Page 49 of The Auction

The crowd stood up and mingled amongst each other. Waiters came bearing wine and champagne. Kingsley strolled over to him and looked him up and down.

“Your suit,” Kingsley said.

“Yes?”

“It’s an improvement.”

Daniel laughed coldly. “Anya made it. Even paid for it herself.”

“Her way of serving you your own testicles on a platter.”

“Feels like it. I won her, Kingsley. And I lost her. Then I won her again. And I lost her again. I just keep losing. Know any florists still open? I’ll bring her lilies. Two million five hundred and sixty thousand dollars’ worth of lilies. Think that would work?”

“Poor Daniel.” Kingsley clicked his tongue like an obnoxious French hen. “I spent a weekend in Monte Carlo not that long ago. I saw a man who kept losing and losing and losing…but finally he stopped losing. Do you know why he finally stopped losing?”

Daniel shook his head.

Kingsley smiled. “He stopped the playing the game.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Mine, always.”

Kingsley patted his cheek condescendingly and strolled off.

“It’s Mass-ah-CHEW-setts,” Daniel called after him.

“Don’t forget, you’re up next on the block,” Kingsley called back, while Daniel mentally served Kingsley his own testicles on a platter. He hated to admit the Frenchman might have a point. He hated to admit it…so he wouldn’t admit it. Not out loud, anyway.

Intermission ended and the auctioneer took the stage again. The crowd seemed even more excited about the second half of the auction than the first half. Daniel supposed seeing the Underground’s most infamous dominants on display like submissives usually were provided a bit of amusement along with the shock value. Kingsley’s paid doms cultivated an air of mystery and danger about them. Kingsley’s does were not summoned, not for any amount of money. They saw clients at their leisure only. One simply signed up on the waiting list and waited to be summoned. And paid through the nose for the privilege.

Daniel, of course, knew he had no such air of power or mystery. As dominants went he wasn’t particularly noteworthy, at least not in his own mind. If Daniel brought in ten grand on the auction block, he’d be surprised. Not that he cared. He just wanted it over with. He’d already decided to write a check to whomever bought a night with him, for the exact amount they’d paid. That way he’d keep his promise to Kingsley, the charity would get its money, and no one would lose out. Also, most importantly, he wouldn’t have to touch anyone who wasn’t Anya.

The auctioneer introduced him, and with a sigh Daniel stepped forward. Once up there he discovered he could barely see past the blazing candles that decorated the stage. He heard laughter and applause. A woman’s voice, gilded with a distinct Russian accent, proclaimed, “If anyone bids against me, they’re getting a flogging.” Someone set off another round of tittering by helpfully reminding her that in this crowd, that wasn’t much of a threat.

Bidding began at ten thousand dollars and quickly shot up to fifty. Fifty thousand dollars. For him? What madwoman in the crowd would pay fifty thousand dollars for one night with him? Had to be Irina. She had made it very clear she wanted to see him again after their one torrid afternoon together.

At eighty thousand dollars the bidding stalled. Well, that was about ten times as much as he’d expected anyone would bid for him. He should be flattered. Instead he felt nothing but empty, lonely.

“Any other bids?” the auctioneer called out. There was no answer. “Going once…going twice…”

“Two-million, five-hundred and sixty-thousanddollarz,” came a voice from the crowd.

Daniel’s ears perked up.

Dollarz?

With a z?

Anya.

And then Daniel heard the most beautiful word he’d ever heard in his entire life.

“Sold.”

* * *

He racedoff the stage and found Anya waiting for him under the orange tree.

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