Page 9 of Auctioned

“Your owner won’t be as forgiving as we are,” Topher says while I thrash my body and scream for help.

James walks over to where I can see him. “The potential buyers are?—”

“You’re a lawyer,” I shriek. “You’re normal people. Normal people! Enough with this auction bullshit!”

Without giving me an answer, James takes the cuffs from Topher and tosses them to the floor.

“Dad’s right. We don’t need these.” Topher’s sickening breath is on my cheek. My dinner threatens to expel itself once again. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have you fight me. A girl from foster care. I bet you’re as wild as you claimed to be.”

“Stop it! This isn’t you!”

His dad’s eyes are full of rage. Of something more. Whatever it is, he’s quick to snuff it out. “Do you really think we’ve accumulated all this wealth throughout the years by running a law firm?”

It isn’t that far-fetched, is it? Hawthorne Morgan is the most prominent criminal law firm on the East Side. Their clients range from Mafia bosses to politicians to other wealthy bastards.

It makes sense. It?—

Topher’s hand is a manacle on my nape.

“Stop. Fucking stop.” For reasons that are beyond me, his dad’s had enough. James’s hand curls around my wrist. He uses the other one to peel Topher’s off me.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“I warned you. Ordered you to be careful.” When his cold stare lands on Topher, I shiver. “Since you failed to listen, I’ll take it from here. Go ahead, start walking.”

Topher scoffs, lingering next to us for another second.

Then he relents.

I would’ve done the same. James is terrifying. Another shiver runs through my body.

His son walks ahead and away from us.

However, I’m not so naïve as to think I’m in the clear. Danger is very much present.

James guides me across the expansive halls of the Hawthorne mansion.

Where hell awaits.

“Let. Me. Go,” I snarl at him.

“No.”

Topher waits for us, holding open a hidden door. Where are we? How did we get this far from the dining room?

“That other source of income, what is it exactly?” I keep my tone as conversational as possible.

Maybe, if I don’t fight, if I pretend to accept my situation, he’d get bored. Both of them.

I’m a great actress when I put my mind to it.

In high school, I’d gotten a couple of leads in our school’s drama club. That was my ticket to college, how I landed my scholarship.

College. My chest caves at the memories. I should’ve never dropped out. I get that now.

Had I stayed, I wouldn’t have been on that bench the day I met Topher. I would’ve been working on my master’s or spending hours stuck in an office.

I wouldn’t have had the afternoon off to read a book in Union Square and think about what the hell I was going to do with my life.

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