Page 35 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

“First of all, the woman stole from me. Second of all, she had to be at least fifteen years younger than me.”

Alana shrugged. “Age is only a number. Love, chemistry, nor attraction, give two figs what someone’s age is.”

Christophe snorted through his own chuckle. “I am more than eight years older than my wife as you know, and we have been happy for thirty years. A few more years wouldn’t change that.”

“Tell me more,” Alana interrupted.

So, I told her everything that happened.

“Sounds like Maia,” Alana whispered under her breath and smacked Christophe’s leg with exuberance. “You must come to the auction! I beg of you.”

I groaned again, showing Alana my frustration at her constant request that I attend one of her auctions. “If I attend this one time, will you promise to never, ever, ask me to come to one again?”

Alana smiled slowly without showing her teeth. A devilish cat-that-ate-the-canary type of smile if I’d ever seen one. She knew something and wasn’t sharing.

“Of course,mon cher. I promise to never ask again.” She sipped on her wine nonchalantly.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just signed my death warrant?” I asked Christophe.

He grinned. “Have a little faith, Rhodes. Who knows, you might find exactly who you’ve been looking for at the auction tomorrow.”

“I doubt it.” I puffed on my cigar and stared out at the view.

The only person I wanted to see again was a sexy, sticky-fingered brunette, who was long gone by now.

Episode 14

It’s Showtime

MAIA

“Sign here, and here,” Alana’s new assistant instructed. I focused on the pearlescent paint she had on her nails. It shimmered like the scales of a fish under the bright office lights.

I scribbled something illegible where she pointed. No one would be able to prove that was my signature. I signed everything differently so no two were alike.

Jade pursed her lips in a manner that reminded me of Alana herself, but not quite as polished. Upon my arrival, she’d scrutinized my worn jeans and beat-up Doc Martens with disdain. Something the Madam never did. She always treated me with respect and kindness. I’d even dressed to impress by wearing my prettiest top, too. It was purple and had a little ruffle at the hem. My biker friend/landlord had bought it for me as a birthday gift this past year when I turned twenty-three. I’d wear it most often when interviewing for jobs that paid in cash. Since this was kind of a job interview, at least that was the way I chose to think about it, I’d dressed to impress.

“How do you know the Madam?” Jade asked in that cool, richy-rich tone that was almost off-putting, but not quite rude.

“What did she tell you?” I always answered a question I didn’t want to answer with a question. People easily gotconfused, changed the subject, or they’d answer and then I could shift the conversation to something else.

“Not very much, I’m afraid.”

That confirmed what I thought.

Madam Alana and I had an odd relationship. I often saw her as a fairy-godmother type. Over the years she’d often slipped me gift cards for restaurants or grocery stores to ensure I was eating properly. One time she gave me a prepaid cell phone and told me to come visit her when the credits were gone so she could add more to it. Her rationale was that a young woman like me should never be without a phone for safety reasons. And it made a lot of sense, so I made sure to add credits whenever I was low. I also texted with her every week or two. It was nice having someone beyond Sam, my best friend/landlord, who cared about my well-being.

I shrugged and let the silence between Jade and me grow. Another trick from the street. Silence, especially while standing or looking at a person directly in the face, freaked people out.

Jade seemed immune to that trick, staring me down like a pro in a blinking competition.

Surprisingly, I caved first. “Where is the Madam?” I asked.

“She’s in a meeting but will be out shortly.” Jade crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. “Are you related to her?” she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

I frowned. “Do I look like I’m related to her?” I countered.

Jade’s gaze ran up and down my form. “Not really.”

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