“When she was little, she dreamed of finding unicorns and ending world hunger. As you can see, at least she fulfilled one of her wishes tonight.” Madame gestured to the stage filled with unicorns, prompting a chuckle from several men.
Amaya maintained a close-lipped smile, focusing on the back wall and the heavy, enormous set of double doors. Oh, how she would love to take off and not deal with the repercussions of her life.
“Lolita is a vibrant, gorgeous, eager girl who’s waiting for the right man to make her a woman.”
Amaya flushed. Eager? The light felt stronger on her, heating her skin. She squinted and looked around the room without making direct eye contact with any of the suitors. Until her gaze collided with another.
A man on the first row, who watched her intently.
Little shivers raced down her spine and she swallowed. Even sitting, he exuded power and elegance, his broad shoulders stretching the crisp white shirt and dark gray suit jacket. She salivated, trying to remember the last time she’d seen a man so sexy. Probably never. Lustrous hair framed his face, the black strands whispering over his shoulder.
She dipped her head a bit, trying to figure out his eye color from the small opening in the mask around his eyes. Even from a distance, she spotted a glint, a flicker—a promise.
Desire arrowed down her body, unsettling her core. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, finding it impossible to keep still. She forced herself to yank her attention from him and focus on the wall again, but she still felt him watching her.
“Now, we’re auctioning a month with her, starting at five hundred thousand dollars. A steal, gentlemen.”
Silence.
A man on the last row waved a bidding paddle. “Five hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. Madame Alexa had told her not to fidget, to show strength and confidence. Easy for her to say—she wasn’t the one standing in a room filled with wealthy men who wanted to screw her, a total stranger, for the chance of breaking her in. Dios mio. A show of paddles in the middle section made her heart skip a few beats, a drop of sweat rolling down her back. She tried to tune out the white noise, the amounts men shouted, and Madame Alexa’s consistent and steady delivery.
Were they really paying that much for her? If this goes through, I’ll write Randy a thank-you note for standing me up on prom. To think, I could have lost my virginity then.
She stole a glance in the direction of the man from the first row. He remained quiet, his long, tanned fingers caressing the paddle with his number on it. 69. Her nipples puckered. Such irony. A smile formed on his lips, and she parted her mouth, her head bobbing forward as if leaning for a kiss. She wondered if he shared the joke.
She gave herself a mental slap. No. Stop. What good could come from fantasizing about a man not willing to make an offer on her? Maybe she wasn’t his type. A thread of disappointment ran through her, deflating her a bit. With her luck, she’d end up with a man three times her age with a goiter and hair toupee—like the guy from the third row who eyed her with interest. And the worst? She’d give Toupee Grandpa her virginity, and pretend for a month to like all his advances. That was the price for her brother’s health.
“Nine hundred thousand dollars,” a man on the left shouted.
Whoa. She’d have access to half of it, once Madame Alexa got her 30 percent cut, within minutes after the transaction. The other half would come after the last calendar day—a way to guarantee the auctioned would be available for all thirty days. Unless, of course, the buyer preferred to pay beforehand and cut ties early.
“I think we can do even better,” Madame Alexa said. “Lolita, why don’t you give them a taste?”
Amaya reached for the sides of her dress, and with a swoosh, removed it. She’d rehearsed the act before, in front of a mirror, in a way less intimidating setting. Now, she stood in front of strange men, wearing nothing but white bikini briefs and a push-up bra. She’d told Madame Alexa she most likely didn’t need a push-up to maximize her DD breasts, but Madame Alexa had been adamant about maximizing her assets.
“One million dollars.” Someone lifted his paddle.
Holy fuck. Her breath caught in her throat. What kind of dirty things did that short, stocky man expect to do with her for such a crazy amount?
“One million and fifty thousand.” A man with facial hair, who had bid earlier, stood.
Madame Alexa held the hammer, narrowing her eyes at the crowd, studying their reactions. Someone must have mentioned the amount people usually made from these things, but Amaya’s mind drew a blank. This was it. The man with the long beard would buy her, and she’d be set for life. She didn’t have to enjoy sex—but she’d have to do it.
She’d abstained from having sex because what had happened to her belated sister Malena scared her straight. A teenage pregnancy, followed by complications during delivery, then death and loss of the baby. And now she’d give—or rather sell—her virginity away like nothing. But not for nothing.
Cold sweat slicked her forehead, and she discreetly lifted her hand and wiped it off. With each passing second, her heart drummed in her ears. She touched her hair, and was about to run her fingers nervously into it, but stopped. Show confidence, Madame Alexa’s voice echoed in her ears.
“I give you one,” Alexa started, making eye contact with the highest bidder, then skimming the crowd. “I give you two.”
“Two million dollars.” The hot man from the first row, the one she’d made eye contact with, stood, clenching his paddle.
She took a step back, even though she was feet away on the stage and he was in the audience. Sitting, he had been commanding and in control. Standing, with his feet apart, his spine locked into place, the man was a monstrosity of flesh and sin.
Gorgeous. Sexy. Lethal.
A mix of fear and excitement bolted through her bloodstream. Maybe she’d have been safer with Grandpa Toupee, or in fact, any of the other men in the room. But as Madame Alexa slammed the hammer on the table, she sucked in a breath. Safety hadn’t been why she’d done this in the first place.
