Page 17 of Shared By the Highest Bidder

The barista handing over our drinks eyes me strangely.

“For what?” Zara adds more sugar to hers at the counter.

“Drugs.” I take a sip of my coffee, and it’s perfect. “He was selling them.”

“Shit. Oh my God, and you were living with him,” she cries out. “Did they arrest you, too?”

“No. But I got kicked out of the apartment because I’m not on the lease.” We take a seat, and I add, “It gets worse. He stole my designs. The laptop. The portfolio I worked on.”

“Oh no!” All those pretty dresses. How? When did he steal them?”

“That weekend we spent at the beach,” I admit softly.

“Oh no!" Zara’s face falls. “I’m so sorry.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I left them there. It’s my fault for trusting the bastard.”

“Damn. What are you going to do?”

“I have to hire him an expensive attorney. If he gets out, he’ll give themback to me.”

“Ifhe gets out? That’s nuts!”

“I don’t have a choice.” I dump my head in my hands.

“Do you have money for an expensive New York City defense attorney?” The way she spells it out suggests she knows how much they cost.

“I don’t. Which is why I’m glad we’re talking.”

Zara pales a few shades. “Honey, I don’t have that kind of money.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t going to ask you. The lawyer suggested another way for me to get the money.”

“Please tell me he’s not suggesting you take out a loan?”

“Not exactly.” Only, I wonder if that’s even an option. Except, I have no collateral. “Have you heard of Club Dare?”

She blinks a few times. “No. Wait...”

“They hold auctions.”

“Auctions for what?”

“This.” I point to my body. “Men buy women for a month.”

She leans in, wide-eyed with a smirk on her lips. “What do you mean...buy?”

“Maybe rent is the more correct term since they don’t keep the women.” As these words fall off my lips, there’s a small pang in my heart at the idea of a man who’d go to so much trouble to be with one woman just to let her go.

Do any of the men make their arrangements permanent?”

“And then do what with them?” Zara presses on.

My response is an eyebrow cocked at her, as I sip my latte.

“Ah.” She nods. “What kind of menbuywomen? Rent them, whatever.”

“Men like the lawyer who suggested it, I guess.”

---