Page 57 of Saved By My Buyers

I swear the oxygen leaves my lungs as I hear that, and Bee looks equally horrified. There’s no way she’s having her first time having sex with a stranger. I have so many questions for her, things she may not owe me the answers to. Gareth hurt her, raped her from my understanding of her text, however she wouldn’t lie about something like this.

There are many ways to rip away someone’s innocence.

Bee’s finger jabs at the bid button as she leans over the tablet, looking panicked.

“What if we don’t win?” she asks, eyes wide and brimming with emotion. Bee is trying hard not to cry so she can watch the screen, gasping when the bid status remains red after each increase.

The amount being bid long crossed over a million dollars, but neither of us can bother worrying about it.

I meant it when I told her that I didn’t care about the money. My income is a means for me to be able to take care of the people important to me, ensure they have what they need, and donate to others when the opportunity arises.

I’ve been anonymously sending money to mental health nonprofits over the last few years, knowing they hold a soft place in Bee’s heart. She continues to struggle with how she didn’t realize the kind of terrible person her father is.

“Again,” I mutter when the thirty second timer appears at the top of the screen. My heart is starting to pound as my eyes ping pong between the tablet and the woman standing on the stage.

The emcee begins the countdown as Bee hits the button in quick succession, watching for the green light that shows she’s winning. His voice grates on my fried nerves, the blood threatening to pound in my ears.

I can’t show weakness or break while Bee’s harsh breaths pant out as she bids. Leaning forward, I rub her back, unfortunately startling her. I thought my nerves were bad? Bee’s are unraveling from the stress, the woman of our dreams possibly slipping from our fingers a very real reality.

“You’re doing so good,” I whisper. “She’s not going to get away. I’d give away my entire fortune to have the chance to just speak to her. Come on, Bee. Hang in there.”

Shuddering, she nods as she watches for signs that the bid isn’t winning before she increases it even more. Since the bids have crossed over a million dollars, bids now will rise in five hundred thousand increments.

We are at two million dollars now, and all I care about is a chance to speak to Dahlia. The reasons for why we are sitting here have greatly changed, and Bee gasps as she hits the bid button consistently as the last seconds tick by.

Green. The winning bid goes to us, and Bee sags in relief. Three million dollars is how much the final bid was. Pulling Bee against me, I kiss her temple. Her skin is clammy from the stress.

“We won,” I breathe. “I know tonight isn’t going the way we thought it would…”

“It’s going better,” she sighs. “I just want to see her, talk to her… Jack, Dahlia looks so thin!”

“I know,” I grunt. “Who the fuck knows what she’s been going through. I feel like a dick for insisting that she’d find us. Now, I’m wondering if I was going about this all the wrong way…”

Dahlia can put me through whatever hell she’d like. I’ll take it all to be able to make this right. I promised to always protect her, even from herself.

Bronwyn

My head feels light as I stand, and Jack’s strong arm wraps around my waist to steady me. I’m sure people think I’ve had too much to drink, but I haven’t even had a sip of alcohol. It was sheer torture to sit through the rest of the merchant lots.

I white-knuckled my way through it, my body begging for me to move.

“Time to get our girl,” Jack murmurs under his breath, scooping up my coat. My ankles seem intent to roll as I walk in my heels. I’ve never had trouble in these shoes, and now suddenly my damn legs don’t want to work.

Blowing out a breath, I strengthen my ankles, because Jack will pick me up otherwise. I don’t really want to be carried when I see Dahlia again. I already have so much to talk to her about, apologize.

I should have pushed more four years ago.

“Shhh,” Jack whispers in my ear as I swipe away my tears as we walk. “We can do this.”

The payment immediately went through on our end for tonight with a single swipe of Jack’s finger on the tablet. I should feel ill at the amount he paid, and if it was anyone else, I might.

However, it’s the girl who got away. The one whose caramel brown eyes I still dream about. I imagine I hear her voice on the phone too. I got another call two weeks ago from a girl that sounded like Dahlia. It was the same one who called before her shift months ago the first time.

She sounded defeated and beaten. Exhausted and tired. Was that really Dahlia?

A handler from the club is waiting for us at the end of the aisle, and she smiles as she shows us the tablet in her hand.

“Congratulations on your winning bid,” she says. “The funds have been accepted by the club, but I need you to read and sign this contract agreeing to the terms of your agreement with us. You’ll have the full weekend with the merchandise, but will be responsible for returning her to the club by midnight on Sunday.”

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