Page 7 of Crushing Clover

“Did he mention I left him this morning?”

“No.”

I thought of the money in my account, wanting to call Noah and scream at him for being such a jackass. Sure, I didn’t want to be with him anymore, but I also didn’t want them to hurt him. They were dangerous as shit, and Noah had sworn to me he would never get mixed up with them again.

“How much is it going to cost to make things right this time?”

She shook her head, the glint of sympathy in her eyes making my blood freeze in my veins. This was fucking bad.

“I have money.”

“Noah begged for a second chance, so the boss is pissed he fucked things up again. This time, there are only two options on the table—either he dies as an example to the others, or we sell you.”

What the fuck? Why me?

A hysterical laugh escaped my lips, but I got it under control. My head spun, and I felt like passing out, but, unfortunately, I stayed conscious. Maybe I’d have a heart attack right here. It felt like blood was about to come spurting out my ears, like the world’s grossest lawn sprinkler.

“Why not sellhim?” I asked, fighting down the feeling of disloyalty, but why did I have to lie in the bed he’d made for himself? “None of this is my fault.”

“We don’t sell men. Besides, he’s not much to look at. You? That red hair and the freckles?” She clicked her tongue. “You’re worth something.”

I swallowed and looked back at the man who’d brought me here. He was scrolling through his phone, looking bored by the exchange. How many times had he brought women to meetings like this?

“You talked to Noah about these two options already?”

“Yes. He sent us to you.”

I gave a short, sharp laugh, because of course he did. I could almost hear him begging me to fix this for him.

“How would you kill him?” I felt heartless for even asking.

“I don’t know. I’m assuming he’ll be shot. Maybe he’ll charm his way into an overdose, instead.”

“And if I choose to let you sell me? Then what?”

“Then, you’d go up for auction.” Her shrug was apologetic.

This was like the world’s shittiest gameshow.

I wiped my palms on my jeans. There was only one option. “I choose the auction.”

“Clover. Are you sure?” she asked, incredulous. “If the two of you were still together that would be one thing, but this is… Why do this for him?”

“I can’t let you kill him.”

“But you can,” she said, frowning. “If you’re sold at auction, it’s for your whole life. It’s not a few months, or even a few years. This might be worse than death.”

I felt like I was simultaneously going to throw up and shit myself.

We stood staring at each other for a long moment. She’d been clear about which option she thought I should take, but if I was alive there would always be hope. There was no way I could live with Noah’s death hanging over my head for the rest of my life.

“The auction,” I said more firmly. Maybe I’d get lucky and end up with some old rich guy who couldn’t get it up.

A pained look crossed the woman’s face. “Either you’re a saint, or you’re stupid.”

“I’m no saint.” I straightened my shoulders.

“Is he really worth this? He’s willing to let us sell you to save his own skin.”

---