Page 30 of The Auction

“You don’t need—How about a loan? You can pay me back whenever—ten years, twenty years—”

“Daniel, no.” She shook her head. Slowly she stood up from the ottoman and stood by the cold empty fireplace. “I know you think you’re trying to help me.”

“I am. I just want to help you. Nothing else.”

“It is…veryniceof you.”

Daniel nearly laughed at how long she paused before forcing the word “nice” out.

“But?”

“But I’ve made up my mind. One night with one man and me and my brothers and sisters will all be free. I’ll be able to go home and buy a little house and they can all come live with me. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it, and I won’t regret it.”

Free, she said. He understood though he wished he didn’t. She wanted to be free. If she took the money from him, she’d be beholden to him.

“It’s not the same, just being watched while you make yourself come and actually really doing kink with somebody. It’s night and day. It’ll be someone else touching you and you might not like how they—”

“Stop. Please.”

The “please” was soft. He was scaring her. She ought to be scared, he thought. But still…he didn’t want to scare her. So he stopped.

“I’ll only say one more thing—whatever price anyone pays for it, for you, it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Ah, true,” she said with a smile. “But it would be better than nothing.”

He’d tried. There was nothing else to do.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“You will?”

“At Vitale’s?”

She smiled nervously. “Right. Yes. See you then.”

For the third time, he turned to leave. The door was right there, just a few steps away. He’d almost made it when Anya spoke again, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Maybe you can help me?”

He looked at her, her back still to the white fireplace mantel. Her face was pink again.

“You said it’s different, really doing kink with someone? Maybe, you know…we could practice?”

Daniel blinked once.

“Yes,” he said. “I could help you with that.”

He locked the door.

* * *

Anya’s eyes widened.Her amber eyes. Daniel knew all about amber, fossilized tree resin. A famous geologist had left his life’s work to the New York Public Library and it had been Daniel’s job to catalog every page, every piece, including a large chunk of bright clear amber that held inside it a million-year-old butterfly. He’d wanted to free it. Like now. Like he wanted to free Anya, to melt the amber she was trapped inside and watch the beautiful little prisoner spread her wings and fly.

First he would need heat.

Daniel walked over to Anya who backed up so far against the fireplace she almost stepped into the grate. Only an inch separated their bodies.

“Now?” Anya asked, breathless.

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