Page 7 of Her Double Desire

Chapter 3

Veronica

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My eyes are wide, mypalm over my mouth as the memory shifts in my head. Anxiously, I eyeball the two men staring at me with different expressions. Jared is curious, but Shawn seems frustrated.

“You remember everything, then.” Jared says it like a fact. I nod in affirmation. “What about the branding process?”

“How could she remember that?” Shawn laughs, not bothering to soften his disdain. “She was drunk off her ass, nothing could wake her. Did you really need that much alcohol to find the guts to put yourself up for sale?”

My stomach coils in a knot. I understand what they were talking about earlier, saying they'd bought me. Licking my lips, my throat dry and raw, I struggle to sound calm. “I didn't put myself up for sale.”

Jared's frown stretches severely. “Excuse me?”

“It was an accident.” I wave a hand flippantly. “Sorry if I caused any trouble for anyone. I swear, I'm suffering plenty of embarrassment over it right now.” I give a weak laugh. “Ugh, could I get some water? This hangover is murdering me.”

Shawn's eyebrows haven't moved away from his hairline. “I'm sorry, back up. You didn'tmeanto walk out half-naked onto the auction stage last night?”

“I didn't know that's what was happening,” I say, trying to keep my smile on. But their black moods are warning me that this situation might be even worse than I realized. “I thought I was just getting some really over the top ink! I was going to piss my boss off, you know, since you can't have visible tattoos at Mickame Insurance... and... and I was just trying to make a grandstand before I quit because IknewMr. Buchanan was planning to fire me anyway!”

It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.

Shawn covers his mouth, muffling his chuckle. Abruptly he bends over, hands on his thighs, still laughing while trying to talk. “Fantastic call, Jared! You got us to purchase a slave who isn'tactuallya slave!” Wiping his eyes, he sneers at the green-eyed man. “You'll be the one taking the fall for this, not me. I didn't even want to buy her.”

“You agreed to it,” Jared whispers calmly. “If either of us goes down, webothgo down, Shawn. Or do you think Oliver will just shrug off the fact we blew his cash on a woman who thought she was getting the equivalent of a tramp stamp on her face?”

Before my eyes, Shawn turns pale as cream. “What are the chances that Brander's Alley gives us a refund.”

Jared levels a flat stare on him. “You know their policy.”

“What's their policy?” I ask, throwing nervous looks between them both.

“Half to Brander's,” Jared says, “for providing the auction location, tattoo services, paperwork, lawyers, and full anonymity to all involved. The rest goes into a special bank account used to guarantee your room, board, and any other necessities for five years, as long as the contract remains intact.”

It takes me a bit to parse this. “You're telling me that I sold myself, but none of the money belongs to me?”

“It's yours in the sense that, legally, it has to be used in your interest, as long as you work for this house,” Jared explains. “Telling Brander's to give that chunk of money back would cause them to hack a percent off just for the convenience. It's like cashing out your retirement fund early.”

Is this all about money?I wonder.Of course it is. Everything in this world is about money.Even this house, these men, are dripping in luxury. And here I am, barefoot in a plain white shirt. The contrast is stark.

The more I learn, the more furious I'm getting. “Someone has to fix this,” I say, tapping my neck. “Brander's or you guys, or whoever this Oliver person is, someone is going to take responsibility and remove this ink.”

Shawn ignores me, facing Jared fully. “What do we do? Are we screwed because we foolishly assumed this girl meant she had four years ofslave trainingunder her belt, and not... sorry, what was your old job?”

“I worked for an insurance company,” I mumble.

Shawn puts his head in his hands.

I toss a look over my shoulder. There's a double set of doors with painted glass. The wide windows next to them show hints of sunlight through their blinds.That's my way out of here.I know I have to leave, this situation is insane and these men are consumed by their own regrets instead of being interested in helping me.I need to call Sonya.“Where are my things?” I ask.

Jared has his hand over his chin. It's like he's in his own world.

“Hey,” I say, louder. “My things? Purse, clothes, phone?”

“In the lock-box,” Shawn says, lifting his head just enough to stare at me. “Did you think we robbed you? I'll go get your things, might as well get you off the property so we can start working on how we'll explain the news to Oliver.”

He takes one step before Jared says, “Wait.” He fixes his intense, unblinking eyes on me. “She's not leaving. Not just yet.”

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