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Chapter Three
Harper was aware of Liam even before she saw him in the crowd. If her mouth hadn’t already been dry and her pulse sky-rocketing—they were now! He was still as gorgeous as ever, still commandeered a room. She swallowed hard. She had to stick to her plan. She had to show no inhibitions whatsoever.
She had to own the stage.
If she didn’t she would most certainly lose everything. And she couldn’t allow that. It didn’t stop her peripheral vision from seeing Liam press his phone to his ear. A frown threatened. Who the hell could he be talking to in the middle of the auction?
Her auction?
She focused on Sheikh Korian. He was ogling her and the whip in her hand. Any hint of a frown dissolved as she secretly smiled. She’d uncovered rumors about his sexual preferences and his fondness for pain. She lifted the handle and struck the stage with a crack.
The sheikh licked his lips. Oh, yes. The whip was definitely doing the trick.
That Liam’s eyes burned into her like a brand didn’t mean anything, she refused to allow it to mean anything. Sheikh Korian might not satisfy her in bed like she was sure Liam would, but the sheikh would satisfy her desire to keep the estate she and her dad had had big dreams about.
Not only would she keep her property with its big and dilapidated home, she’d hopefully restore it to its original glory.
She swayed her hips as she unbuttoned her tasseled shirt, then wrenched it open as she stared at the sheikh in his suit and keffiyeh. Her breasts all but spilled free, the skimpy lace bra barely restraining them.
Sheikh Korian raised his paddle, his hawkish nose prominent above his dark beard. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
For a first bid it was almost obscene. Few would match it. She smiled demurely at him as she fondled the whip’s handle. She had no idea how far she’d go with the Middle Eastern man, she had no idea if she’d even consider having sex with him. But it was somewhat of a general consensus that sex was part of the package, despite a contract saying consent had to be mutual.
The audience muttered and looked at one another. Few could afford to top that bid and she doubted anyone would. She twirled the whip around her like it was an extension to her body, giving a performance that would no doubt impress the sheikh who’d just earned her for the night.
She stopped the motion then slid the thong of the whip up her body and between her breasts even as she distantly heard the auctioneer counting down.
“Going once, going twice—”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
She froze at the commanding voice, and it took everything she had to move her head and eye the bidder who’d just offered a quarter of a million dollars for her. She did a slow blink, her heart thudding dully in ears before becoming a roar.
Liam. His bidding paddle was still in the air, his stare resolute.
She swallowed hard. She wanted to believe it possible that he’d been so captivated by her and their intense encounter a year ago that he wanted more. But she’d known the moment she’d left he would have found some other woman to cozy up with. His foreplay with her would have become nothing but a fleeting memory.
So why had he just bid a small fortune on her? The Black brothers were wealthy, but surely none of them were that wealthy?
She covered her mouth with a shaky hand, her shock turning to outrage. How was she going to save her property now? She’d banked on the sheikh either investing in her future bed and breakfast horse property, or possibly giving her an amazing tip that he was renowned for.
No doubt Liam had spent his savings now on getting the one woman who’d slipped through his fingers.
The auctioneer’s gavel cracked decisively against its sound block. “Sold! To our very own Liam Black.” He cleared his throat and added, “And number sixty-nine, no less.”
