Page 176 of The Contract

That guy next to him just shrugs. He’s big. Broad. Built like a slab of rot.

Jabba.

The asshole who escorted me in.

His eyes drag up my legs in a slow, savoring gaze. Lingering at my breasts. Licking his lips as he takes me all in.

Pausing—just for a beat—at my neck. Then settling on my mouth.

“The question isn’t how long,” he says, chuckling. “It’s how many she can take at once.”

Laughter follows, and my stomach twists. My blood runs ice-cold.

But I don’t move.

I stay in front of Mila.

Shaking. Crying. No where to go.

My hand finds the wall.

Fingertips dig in like maybe stone can hold me together.

I drag them down.

The scrape is one sharp, ugly, shred of skin.

Blood blossoms like petals from the wound.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

But I welcome it—because for one second, I’m not drowning.

I’m breathing.

And in the event someone ever comes looking for me—Kennedy looks for me—someone will know I was here.

R. I. L. E. Y.

My name. I carve my name.

Until I hear, “It’s a silent bid, gentlemen,” Declan announces, like he’s unveiling a fucking tasting menu. “We’ve decided to sell them both. Since both of them signed contracts.”

My spine locks. My heart stutters.

A small, dignified roar of applause.

“Without the necklace, this one’s worth less,” a man says, tone light. His gaze slides past me and latches on Mila. “A black necklace…”

“No holds barred. Do whatever you like, for as long as you like. Depravity to your heart’s content.” Declan flicks a cigarette at my chest. The ember hits the fabric, then the floor. It sizzles out. “That is, of course… until they stop breathing.”

Fear and anger boil over. In a wild fit—a need for control—I spit right in Declan’s face. And instantly regret it.

He wipes it into his cheek, tastes it, winks like it’s foreplay.

“And if the winner wants?” His grin splits wider. “They can fuck one of you right here. Center stage. While we all watch.”

My stomach lurches. Acid scalds my throat. I want to scream. But no sound comes.

---