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“He’s gone. That’s all that matters.”
“Well, I made my offer. Some other lucky bastard can have her.” With the assistance of his cane, he pushes up, then refolds the papers and tucks them back into his coat pocket. He makes to leave but swivels back to me. “Any word on who killed Thomas, by the way? Never did hear if they caught his murderer.”
With my elbow on the armrest, I rub my chin with my thumb and index finger and stare straight ahead. “I haven’t heard anything about who killed him.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Whoever it was must have really hated him, taking him out the way he did.”
“Many people hated Thomas,” I hiss. “You said so yourself, his enemies have come knocking.”
“But I know of only one who’d have the balls to put the hit out on him.”
I shift my gaze to him. “And who is that?”
His response is to laugh, a real belly sort of laugh that has him practically bent over at the waist as he leaves the room.
But I’m too deep in my thoughts to care about what Wes may or may not know. I’m still trying to process the thought of Thomas Cameron’s daughter at Asta.
Imogen Skye with the big gray eyes and the blood of a murderer flowing through her veins.
“Fuck!” I pound a fist against the desk. “Devon!”
He peeks in through the open door. “Sir?”
“Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day.” I grab my coat from the coatrack in the corner and slide it on. “I have important matters to tend to.”
Although I rarely make an appearance at that meat market, I think tonight I’ll have to make an exception.
3
SKYE
The first auction I ever went to was on my eighteenth birthday. Daddy took me so that I could find something rare and unique. Although I went to many more after, that was the one I’ll always remember. The thrill and excitement of trying to outbid everyone else. The disappointment of losing a chance at the antique mother of pearl music box.
I had to settle for something within the budget he set for me, but the experience more than made up for it. It’s what had me going back again and again. There was always this quiet tension in the room, where men spoke with their eyes and body language. They assessed their competition. Were they richer, bolder? How high would they be willing to go?
The auctioneer would begin his fast chant, then the paddles would go up. “I hear ten thousand, do I hear fifteen. I have fifteen, can I get twenty. Twenty thousand, can I get twenty. I hear twenty, can I get twenty-five.”
And so it would go, higher and higher, and my heart rate would increase along with the bid. Who would win the prize?
I never imagined I’d be that prize one day. That I’d be the thing that men would bid on, raising their paddles as the auctioneer performs his chant.
Hell, I never even imagined a place like this existed. Asta. An underground auction house in the heart of Philadelphia, where only the wealthy and discreet get an invite.
“Ten thousand. I hear ten thousand, can I get fifteen?” The auctioneer’s voice can be heard saying through the speakers in the ceiling of the dressing room I’m in. “Fifteen thousand going once, going twice… Sold to buyer number eleven.”
Someone whoops and several of the women nearby applaud. As if it’s a good thing to be sold at an auction. Like a piece of cattle. Worse, a sex slave.
Although, by looking at everyone here, they’re not bothered by it one bit. However, unlike most of the women here getting dressed and pampered, I’m not receiving money or pleasure out of this.
“Champagne?” an Asta staff member asks me. She offers the tray filled with champagne flutes.
I lift my hand and decline politely, only to have another server offer me little caviar sandwiches and yet another, hot wet towels. Like it’s a damned spa.
“How much is your starting bid?” the very handsome and very flamboyant guy getting ready beside me asks. “I’m asking twenty for a week. And I’ll do anything. It’s in my contract.” He turns to me and winks.
“Ten thousand,” I say.
He rears back as if I said something highly offensive. “Ten thousand? Girl, you have to ask for a lot more than that. Do you know what those savages out there will want from you?”
