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I let out a breath of relief.
I thought it would just be a simple written exam. Boy, was I wrong. I had to take an IQ test. I had to go through two interviews, one with a shrink. I had to have a comprehensive health exam, too, which took two days.
So yeah, I’m glad I passed.
“What’s next?” I ask her.
Do I get to meet this man who’s supposed to take care of me now?
She places her hands on my arms. “Now you just have to be briefed regarding the rules. You need to sign some papers. And then we’ll prepare you for your auction.”
“Auction?” My eyes grow wide.
“You are a prize, my dear. You have to be earned, fought for.”
“You mean I’ll go to the highest bidder?”
“Exactly.”
I frown. That means I’ll be put on display. I don’t really like the idea of that.
“Sixty percent of the amount will be deposited into your bank account,” Ms. Sinclair tells me. “And it will be yours to use as you wish once you have proven yourself valuable.”
She means fourteen months after I’ve given birth. But at least I’ll get it eventually.
“How much are we talking about?” I ask curiously.
She shrugs. “A minimum of three hundred thousand dollars.”
I let out a deep breath. Wow. And that’s the minimum?
“This is a good thing, Leah.” Ms. Sinclair takes my hands in hers. “You will be an investment, so you will truly be taken care of. Besides, an auction means you will end up with the man who wants you the most, the man determined to give you everything you need.”
I guess so. But I still don’t like the idea of being put on display.
“I’m not going to be naked, am I?” I ask.
She chuckles. “No. Your body will be for the winner’s eyes only.”
Her words give me a bit of relief. At the same time, though, a tiny shiver of excitement goes up my spine.
Your body will be for the winner’s eyes only.
“This is your last chance to back out,” Ms. Sinclair tells me. “Are you doing this or not, Leah?”
I draw a deep breath. So what if I’m going to be put up for auction? Like Ms. Sinclair said, it’s a good thing. And it doesn’t change all the other good things that I’ve already decided I want.
“I’m in, Ms. Sinclair,” I answer.
She beams. “Please call me Fiona.”
To my surprise, she wraps her arms around me. I give her only a slight pat on the back because I’m afraid I might wrinkle her perfect jacket.
When she pulls away, she seems like a different person. Gone is that stern, all-business expression. Instead, her warm smile makes me feel like I’ve just made a new friend.
“Welcome to Ambrosia.”
Chapter Four
Gavin
You are cordially invited for a parting of the heavens.
I tap my fingers on my desk as I stare at the invitation from Ambrosia on the screen of my laptop.
Another auction, huh?
One of my father’s friends invited me to Ambrosia after he died. I joined it for the connections. I’ve stayed for the women. Clean. Skilled. Discreet. Classy. Just like the one from that party two months ago. Well, she was a little unrefined- I can only guess she was new- but I enjoyed her just the same.
I try to picture her face as I sit back in my chair. I can still remember those eyes of blue flame and that feeling of being inside her- soft yet tight. I frown at the heat the memory stirs in my veins. I’ve been on so many business trips lately that I haven’t had time to indulge myself in a woman since.
Maybe I should drop by the club to rectify that. Or better yet, get myself another prize so I won’t have to.
A prize. A trophy to boast of, a symbol of wealth and prestige in the club. A pet to obey my every command. More importantly, a woman entirely my own.
Still, I’m not sure, especially not after what happened last time.
A ring on the phone disrupts my thoughts. I pick it up and hear my assistant’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Mr. Scotsfeld, I just want to let you know that the meeting for 10:00 AM tomorrow has been moved to 11:30. Same venue.”
“Does that fit my schedule?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then it’s fine.”
“Also, the flowers are here,” she adds.
“Flowers?” My eyebrows crease.
“Pink hyacinths.”
My eyebrows arch at the mention of Nadine’s favorite flowers. I pull up the calendar on my screen. I normally have the pink hyacinths ordered on Nadine’s birthday so I can give them to her, but that isn’t for a few more weeks.
“Did you order them for today?” I ask. “Because I’m pretty sure you got the date wrong.”
She pauses. I hear clicks of the mouse in the background, then a gasp of dismay.
“Oh, shoot. I got the date right but the flower delivery guy must have gotten it wrong and I forgot to check. I’m so sorry. I’ll send the flowers back and ask for a refund.”
