Sold for $1 to the Hawthorne Brothers

I stumble back instinctively, Lucien’s coat slipping from my shoulders and falling to the pavement with a soft whisper.

A warm flush runs down my spine.

I draw in a slow breath, trying to steady my nerves.

Adrian closes the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. When he reaches the streetlight along the curb, the glow catches his face.

I see the faint frown tugging at his lips as his gaze drops briefly to the coat on the pavement. He looks back at me. “You dropped something.”

His voice is low and even, as if nothing bothers him. But I still can recall the look on his face when he stared at my father. He looked like he wanted to strangle him.

I swallow, glancing down at Lucien’s coat lying between us.

“I—” The words die in my throat when he suddenly leans in. I hold my breath instinctively, shaking on the inside.

But he merely bends, picking it up with one smooth motion. He holds it in his hand for a moment, studying the dark fabric with mild curiosity. His gaze shifts back to me. “You’re trembling.”

Heat crawls up my neck. I wrap my arms around my waist. “It’s cold,” I bite, harder than intended. Something about this man who hasn’t said more than a couple words to me makes me want to defend myself at every turn.

Maybe it’s the fact that he bought me? For a freaking dollar and a single cent?

Adrian’s gaze roams idly over my body, lingering at my sneakers. I press my legs together and push my right foot away, as if to hide them from him. “It’s the only good pair I have,” I say, tilting my chin slightly.

I push my arms around my chest. “I didn’t think I had to wear my best dress to be auctioned off.”

He stares at me for a long minute, his gaze unblinking. I last mere seconds before my cheeks grow hot. I glance away, staring elsewhere. “I’m supposed to go with you,” I mumble.

“Put it on.” He stretches the coat towards me. The command in his voice is quiet and unmistakable. I take the coat slowly, my fingers brushing the sleeve as I pull it around my shoulders again.

Adrian watches me. When I finish, he nods once toward the car across the curb. “Let’s go.”

He turns, walking away without another word. I take a first step, my pulse roaring through my ears. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what they want me for.

What do you do when you buy a person?

I stare at Adrian’s departing figure—his broad shoulders, muscled arms twice my size and his…back. “I bet he works out all the time,” I mutter under my breath without thinking. Or has good genes.

He’s handsome too. The sophisticated kind of handsome that women fall for.

I bet he has his fair pick of partners too. Tall, perfect woman with little fat and curves in all the right places. The 1%.

Me?

I glance down at my baggy tee with a dejected sigh. I unfortunately carried my dead-beat father’s genes. The one I never met.

Unfortunately, my mother didn’t have good instincts when it came to picking her lovers.

I’m neither curvy nor slim. I’m somewhere between needing to lose weight and pretending I don’t care.

My stomach is soft, my hips a little too wide for the kind of dresses the women around Adrian Hawthorne probably wear. I tug Lucien’s coat tighter around myself.

Adrian is already halfway to the car.

With a quiet sigh, I hurry after him.

His eyes narrow slightly when I appear beside him. He spares me a glance before opening the back door.

I peer into it, into the semi-darkness.

And then it hits me, fully. I don’t know where I’m going. Two days ago, I was a senior college student trying to make ends meet.

Now, I’m…

“What do you want with me?” I ask. “I don’t see how useful I can be to you. I don’t have a degree yet, I can barely cook. I—”

I trail off, a loud gasp slipping past my lips as a terrible thought slip into my head. I stare at Adrian in horror. “A sex slave?!” I shriek. “Is that what I am?”

“You—” I point an accusing finger at him. “Your brothers. You bought me to be your sex slave?”

A crease appears between his brows. “What are you talking about?”

Why didn’t I think about it? An underground hall. A human auction, with filthy wealthy people bored out of their minds. “No,” I shake my head vehemently. “If this is some kind of reverse harem, I’m not interested.”

“Get in the car, Alina,” Adrian cuts me off.

“Unless,” he says calmly, “you’d prefer to go back inside and ask your stepfather to buy you back. I’m sure he must’ve gotten the dollar already.”

“That is,” he adds coldly, “if he hasn’t gambled it yet.”

The words hit like a slap.

“Get in,” he repeats, before walking away to the other side.

I drag myself into the car as a limo gathers into my throat. I curl up in a corner, staring through the window as my eyes turn watery.

Not here.

The last thing I want is for Adrian Hawthorne to see my tears.

He’ll probably tell me to get rid of my tear glands. After all, I’m merely a tax write-off.

***

A hand shakes my shoulder repeatedly, ignoring my mumbled protests as I try to bury myself deeper into the warm leather chair.

“Miss? Miss?”

Miss?

I peek out of one eye, fully ready to tell them off—only to see an unfamiliar face staring back at me. I jump back in fright, knocking myself off the backseat and to the floor.

My back takes the brunt of it, pain shooting up my spine.

“F—” I bite my tongue.

“Mr. Hawthorne is waiting for you inside.” I rub my eyes, blinking twice to focus. A man. He’s leaning over the door with a thin frown on his face.

I stare at him, tucking my tongue into my cheek. Who is he? What am I doing here? Who’s Mr. Haw—

Everything comes flooding back again, like a terrible nightmare. The auction. The humiliation bid. Adrian’s mean comment.

Right.

“Do you need some help?” The man asks.

I shake my head, mumbling quietly. “I’m fine.”

He nods, stepping aside. I gingerly get down, clearing my throat as my face turns red in embarrassment. How did I manage to fall asleep in the back of a stranger’s car?

“Mr. Hawthorne is waiting for you inside.”

I notice the tag on his jacket, but he’s already walking away before I can ask questions. I take a deep breath as I turn.

It’s huge.

No. Massive.

The Hawthorne’s mansion looks like something from the front page of the Exclusive magazines my step-father piled up in his office. He always bragged about owning one of the fancy houses one day.

I had no idea where he expected the money to come from.

It’s a fortress with so many windows I go dizzy trying to count them.

“Miss?”

The man turns, waving his hand impatiently. Crap. I break into a jog, heading to him.

“He’s in his office. Follow me,” he says, without preamble.

I try to keep up, walking through the grand foyer…into a living room ten times the size of the shoebox I rented in college and down a hallway.

He stops outside a door.

“He’s expecting you.”

Just like that, I’m left all alone. I take a deep breath and knock once.

“Come in.”

I walk in.

Adrian’s seated behind his desk. He’s ditched his suit jacket, but his shirt is still on. I try to not stare too hard at the sleeves rolled to his upper arms—at the firm biceps that budge as he taps his fingers on his desk.

Or his chest either, with the three top buttons gaping open.

Heavens.

“You’ll live here. With me,” he says. “My brothers will come over from time to time, and might sleep over occasionally.”

I nod.

“As for your sleeping arrangement…” I find myself holding my breath. “We will be sharing the same bedroom.”

I’m sure I heard him wrong. I blink several times. “What?”

His expression doesn’t change. “You heard me.”

My brain struggles to process the words. “You bought me,” I say slowly, “not a roommate.”

Adrian leans back in his chair. “No,” he says. “I bought you. And tonight,” His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

“You’re sleeping in my bed.”