The questions didn’t stop.
“Have you ever been with a woman sexually before?”
“No.”
Red. My cheeks were flaming red on my tan skin.
“Have you ever been pregnant before?”
My heart rate slowed down. I relaxed again.
I answered easily, “No.”
“Would you like to have children?”
“One day, maybe.”
“Are you on birth control?”
“Yes.” I tapped on my silver bracelet, showing him the proof I was good for a few more months.
He nodded his head. “Do you have any special requirements for a husband?”
I was silent for a long moment, staring off to the side. When I answered, it was with complete honesty. “I would like a man who is kind. A man who is funny. A man I don’t mind sleeping next to every night.”
His fingers tapped furiously on the computer board, and then he stated, “Do you have any specific religious beliefs?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Mr. Striker’s brown eyes met my own brown eyes. He smiled and sat back in his chair. “The only thing left is your medical release.”
I tapped on my silver bracelet again. “Do you just want me to transfer it to Marriage Match’s system?”
He nodded an affirmative. “Once that’s in, we’ll start the bidding.”
I brushed my fingers over my bracelet, watching the data of my medical release hover through the air…and then sink into the hologram before me.
Mr. Striker eyed the release, noting the approved notes at the top. Then he tapped a key. One single key on his computer board—a single peck of his finger to change my life forever.
The bidding began.
“It’s already happening?” I asked in shock.
My heart pounded in my chest as pings of red shot onto the hologram, each new one knocking the other down. Dollar amounts appeared in red then shoved away, disappearing. The amount continued to rise, higher and higher. My jaw was hanging as I saw what men were willing to pay Marriage Match to bring us together—until death do us part.
“It’s all part of the program, Ms. Peyton. There are many men in New City who sign up with us, each receiving an alert right now, and you’re seeing the ones who are interested and the ones who are dropping out.”
I gulped and pressed my right hand to my mouth—damn, I smelled like fish. But I rambled, “When does it stop?”
“Ultimately, if there’s a maximum bid made that’s set by Marriage Match that could stop the bidding. Though, that rarely happens. Let’s just say it’s a lot. So typically, the bidding should be through within two days when all eligible bachelors have tapped to show that they’ve seen the alert and whether they wish to bid or not.”
My eyes were drying out. I hadn’t blinked for a while.
I blinked.
“Wait.” Mr. Striker sat forward quickly. His eyes sparked with interest on the hologram. “This man’s filthy rich. He may hit that max bid. Let’s see what he does.”
“Where?” My eyes darted over the hologram.
