Page 9 of Bought and Broken

“Girl I was fucking got too rough,” I say quickly as I make my way down the front steps. Who knows how long he’s been waiting out here for me. Usually he’s the one who’s late, but I had a business call that took too long.

“Too rough for you? Is that possible?” he asks as he pulls the limo door open.

I shrug it off, not wanting to think about the way Devon slashed at my face like Freddy fucking Krueger. She’s lucky she still has all her fingers. If she weren’t my best friend’s sister, she’d have lost the whole fucking hand.

Dane gets into the limo, and I climb in after him. Typically, I prefer driving myself around, but tonight is a special occasion. We’re going to need the extra room for all the fun activities we have planned with the girls we’re going to buy from the auction.

The auction only allows us to get two girls each, but that’s plenty. Four girls total? There’s a lot you can do with that.

When I was first offered a spot as a buyer, I nearly declined. I didn’t want to spend my hard-earned money on something I get for free. Dane was on board right away. We were on a weekend vacation in Florida at one of my resorts. When one of the guests saw me, he mentioned he was a scout for the club and gave us the info. After sleeping on it, I decided why the fuck not? My company has been doing well, and it’s only one night.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Dane asks as he settles into his seat.

“Not sure.”

“I’m going to pick the girls before I see them on stage. This way I know what I’m spending my money on ahead of time and don’t miss out on anything good.”

I guess that’s smart—if you’re making an investment. But we’re blowing money for the fuck of it. I doubt any of these women will be ugly. None of them will give us a boring night. They’re going to be there out of desperation or the need to have fun. Either way, they’ll do whatever we want—I’m sure some will have limits, but out of the four we plan to get, one has to be open to try anything, right? I’d rather not focus on having a plan but leave it to Dane to be all business even on a night when I told him no business is allowed.

“I want to be surprised. I’ll know who I want when I see her.”

“You never like surprises,” Dane comments. He pulls the bottle of bourbon from the chilled bar compartment, and I don’t bother responding. “Widow Jane? Never heard of it.”

He pours a finger into each of two glasses and hands me one before putting the bottle back.

I stare out the window for the rest of the drive, sipping the bourbon as the cut on my cheek burns a phantom pain. She didn’t break skin, but there’s an angry red mark there. Bright enough for people to notice. I’d considered covering it up, but figured it wasn’t worth my time.

The building looks like nothing more than an old abandoned warehouse, but I’m sure inside is top-notch. Places like this don’t skimp on what’s important, and I’m sure keeping their customers and clients comfortable is a priority. They certainly make enough money to do so.

The second the car comes to a stop, I drop my phone into the center console and I’m out the door. I have no interest in men opening doors for me. I’m capable of doing it myself.

I run my hands down my jacket to smooth any wrinkles and button it as I wait for Dane to get out.

“Don’t go far,” I tell my driver, Jacobs.

“Yes, sir.”

Dane and I head toward the entrance, but before we make it to the door, his phone rings, causing me to stop short.

“Shit, I have to take this,” he mutters.

I glare at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. It’s work.”

“You’re not supposed to have your phone on you,” I say through gritted teeth. Did he think they’d let that one slide? He’s not that important. Being the kid of a fashion entrepreneur isn’t much—even when that entrepreneur is Brent Kensington. He’s made a name for himself as one of the leading creators in men’s fashion, nearly tripling the profit of his company in the time he’s had it compared to his father and grandfather before him.

Brent has been sort of a father figure in my life and he’s an impressive man, but his job makes him a lot of money, not necessarily well known. He’s not Brad Pitt.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave it in the limo,” Dane mutters as he steps away from me.

I roll my eyes and head inside. I will not wait for him out here. Dane is my best friend, has been since kindergarten, but some days he annoys the absolute shit out of me. It’s not that he thinks he’s better than anyone else, he’s just constantly thinking about business and nothing else matters. I blame that on Brent, but it’s not even his fault. It’s how his father raised him. How Devon didn’t get wrangled into the family business is beyond me.

I use my key on the elevator, which takes me down once the doors are closed. When they open, I’m pleasantly surprised with what I see. It’s as elegant as I expected. Black furniture. Wood flooring. Sexy decor. It’s exactly the spot you’d expect a bunch of rich fucks to hang out.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the event. May I have your name?” The woman who greets me has dark hair and a practiced smile. I give her my name and she hands me a tablet that I take. “Your information has been programmed in here. You’ll use it for bidding. Feel free to browse the merchandise before heading in.” She winks and gestures to the bar. “And please take advantage of the full bar while you wait. Drinks are complimentary.”

I find a seat at the bar, away from the other groups of people already settled in. Seems most of these people came with friends. I have no interest in talking to any of them, which is why I was grateful for Dane coming with me—so much for that. The last thing I want to do here is make friends.

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