The Auction: A Dark Romance: Chapter 3

It’s a busy night at Cheeks. I’ve not stopped moving since I stepped on the floor. As soon as one table clears, more men fill it.

‘Blakely, Snake wants to see you,’ Cindy informs me.

I glance toward the front door. ‘Why?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Ugh! What does Savannah want now,’ she whines, running off.

I roll my eyes. Since Cindy called off the previous night, Savannah’s been all over her. I’m glad I’ve never done anything to get on her bad side.

I push through the crowd and step into the small corridor the club uses to charge the cover fee. Snake, one of the newer security guys, grasps my elbow and leads me outside.

‘What’s going on?’ I question, and the muggy night air hits my skin.

He leans down and says, ‘Don’t worry, Savannah approved.’

‘Approved what?’

‘For you to talk to my friend. He’s an agent and heard you sing at the Lizard Lounge.’

Shock and excitement fill me. ‘Really?’

He chuckles. ‘Yep. But he doesn’t want to talk inside. He’d rather speak with you out here.’

‘Okay. But… I should change!’ I fret, glancing down at my leather thong and blingy black bra.

‘Nah, you’re fine,’ Snake says and guides me around the corner, and I freeze.

Baldy and Salt-and-Pepper from the other night stand outside of their SUV.

‘What the hell!’ I exclaim, trying to get out of Snake’s grasp, but it’s too tight.

Baldy opens the back door, Salt-and-Pepper reaches for my other arm, and before I know it, they shove me into the backseat.

I scream, but no one’s around. Within seconds, Baldy’s next to me, and the SUV takes off. Baldy puts a silk scarf around my eyes and more panic fills me.

‘Let me go!’ I yell. My heart races and I attempt to hit him, but he pins my wrists to my lap.

‘Stop it!’ he commands.

My hands flail in the air.

He grabs the scarf off my eyes and winds it around my wrists.

He mutters, ‘You need to plan better next time, Roy.’

‘What did I do wrong now?’ the man now known as Roy grumbles.

‘Tape would be better. Like an entire roll,’ Baldy states.

I scoot to the other side and reach for the door handle, but it won’t budge.

‘Child lock. There’s no point hurting yourself,’ Baldy announces.

My insides and voice quiver, ‘Wh-what do you want from me?’

Baldy’s eyes travel down my body, and I cringe. He locks his lewd gaze on mine and replies, ‘Daddy isn’t going to like this outfit of yours.’

I attempt to open the door again, but Baldy just laughs.

There’s a loud pop, and the SUV veers to the curb.

‘Fuck!’ Roy cries out.

‘What was that?’ Baldy asks.

The SUV stops. Roy opens the door, gets out, then goes around the hood. He curses again.

Baldy knocks on the window and Roy opens the passenger door, saying, ‘Flat.’

I try to follow Baldy, but he shuts the door too fast.

I try to free my hands, but the silk is tight around my skin. I stare out the front window. Badly and Roy are assessing the damage.

Baldy walks to the trunk, pops it open, then opens a floorboard. He pulls a tire out and carries it to the front.

I glance around the vehicle, trying to find something sharp, but I don’t see anything.

I gaze down at my feet and then get an idea. I put my wrists as close to the floor as possible, then lift my legs between my arms, pushing my stiletto heel on the silk fabric, hoping I don’t slice my hand.

It takes a few moments, but it finally cuts through the material. My pulse increases, and I debate about going through the driver’s door or trunk.

I finally decide that the trunk is the easiest. I take off my shoes and hold them by the ankle straps. There’s no way I can run in them.

I wait for both men to bend down and then I slide over the seat, taking my shoes with me. I step onto the blacktop.

‘She’s out!’ Roy yells.

I take off, running across the street, unsure where I am or where I’m going. I turn the corner and slide past groups of people out for the night. Several of them yell at me, but I don’t stop.

‘Get back here!’ Baldy orders.

I turn another corner, run past a valet stand, and then up to a bouncer-looking man. There’s a red rope in front of the door.

‘You here for the auction?’ he asks.

I have no clue what he’s talking about, but I’m not about to ask. I reply, ‘Yes.’

‘You’re late,’ he states.

‘Sorry.’ I glance behind me. Baldy and Roy are fifty feet away.

The bouncer lifts the red rope and opens the door, motioning for me to go past. He shouts, ‘Maureen. The last girl is here.’

I slide inside, and a sign states A woman with fire-red hair grabs my arm and tugs me through a hallway, claiming, ‘You don’t have a lot of time.’

I say nothing, following her, my heart still pounding and hoping the Members Only statement on the sign is true. Surely Baldy and Roy aren’t part of this club?

Maureen leads me down several dark hallways until we get to the end. She opens the door on the right. A dozen women wear risqué outfits. Excited chatter fills the room, and Maureen points to another woman holding a clipboard. Maureen states, ‘The last one showed up.’

The woman looks at the list and asks, ‘What’s your name, darling?’

‘Blakely Fox.’

She peers closer at the paper, then states, ‘You aren’t on the list.’

Panic hits me. I don’t know what this list is, but I can’t go back outside. I blurt out, ‘Is that an issue?’

She glances at me, then shakes her head. She writes it in and adds, ‘Must be your lucky night. Number twelve hasn’t shown up. You can take her spot.’

‘Great,’ I reply.

Maureen leaves, and the woman asks, ‘Is there anything you’re not willing to do?’

My stomach flips.

‘Can you expand on your question?’ I inquire.

She eyes me over. ‘Are you unclear on the charity auction specifics?’

I lift my chin. ‘Yes. Could you review them with me, please?’

She assesses me again, then answers, ‘Whatever Dom bids the highest, wins. He’ll supply your secret living arrangements for a month. Assuming you agree to their contract.’

Her voice drops. ‘Honey, you look like you have more questions than before I spoke.’

I clear my throat. ‘Sorry. I’m… I’m new to this.’

She smiles and nods. ‘Yes, they all are. That’s the point. You don’t bring any bad habits the Doms have to correct for their tastes.’

She steps closer. ‘Have you chosen your charity?’

‘My charity?’ I utter.

‘Yes. The Dom writes a check for the amount he bids to whatever charity you direct.’

A bleached-blonde woman cuts in, ‘It’s how this isn’t prostitution. It’s for a good cause.’

‘You get to negotiate though. So contracts are only signed after all parties agree to the terms. If you can’t agree, then you’re still free to go after the auction is over,’ the blonde adds.

‘Number one, you’re up,’ a man calls out.

A brunette wearing a white, barely there lace teddy and silver collar steps through the curtain. The room erupts in cheers, and an auctioneer states over a microphone, ‘Linda’s ready to allow her Dom to get dirty. She’s open to all activities, including multiple partners of either sex, public humiliation, and being recorded.’

The bidding starts, and the woman with the clipboard nudges me and orders, ‘Put your shoes on.’

I glance at my stilettos and realize I’m still gripping them for dear life. I relax my fingers and step into them.

‘Wait until you see the shoes these Doms buy their subs,’ she states.

I continue processing all the information. My inner voice tells me to leave, but then it screams that anything a Dom wants to do to me isn’t as scary as having to go back and live under my father’s control.

Plus, I get to negotiate. It buys me time, and I can figure out my next steps after I don’t sign whatever contract this bidder puts in front of me.

The girls get bid on one by one until the auctioneer states, ‘And now we have number twelve, Ms. Blakely Fox.’

I freeze, staring at the auctioneer and the lights, which remind me of the Lizard Lounge.

The woman with the clipboard pushes me, and I step forward. Cheers fill the air, and the auctioneer says, ‘Ms. Blakely Fox prefers to keep her desires secret between her and her Dom. As she just reiterated to us, she’s new to the lifestyle. Do I hear a hundred thousand?’

The bids are shouted throughout the room, and it gets to over a million dollars.

I gape, unable to see any faces, wondering why these men are so eager to toss their money to a charity when they don’t even know which one I’d pick.

‘Sidebar,’ a voice calls out. It sounds familiar, and something deep in my core aches. Yet I still can’t see any faces.

The room turns silent. Several men whisper off to the side and then approach the auctioneer. He tells him something, and the auctioneer turns toward me. ‘It seems you’ve grabbed one of our most sought-after Dom’s attention.’

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What would I say anyway? I’m still confused about what’s happening and how I’m even in this auction.

The woman with the clipboard steps next to me. Her eyes light up with excitement. She slings her arm around my waist and ushers me behind the curtain.

‘What’s happening?’ I ask, my stomach dancing with nerves.

‘Oh, this is so good,’ she whispers, then guides me to a private room.

‘What’s going on?’ I inquire.

The auctioneer comes into the room and states, ‘The Dom who bid on you wants a longer contract.’

‘I’m…I’m sorry?’ I ask.

He announces, ‘He doesn’t want a month. He wants a year. The same provisions exist. He’ll house you in secret where he sees fit and pay for all your living needs while you’re under his care.’

Shock continues to ripple through me.

The auctioneer continues, ‘He said to tell you that he’ll allow you to pursue whatever your passion is during your time with him.’

I swallow hard. ‘My passion?’

‘Maybe you call it a hobby?’ the woman suggests.

I square my shoulders. ‘Who is this man? Why isn’t he here with us?’

The auctioneer smiles. ‘He’s very private. If you are open to a year, he will have you blindfolded, escorted out of the private exit, and taken to his house several cities over. Once you are there, you can discuss the contract terms and negotiate. Our driver will stay. He will bring you back to the club if you opt out of the deal.’

‘You should say yes. He’s our most sought-after Dom, but he’s extremely picky when it comes to his subs,’ the woman chirps.

I’m still ignorant about this Dom and sub talk, but it seems like my only option. Once I get out of L.A., I’ll decide where to go next.

‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance,’ the auctioneer claims.

I turn toward the woman. ‘He’s safe? This Dom?’

She nods. ‘Yes.’

I don’t know why I trust her. She’s a complete stranger, but my gut says she wouldn’t lie to me.

I add, ‘And I can tell him no and leave if I don’t like the contract?’

‘Yes. We will provide transportation back here,’ she reiterates.

I take a deep breath, then make a decision. ‘Okay. I’ll go and listen to his terms.’

She claps her hands and then leans into my ear, whispering, ‘I can’t wait to see you back here with him.’

Once again, I’m clueless about what she’s referring to, but I definitely won’t be returning. Everyone’s treated me well here, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t my scene.

Plus, I can’t live with a stranger for a month and definitely not a year. Especially one who wants me to sleep with him.

Nope. I’ll hitch a ride to wherever this secret hideaway is, then go on my way.

The auctioneer pulls a black satin scarf out of his pocket, and I have a flashback of less than a few hours ago.

I wince, asking, ‘Why do I need the blindfold?’

‘Like I said, the Dom is extremely private. He doesn’t allow anyone at his house. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s allowing you,’ the auctioneer claims.

My stomach flips again, but I allow him to blindfold me.

I’m led to an SUV. I know because I have to step up to get into the back seat. The door shuts, and the sound of the engine starting fills my ears.

I spend the long ride tugging on my fingers or tapping my thigh, trying not to freak out. When the car finally stops, the driver says, ‘We’re here.’

I wait, and he opens my door, reaches in for me, and leads me over a driveway and into a house.

A man orders, ‘You’ll wait outside.’

Goose bumps break out on my skin.

The sound of the front door shutting hits my ears. The man steps forward and a woody-spicy scent laced with orange peels flares in my nostrils. My skin prickles with electricity. There’s only one man who’s ever smelled like that.

His hot breath hits my ear, and I shudder as his tongue touches my lobe. He purrs, ‘Blakely, it’s been a long time.’

I gasp, holding my breath, my insides quivering with too many emotions.

For years, I’ve thought of him. I’ve wondered what he’s doing, what it would be like to be with him, and if he remembered me.

He removes the blindfold, and my mouth turns dry.

I whisper, ‘Riggs.’

His dirty-blond surfer locks are exactly how I remember, with one side curling close to his crystal-clear blue eyes. He’s more filled out than I recall. He must have removed his suit jacket because the white designer shirt strains against his pecs. Several buttons are undone, and his cuffs are rolled to the middle of his thick forearms, displaying his arm sleeve tattoos I never knew existed. Thinking back, he always wore buttoned-up, long-sleeve shirts like my father and his friends. I gape at the inked artwork, sprawling across him. And it all makes him sexier than I remember.

‘Sit down, Blakely,’ he orders.

A new fear hits me as I get over my shock of seeing him. I beg, ‘Don’t take me to my father.’

His lips twitch, and he claims, ‘It’ll be a cold day in Hell when I turn you over to Hugh Gallow.’

His statement doesn’t make any sense. My father and Riggs have always been tight. I’ve never seen him have anything but respect for my father, yet now, all I see is disgust in Riggs’s expression. So my gut says he isn’t lying.

‘Sit down,’ he repeats, pointing to a chair.

I obey, unsure what else to do.

He sits next to me, and his scent teases my nostrils. I barely notice the stack of papers until he slides them toward me and demands, ‘You have to sign if you want to stay with me. And there’s only one way this goes, Blakely, and that’s my way.’

My butterflies flutter so strong I put my hand on my stomach. I glance between him and the contract, then swallow hard. I inquire, ‘What does that mean?’

He doesn’t hesitate, answering, ‘It means for a year, I own you. Your body. At times, your mind. And all the breaths you take.’

A shiver runs down my spine. I wonder if this is a dream. Riggs Madden has haunted enough of them ever since I turned eighteen.

He drags his knuckles over my cheek, studying me.

I close my eyes, trembling, trying to decipher what he means. I finally ask, ‘What do you want to do to me?’

‘Whatever I feel like at the moment,’ he states in his normal, confident tone.

I lock eyes with him until my gaze drifts to his lips, a tad puffy from all the sea salt only a hardcore surfer would have. They’re the same lips that I couldn’t shake. I even wrote a song about those lips and what it would be like to have them on mine and other parts of my body.

He continues, ‘A year, Blakely. You live here with me. No one knows about this place, not even your father. You only leave when I’m with you and allow you. I’ll take care of you.’ His hand slides between my thighs, and tingles explode in every cell of my body.

My breath turns ragged. I gaze between his hand and mouth, debating if his lips could possibly come near creating the buzz his palm currently is bestowing on me.

He adds, ‘I’ll fulfill all the deep-rooted desires that made you step on that stage tonight.’

‘Wh—’

He puts his fingers over my lips. ‘You want to focus on your music?’

I stay quiet.

‘Answer me,’ he demands. ‘Isn’t that what you love? Or is that no longer your dream?’

I sit straighter, trying to appear confident. ‘Of course it’s still my dream.’

‘Then you can do that here. I’ll never stop you from pursuing your music,’ he claims.

Unsure why his statement surprises me, I question, ‘You won’t?’

‘No. I’m not your father.’ His hand slides higher, and electricity in the air intensifies all around us.

I shift in my seat, pushing my hips toward him, unable to stop myself.

He curls my hair around his fist, then tugs my head back. It’s the same way he did it on my twenty-first birthday. Ever since that moment, I’ve wondered what could have happened had my mother not interrupted us. Riggs had never touched me or been so forward before then. But I knew his loyalties were with my father. At this moment, his actions disintegrate all the questions I want to ask him about what changed, because something has.

His face hovers over mine, challenging me in the same manner as all those years ago, yet now, no one is here to interrupt us. For some unknown reason, he’s no longer worried about me being my father’s daughter, or my age, or whatever it was that stopped him from pursuing me when I was younger. His deep voice rolls through the air as he demands, ‘What’s it going to be, Blakely?’