Page 21 of My Soul for Sale

I walk slowly between Atlas and Ripley as we leave the club. The street lights flicker overhead, casting a dull glow on the pavement. Ripley leads the way toward a black Dodge Ram 2500 parked by the curb. He rounds the truck to the passenger door, opening it for me. I nod my appreciation and climb inside, the cool leather seats feel good against my heated skin.

As I buckle up, I glance over my shoulder to see Atlas getting in the backseat, his tall frame towering in the seat behind me. Our eyes briefly meet, and I flash him a small, awkward smile before turning back around, my cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment.

Ripley slides into the driver's seat and buckles his seatbelt. The engine roars to life as he turns the key, the deep rumble resonating through the cabin. He shifts the truck into gear and pulls out onto the road, navigating through the maze of cars with effortless precision.

I lean back in my seat, feeling the adrenaline of the night still coursing through my veins. Behind me, Atlas sits in silence, his presence looming over me like the Grim Reaper. He hasn’t said a word yet and I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams if he doesn’t say something soon.

I close my eyes briefly and blow out a long breath. The events of tonight went from crazy to insane in a matter of minutes. The auction was supposed to be an easy way to make money. A weekend fucking a stranger, we never speak again, and I buy my house.

Instead, somehow in a crazy turn of events, I end up being purchased by my ex-stepdad and ex-stepbrother. Why were they even at the auction? Shouldn’t Ripley be married again by now and Atlas… I don’t know what he should be doing. But it’s not buying pussy at an auction.

Why would they buy me? I get that it was probably a shock to see me on the stage, but they could have let someone else purchase me. Instead, they spent way too much money and for what?

When they stepped into the dressing room and the first initial shock wore off, I contemplated telling Natalie, ‘No thank you. It was fun, but I’m out of here.’ That would mean no money though, and I want the damn money.

These two are not going to stand in the way of me getting it.

The truck comes to a stop, and Ripley's voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts. "We're here," he says, pulling me back to reality.

Damn, I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't even pay attention to the drive or where we were headed. Blinking, I realize we've arrived at the same house they lived in seven years ago. Stepping out, I grab my bag and follow Ripley up to the door, waiting as he unlocks it and I step into the foyer.

They've done some remodeling, nothing too drastic from what I remember, but the walls and floor are different, and the furniture has been updated—more modern, yet still cozy. It's hard to put into words.

"We should talk," Ripley states as we enter the living room.

I take a seat on the dark forest green couch. "Can I get a beer, please? I think I'm gonna need it," I ask, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead.

“Yeah.” Rip laughs.

“Grab me one too!” Atlas calls as he sits next to me.

Rip disappears into the kitchen and returns with three beers. He pops the tops and hands one to each of us. I take a big gulp, trying to steady my nerves, and wipe my mouth.

"How did you guys know I'd be at the auction?"

Atlas breaks the silence, his voice filled with curiosity. "We didn't. Some random guy at a bar gave Dad the information, and I thought he needed a weekend of fun, so I signed him up and applied as his guest. We had no idea."

"Why were you there, Sloane?" Ripley's question catches me off guard, and I narrow my gaze at him.

"I don't think that's any of your business. I have my reasons," I reply, my voice a little sharper than intended. It's not something I'm ready to share, not yet at least.

Despite the tension in the air, there's a warmth between us, a bond that I thought was long gone. I had feelings for Atlas, but I never acted on them. It’s why it hurt so much when he never tried to contact me after we left. I thought he felt the same way, but turns out I was wrong. And Ripley… well… he’s starred in a few of my private dreams. He’s still sexy as hell and I feel my core heating and my belly filling with butterflies.

This is wrong. He was my stepdad. I have no business thinking thoughts like that about him.

“If you went with the intention of buying someone for a weekend of fun, then why buy me?”

“Once I saw you on that stage, I couldn’t let anyone else have you,” Atlas growls.

I look at him and smile. He’s just as handsome as I remember.

His hair, the color of rich dark chocolate, cut close to his head on the sides but longer on the top, adds a hint of rugged charm to his appearance. Dark, expressive brows frame his piercing eyes. A rugged 5 o'clock shadow graces his strong jawline, muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt, and his arms are almost entirely covered in tattoos.

Our eyes are locked in an intense stare and I swear I can feel my pussy getting wetter by the second.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and turn in for the night,” Ripley interrupts, setting his beer on the coffee table. “You two have a lot to discuss, so I’ll give you some privacy.”

“You can stay, Dad,” Atlas quickly tells him.

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