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Maisy is standing in the front of the room and I only allow myself a split second to look at her. To determine that she’s unharmed. I’ve been in board rooms with a lot of these sharks and if they sense how deep my infatuation with her runs, they’ll circle her all the faster. So I glance away as quickly as possible, but it’s enough to brand the sight of her in pink silk and a terrified expression forever.
Oh, she definitely isn’t here willingly.
“Ah, Jack Lincoln.” Winston Creed’s smile is brittle. “You’ve never accepted an invitation to one of our gatherings. I was surprised when your associate here agreed to pay the membership fee and immediately started throwing around such hefty bids on the new girl.” He runs lecherous eyes over Maisy and I force myself not to stiffen. “There must be something very special about her, men.”
Kirk approaches me from the side. I don’t shift my attention from Creed while Kirk whispers in my ear. “We’re the lead bid as of now. It’s already at two hundred and fifty thousand.” I don’t flinch at the number. I can make that in my sleep. Problem is, so can the other men in this room and they’re old members. They have seniority. I’ll need to pull my dick out to make them go away. These veterans only know one language and it’s aggression. “There are five men in the running, all old enough to be her father.”
I keep my smile in place, but my jaw is about to shatter. “Why don’t we end this now, since you’re all up past your bedtimes? 60 Minutes ended hours ago.” I saunter closer to the front of the room, desperately needing Maisy to be within reaching distance. “A million dollars for the girl. Cash. Do we have a deal or will you bore me further?”
Murmuring starts behind me and I use the guests’ distraction as another chance to look at Maisy. Jesus. She’s so beautiful, she rattles me. Goodness radiates from her every pore. Makes me want to pray, to thank a higher power for creating her, when I haven’t acknowledged my maker in years. I’ve had Kirk send me pictures of Maisy, daily, for the last six months, but film doesn’t do her justice. Doesn’t capture the gentle curve of her mouth, the virtue in her brown eyes, the way she shines.
Her virginal body.
All limber limbed and soft as fuck, swells and valleys in all the right places.
A million dollars would be a bargain.
How is she looking at me?
There’s some curiosity, surprise…and definite resentment. Of course there is. She thinks I’m here to purchase her for sex. She has no way of knowing I’d never make her go through with it. That I’d rather die than fuck her when she isn’t willing.
But I can’t tell her any of that. Not now.
These men need to believe I’m as unscrupulous as they are. Or they’ll be threatened. They want me culpable. To sink as low as them. Or they’ll worry about me ruining their ongoing party. And in a lot of ways, I am unscrupulous. Hard. Demanding. A bastard.
That’s why I watch her from a distance. That’s why I don’t touch.
I smile at her—with teeth—and she sucks in a breath.
“Two million,” a man’s voice calls out behind me. “Haven’t had a virgin since I was in high school.”
“Gosh, Eisenhower must have still been in office,” I grit out, refusing to show my panic. Slowly, I turn on a heel to face my opponent. “How about ten million, you saggy-balled motherfucker? Remember, you’re retired. I’m still raking it in.” I clamp my cigar between my teeth. “I can go all night.”
There’s a long pause.
I can hear Maisy’s whimpering intake of breath behind me. The sound is an icepick through my chest, but I strive to maintain a cocky appearance.
It’s usually not so difficult.
“Do I hear eleven million?” Winston Creed asks behind me, his tone gleeful. “No? Ten million going once, going twice. Sold. I suppose it’s somewhat fitting that our freshest meat goes to the newest member, Jack Lincoln. Congratulations.”
Relief floods me, but I shrug, as if winning Maisy is no big deal. I turn around and meet her dazed eyes, wishing I knew how to be reassuring. She needs it, the poor girl. She’s trembling, for godsakes, her knees knocking together. At least I know I can ease her worries by getting her the hell out of here. Home where she belongs.
Feeling completely inept, I hold my hand out to her. “Come on, angel,” I say hoarsely. “You’re done here.”
“No, she’s not. Neither of you are,” Winston Creed croons, already guiding the next girl to the front of the room. “Perhaps you should have read the membership agreement before joining, Mr. Lincoln. The highest bid of the night is consummated in the viewing area.” His lips bend into a smile. “Where we can all watch.”
