Eli blows out a sharp breath. “Listen to me, because I’m not going to repeat myself. There is an auction you are going to join at the club. I’ll email you an application. You’re going to fill it out and send in photos of yourself, and you’d better hope they accept you and he doesn’t find out before you apply, because then the plan is fucked. Do you understand me? Do not screw this up.”
My chest grows tight, my breaths suffocating in my lungs. “And how am I supposed to make sure he doesn't find out if he owns it?”
He shrugs. “That’s on you. If this plan doesn’t work, then you figure out another way, because I’m getting that fucking ledger. Do you hear me?”
He leans in, his face so close I can smell his cologne, and every part of me recoils. I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me if I don’t go along with this, but I’m even more terrified of what he’ll do to Milo.
“So I’m supposed to apply to the auction,” I say, my mouth dry. “Then what?”
“On the application, you’ll indicate you’re interested in the claim auction.”
“What the heck is that?”
“You don't get to ask questions. You just do whatever the fuck I say. Got it?” His tone sharpens, then smooths like he’s explaining something simple to a child. “Whatever the winning bid is, you get half of the money, so it's a nice payday for you.”
Half the money. How much money are we even talking about?
“The bidding starts at half a million dollars.” He grins. “You’re welcome.”
“What?” The word comes out thin, almost soundless.
“That’s right.” He leans back like he’s proud of himself.
But I know this isn’t good. Whatever I’m forced into isn’t going to be safe for me. No one gives you that kind of money unless you’re selling yourself.
Disgust rolls in the pit of my stomach. What the hell is he making me do?
“Please. Maybe I can figure out another way. I don't think I can do this.”
“If I needed your help coming up with a plan, I would have asked you, but I don't. Not unless this one fails. This is what's going to happen. Your goal is to make sure that Kirill is the winner, so you’d better make sure he sees you getting up on thatstage about to sell your own dignity.” His lips tilt in a pleased little smile, like he’s savoring the idea of hurting me.
“And if he wins me, then what?” I ask. “You think he’s just going to magically move me into his house? Your plan is ridiculous.”
A short, bitter laugh breaks free before his palm cracks across my cheek so hard my head whips to the side.
“You think you can laugh at me, you little skank?!”
White-hot pain explodes along my skin. My hand flies up to my cheek, ears ringing, eyes flooding, but I swallow hard and force the tears back.
I won’t let him see me cry. I’ve given him enough already.
“He’ll see how desperate you are for money and he’ll want to help you, so yeah, this plan will work. And if it doesn’t…” His tone dips. “Then he’ll be visiting your grave instead.”
Everything in me recoils. He talks about killing me like it’s nothing.
“How do you live with yourself?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can bite them back. “Do you actually enjoy this?”
“Yeah, I enjoy it very much.” His irises glitter. “Now get the fuck out of my car.”
“Don't you need my e-mail or number?”
“I already have both, so don’t worry about that.” His mouth twists into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Like I said, I’ve been tracking you for a while.”
Chills run up my arms as I picture him everywhere, just waiting for his chance to get to me.
I grab the handle and push the door open, desperate to put space between us, to breathe air that doesn’t taste like him. It feels like climbing out of a cage.
I’m halfway out when his voice cuts through the quiet lot.
