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$5,900,000.
$5,000,000.
$10,000,000.
This cannot be real.
I'm gasping for air as the windows grow darker, and lying sweaty and shaky on the bed, I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’ve sold my virginity. I can’t believe anyone paid $10 million for my hymen.
I'm not sure I can do this.
I'm not worth that much. Maybe after a few rolls in the hay, but not now. I don't know how to do this.
I'm almost in tears as I pull the covers over myself, and Richard strides in. His eyes are wide. “I can’t believe it. No offense, I thought you’d do well, but…” He shakes his head and laughs. “You’re set for life.”
I smile weakly, because if I don't smile, I'm going to start sobbing. “Is it...someone good?”
I mean who won me, and Richard gets it. He hands me a small, white card with the winning bidder’s name printed in gold script. My heart really does stop this time.
Hunter West
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~ELIZABETH~
"I can't do this."
I'm sitting in an black velvet armchair, and Marchant Radcliffe is again standing in front of me. We've moved into a private room, one with no windows of any kind. I’m wearing a black silk robe, and I'm gritting my teeth as I try to come to terms with what just happened.
Marchant shakes his head, looking annoyed. “I've already taken the bid.”
"I didn't say I wanted to back out." I don't want to back out. What I want is to disappear, right down to my ten million dollar atoms.
"Woman, you're giving me whiplash," he drawls. "You just said you couldn't do this."
"I didn't mean to say that,” I say quietly. “I was thinking out loud."
"This is good for you," he tells me. "Real good. You got a price I wouldn't dream of and the bidder is a good guy. That's a Disney ending."
"It is?"
He narrows his eyes a little. "Yes."
I look down at my black robe. So this is what a princess looks like. I rub my eyes. Oh my God. How did this happen?
Marchant is tapping his foot, and I'm reminded that despite his easy charm and good looks, he's a business man—a business man in the people-selling business. He leans forward, tipping my chin up with gentle fingers. "Are we good? C'mon...I want to hear you tell me that you're okay. You feel prepared?"
I nod, although it couldn't be further from the truth. I'm not ready to have 10 million dollar sex with anybody, much less Hunter. The mere thought of seeing him in this position makes my eyes well up with tears again. I blink them back. I'm not going to be a prima donna or a baby about this. At least not when anyone can see.
"Does Hunter come here often?" I don't mean to ask it. The words just fall out of my mouth.
"He comes here to see me. He's an old friend. One of my best." Marchant's eyes are digging into mine, and I get the feeling he’s trying to figure something out. A second passes, and his mouth draws up. He curses angrily and digs a hand through his hair.
"Goddamnit." He looks back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry for the French, but shit. You and him...you've got some sort of history." He says it like 'history' is a curse word.
I shake my head, wondering what it means that Hunter hasn’t told his best friend about me. "I was just curious."
At that, he throws his head back and laughs. And laughs. And laughs. "Just curious. I'll put that down in your file." He takes a step closer, kneeling so we're at eye level. His brown ones look earnest. "You want the money?
