to his girlfriend.
He looked so wan and miserable. It wasn’t nearly as much suffering as he deserved for what he’d done to Ophelia, but it gave Sam some small satisfaction.
“When is the auction?” Ophelia asked hoarsely.
Tiffany did a double-take at her. Her penciled brows furrowed. “You…”
“Soon,” Logan answered quickly. “You should go… clean up.”
“Logan, what is she?—”
“Leave it,” he said harshly, glaring at Tiffany.
She recoiled as though he’d struck her. Her bottom lip trembled, but then her expression turned thunderous. “This was not the deal,” she hissed. “I want to know what she’s doing here right now.”
Ophelia snatched off her mask, glaring down at Tiffany from the few extra inches her high heels lent her.
“I’m here to buy an android, the details of which are none of your fucking business. Press your luck, if you’d like. I’m sure myfather’s fixers would be interested to hear about the Automata employee who’s been actively working to extort his company.”
Tiffany gaped, her mouth working in wordless indignation. She whipped her head toward Logan. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
Logan cast her a weary look. “Yes, Tiff.”
Tiffany’s anger seemed to be building upon itself, swirling into something that would destroy both her and anything caught in her radius. She jabbed a finger at Ophelia. “Let me be clear. The only way you’re walking out of here with one of my bots is over my dead body.”
Something flickered in Ophelia’s eyes. A strange, placid calm spread over her, stilling the faint trembling of her limbs. Then, as fast as a whip, her hand shot out and cracked across Tiffany’s cheek hard enough to make her stagger.
She ducked to meet Tiffany’s gaze, where she was doubled over. “Letmebe clear. I am leaving here tonight with this android. Do you understand me? I will make a very generous bid on him, the kind that will inspire your boss to write you abigbonus check this Christmas, and you will carry on with your sad, conniving little life like I never figured out that you were willing to destroy mine.”
Ophelia leaned in until they were nearly nose to nose. “But if you’re sure,reallysure, that the only way I leave this auction house with my android is over your dead body?” Her face lit with a venomous smile that made Sam’s cock twitch. “I am sure it can be arranged. What do you say, Tiffany? Am I making a bid tonight?”
The blonde woman straightened, turning her head to spit blood on the polished floor. She stormed off without answering.
Logan cursed. “I’ll handle this. Just get changed and get back to your seat.” He hustled off after the other woman, giving them a moment of respite alone.
A few people bustled around backstage with them—mostly androids. One of them walked by with the sheets they’d just soiled bundled up in his arms. Ophelia flushed at the sight.
“Come with me,” he murmured, taking her by the elbow and leading her behind a pile of props. When they were alone, he cupped her flushed face in both hands.
