Page 3 of Corrupted


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The bidding starts as I walk along the stage, the bright lights overhead warming my barely clad body. While this isn’t my finest moment, no one is holding a gun to my head. I’m here on my own accord, fixing a problem the best way I know how, thanks to Jennie Sanders’ little nudge. She’s a friend, a model, a rich socialite who loves it up here on stage, even though she has access to her trust fund, as well as her own earnings, and can pay for her own adventures. Me, well, I’m on a ridiculous allowance. I’m heavily involved in my father’s charity work, but would rather earn my pay by being a contributing member to one of his businesses. If I was, I bet I could get them back in the black in ways that don’t involve near nudity.

Someone in the crowd bids a million dollars, and a small thrill trickles down my spine. Who the heck would pay a million dollars for my companionship? When it comes right down to it, I’m a nobody. Another man raises it to two, and I push my hair back and smile, urging them on. It works, because soon enough many voices are chiming in. I prance around the stage and give an extra little shake to my hips. Excitement needles through me, and I catch a rush of breath as the energy in the room vibrates along my skin. Only problem is, I’m beginning to wonder what’s really going on with me. Is this all about raising money, or am I prancing for other reasons?

I hate to admit it, but Jennie was right. She told me the second I walked onto the stage I’d enjoy it. Normally I’m not one to flutter under a man’s gaze, and I don’t seek out validation for my personal appearances, but it’s oddly titillating to be the object of so much attention. I almost snort. The last time I was the sole focus of any guy’s anything, I stabbed him in the back. I hate myself for it. I really do. But when I heard all the horrible things he said about me—Londyn is nothing but a silly joke—I stopped fighting my father and let him pursue stolen ideas that nearly destroyed the guy I was in love with. I should have been the better person, and while I never stopped caring for Cason Harrison, I learned a valuable lesson in trust—mainly, who to let in and who not to.

Someone in the back of the room, with a deep husky voice that slides down my back and awakens some dormant part of me without warning, ups the ante, and I peer out. Who just bid three million dollars on me, and what is it about his muffled voice that intrigues me? Dammit, I wish they’d dim the lights up here so I could see who’s outbidding everyone else. A man near the front, his voice deep, scratchy and gruff, a side effect from years of smoking, increases it to three and a half million, and I nearly falter in my too-high heels. The money will go a long way in helping my father regain control over his businesses. More important, it will stop him from trying to marry me off.

At least this is all aboveboard, and really, providing companionship to a lonely man isn’t the worst thing in the world. Still, my father might not be proud of the way I’m getting paid, but it will show him I’m a girl who will do what it takes to succeed—within reason of course. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with the guy who wins me. This is about friendship, and sort of reminds me of the app Cason created back at Penn State.

But I don’t want to think about him. Every time I do it creates a huge knot in my stomach. I push him to the recesses of my mind as the gentleman at the back of the club bids fiercely. Slow whispers go around the room and chairs scrape the floor as everyone turns to see exactly who is refusing to be outbid. I hate that I can’t see.

With the audience distracted, the announcer steps up to me and lowers his microphone, his words for me only. “You’ll have to come back, Desiree. You’re causing quite a disturbance out there.”

“Probably because I’m new,” I say.

“Maybe, maybe not, but Mr. Laurent’s guest sure is hell-bent on winning you.”

“Mr. Laurent as in the famous designer Luis Laurent?” I ask, blinking rapidly. Good God, am I really in the presence of one of my idols?

His smile is big and toothy. “The one and only.”

I narrow my eyes and strain to see into the crowd. “Who is his guest?”

“A new member. First time here, actually. Perhaps you know him. His name is Mr.—” he begins, but stops when a loud voice gains our attention.

“Five million,” the man at the back of the room says flatly.

A hush falls over the crowd, signaling the end of the bidding. I have no idea who just bought me, all I know is his voice is low and sexy, filling me with deliciously dirty images of him taking me up against the wall while doing depraved, corrupt things to my body.

Whoa, what the heck is the matter with me?

I turn to the announcer, and work not to sound breathless. “This is all safe, right?”

“You’re in charge, Desiree,” he assures me with a pat on the arm. “The power is in your hands. If anyone so much as lays an unwelcome finger on you, or even looks at you the wrong way when you leave here, they’ll be banned from the club. Don’t worry, everyone knows the rules and I’m quite certain you’re about to have a couple luxurious weeks in the hands of your host.”

I relax. Two weeks of luxury. Wouldn’t that be nice. Heck, I haven’t had a luxurious anything in far too long. I’ve been too busy trying to prove myself capable, and applying for fashion jobs. If only Mr. Luis Laurent had bid on me. To be in his brilliance would be a dream come true. I could pick his brain about the industry and learn so much.

Then again, who’s to say his guest isn’t also in the fashion industry. A fresh wave of hope pushes back those last remnants of worry, and I suddenly can’t wait to meet my new companion.

I leave the stage and find Jennie, or rather Chanel, there waiting for me.

“Ohmigod, Londyn. You went for five million dollars. That’s incredible!” She pulls the curtain back slightly and scans the crowd. “Who was that? Do you know? I usually know everyone out there.”

“No idea.” I stand there, still trying to wrap my head around the five million, half of which I receive now, half when the contract is fulfilled in two weeks.

“Well, come on,” Jennie urges. “Let’s get changed and go meet our hosts.”

“Jennie?” I ask as I follow her down the hall to the change room.

“Yeah?” she says as she enters. She takes off her lingerie and slides into a little black cocktail dress.

“Have you ever...”

She plants her hands on her hips and meets my gaze in her makeup mirror. “Slept with my host?” she asks.

I chuckle. God, I am such an easy read. “Yeah.”

“Once,” she says, turning to face me. “He was midthirties, looking for a companion to a fundraising gala. I liked him, and he liked me. It happened on his yacht one night. But you should know, I was the one who made it happen. These guys know better.” Her eyes go wide. “Wait, are you thinking of sleeping with your host?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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