He pointed to a red dot up in the corner.
“Number seventy-three?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my seat now.
He nodded, his eyes unmoving on the number.
The hologram flashed red—the entire screen.
I jerked back on my seat at the sudden change.
Then words flashed across the screen…
MAXIMUM BID MET. BIDDING IS CLOSED.
The little heart logo twirled above it.
“Oh my,” I gasped. With urgency, my attention met that of the man across from me. “Seriously?”
A grin plastered itself on his handsome face. “Seriously.”
Absently, in the far reaches of my mind, I wondered if he got a commission on that bid. He sat straighter in his chair, the smile never leaving his face. The man was damn pleased with the outcome.
Even as he started typing on the computer board again, he still grinned. “Marriage Match you the winner’s information. Home, number, and name. Under the contract you agreed to, you must meet him within twenty-four hours. Only one bag is allowed for personal items, so he’ll know you need more clothing—if you require it. That’s all covered in the Marriage Match fee, which he’s already paid.”
My mouth bobbed, still completely numb inside. “That man didn’t even see a picture of me! How can he bid that much?”
Mr. Striker snickered. “There was a photo of you. It was in your medical file. All medical files have them.”
“Oh.” I nodded, though it was a bit mechanical in nature. “I forgot they took that picture.”
“Did you hear me about the guidelines?”
“Yes. I have to meet him within twenty-four hours. Only one bag allowed.” My eyes widened as reality wrapped around my entire frame, terrified shivers racing down my spine. “I’ll be married soon.”
Mr. Striker’s lips curled up at the edges with humor. “Unless you die before your twenty-fifth birthday, then yes, you’ll be married soon. Congratulations. You’re officially engaged!” He pointed a sharp finger at me and winked. “Just don’t die first. He paid good money for our services. I don’t want our company getting a bad reputation if one of our gals loses her head before the wedding bells chime.”
I stared. Unblinking. “I’ll try not to die.”
“Good plan, Ms. Peyton. And you got yourself a winner!” He paused and then clapped his hands. “Picture time! It’s standard procedure when a maximum bid is met.”
I sighed and peered heavenward. “Okay.”
“I’ll send it to you, too. You must have a token of this very happy day in your life.”
Happy day?
More like… Scared. Shitless.
