Page 13 of Her Cruel Empire
I feel sick.
The room stretches out in darkness before me like a pit of hell, and I’m thankful the lights are blinding me. There seems to be some disruption at the back of the room, but a minute later, the auction actually starts.
I’m not first, thank God. But they get to me soon enough. Every other woman has been sold off for well under the hundred thousand that was dangled to me as a carrot, so my expectations have dwindled. But even forty grand would help.Anythingwould help.
“Starting bid, gentlemen? Do I hear five thousand?”
A paddle shoots up. Then another. The numbers climb so fast I can barely breathe—twenty-five, thirty, forty thousand. My vision blurs at the edges. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
Think of the money, I tell myself. The money.
A man near the front—gray-haired with dead shark eyes—laughs at something his companion whispers. His paddle rises to indicate fifty thousand, and he’s looking at me like I’m a specimen he’ll enjoy dissecting.
This was insane. I have no reason at all to think whoever takes me home isn’t a damn serial killer. Logan was right, I should never have done this, my naivety is going to get me killed…
I turn, take a step toward the wings. The old woman who pushed me onstage is still standing there, her face like stone as she reads my mind. I could shove past her, though. I know I could…
And then I’d never even have a chance to get the money.
Maisie. I force myself to think of my sister’s face, about Adrian trying to juggle two jobs just like I am, and taking care of everyone. Alicia and Dane, who have started talking about taking on part-time work to contribute…
This is for them. I can survive thirty days ofanythingfor them.
The bids have crept up to sixty grand.
“Seventy-five thousand!” the shark-eyed man calls out, not even using his paddle anymore. His friends cheer him on, and I want to disappear into the floor.
“Do I hear one hundred thousand?” the auctioneer calls.
The room falls quiet. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. Maybe this is it, and I’ll go with the shark and somehow survive it.
A voice cuts through the silence from the back of the room.
“One million dollars.”
The accent is Eastern European, the words crisp and commanding. Every head in the room turns toward the sound, and I strain to see past the blinding stage lights.
A massive figure steps forward from the back of the room. He’s easily six-foot-five, built like a tank, with graying hair and the kind of face that’s seen violence up close. The expensive suit can’t hide the bulk of muscle underneath.
The room has gone dead silent. Even the auctioneer seems stunned.
“One million dollars,” the giant repeats, his voice carrying easily through the space. “In Bitcoin or cash, at your discretion.”
The shark-eyed man’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. His friends are suddenly very interested in their drinks.
“Sold!” The auctioneer’s gavel bangs down so hard it makes me jump.
I try to process what just happened as hands guide me off the stage. My legs are shaking so badly I can barely walk, and these heels feel like torture devices. The giant waits for me at the bottom of the stage steps, his expression blank. He’s already tapped a few times on his phone, and the auctioneer has nodded at him, confirming the transfer.
It’s going to be held in trust for me, they said. They’ll take a commission, of course. And then I’ll get the rest at the end of the thirty days.
Then they hand over my phone to him, the one I left backstage. And Ineedmy phone. I promised to call Adrian and tell him when I was leaving for the “pilot shoot.” I stare up at the man who just bought me, terrified. If I thought the shark-eyed guy was bad, this one is far, far worse. He dwarfs me, even in these stupid heels.
“Come,” he says, and starts walking toward the exit.
I stumble after him, my ankles wobbling dangerously. The heels catch on the carpet and I nearly fall, but somehow manage to keep upright. The giant doesn’t slow down or look back.
“Wait,” I gasp, trying to keep up. “Please! I can’t—these shoes?—”
