Page 36 of Shared By the Highest Bidder

He works out every morning for an hour.

I pinch my thick waist. What must he think of me?

“I don’t eat that early, but I’ll have coffee with you.”

“That works.”

He motions for me to pass through the massive entry foyer.

“Kitchen, living room. My office is behind the media room. Up those stairs are the bedrooms. Each is an ensuite. You’ll have your own bathroom and a walk-in closet.” He brings my two suitcases up a curved set of marble stairs and on a glossy parquet floor, he wheels them to my room. “This was all you had? How long were you here in New York?”

“A year. I started designing my own line because it’s hard to find nice clothes in my size. I wore a lot of the same outfits over and over. Mixed and matched things to not look repetitive.”

Ford’s eyes flutter. “Fuck, you’re so strong and brave.”

“Please get Michael to tell you where my designs are. Don’t hate him.” I lay my hand on his chest and worry despising my ex might compromise his defense.

And I’ll never see my designs again.

“I already hate him,” he sputters and then covers his mouth. “You didn’t hear that. I’m not allowed to have those feelings.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Good girl,” he whispers. “God, you look tired.Tonight must have been exhausting.”

“It was.” The knot in my stomach eases.

It’s freeing that I don’t have to pretend with Ford.

“Obviously, I had no idea what you arranged for me. I thought I’d be on my back getting railed right now.”

“You blush adorably. But it sounds like you’re not that disappointed.”

Our eyes lock, and I wonder if I offered myself to him, would he make love to me—fuck the stress and exhaustion right out of me?

I’d love to feel a man likehiminside me. Vibrators only go so far. And batteries seem to run out at the worst times.

“I admit, when I saw Emery bidding on me, I got excited.”

“He is handsome. And he’s a good man. He’s got a daughter who just started Yale.”

That news hits me in several ways. I feel more secure with Emery knowing he has a daughter.

“Wow.”

“But...” Ford clears his throat. “Like most rich, powerful men, he has a wicked side he shows to the women he buys. I don’t want you to go through that.”

That’s why he told Emery not to touch me.

Why does the thought of rough sex from a wicked billionaire make my blood pulse hot in my throat? Maybe because it’s temporary.

This is all a fantasy. Being swept up like this and paraded to galas in designer gowns, getting to live in a beautiful duplex apartment, isn’t real.

“What about Ashton?” Every time I mention his other friend, Ford changes.

Something about him rearranges.

“Ash,” Ford whispers. “He goes by Ash.”

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