Page 7 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

“Goodbye, Memphis.” Her goodbye sliced straight through my heart, chopping it in half.

“Goodbye, Naomi.”

Episode 3

A Sign

JACK

“Mr. Larsen, Madam Alana will see you now.” Jade’s voice broke me from my analysis of the budget report I was reviewing for Johansen Brewing. I’d been sitting only a handful of minutes in one of the plush leather chairs outside of Alana’s office, waiting to see her in person.

I exited the report, stood, then tucked my phone into my inside jacket pocket before I buttoned my sports coat.

“Thank you, Jade.” I offered a smile to the petite woman dressed in a smart, tailored black suit. Her hair was pulled into a sleek bun at the base of her nape, making her seem much more severe. Liquid liner that came to a point at the outside of her pretty eyes added to the ferocity of her overall appearance. She actually reminded me a lot of the Madam. Which would make sense as I’d learned on the flight over from Norway that Jade intended to mentor under the Madam for an indeterminate length of time in order to learn the business.

I walked swiftly into the office. Alana sat poised behind a glass desk, her hands clasped together on top of it. She wore a sharp gray suit with a white silk blouse underneath that buttoned all the way up to her neck. Her shiny dark hair was parted down the center and fell flat against the sides of her high cheekbones and over the front of her suit. The locks so glossythey shined a bluish-black against the natural light spearing into the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Las Vegas strip.

She made a gesture with her hand for me to take one of the seats in front of her desk.

I unbuttoned my coat and sat down, sitting up straight as I did so. Something about the Madam in this setting demanded professionalism. Even though we’d broken bread together, attended a wedding, shared friends, and had spoken on the ride over, it seemed all of that familiarity was pushed aside. Here sat the Madam, not just Alana.

Jade took the empty seat next to mine, crossed her legs, and set a tablet on her thigh.

“Mr. Larsen,” Alana greeted. “You requested time with me today. What is it that I can help you with?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, as you know, The Marriage Auction is tomorrow. I was hoping to receive some intel or portfolios on the women who will be participating.”

Alana cocked an eyebrow. “Mr. Larsen, I made it very clear in the information packet you reviewed and the multitude of agreements you have already signed—the bidders and candidates go into the auction knowing very little about each other.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed.

She blinked noncommittally at me but didn’t say a single word.

“You’re serious? We bidders are supposed to spend millions on a bride not knowing anything about her? Or him, depending on one’s preference, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed, but once again, didn’t share anything more.

“I don’t understand. How am I to secure the right woman for me if I don’t know anything other than what she looks like?”I clenched my teeth together, holding back my frustration as I’d hoped this would be a positive conversation. One where the Madam apologized for her lack of preparation, and I left her office with a pamphlet or something more concrete regarding the event and the candidates participating.

“That’s a very good question. It’s incredibly surprising that you waited until the night before the auction to ask it,” she countered calmly.

I glared. “I expected you to provide information prior to the event. I was beingpatient. Now in the final hour, so to speak, I’m concerned.”

“I can see that.” Alana leaned back in her chair, and I could have sworn I caught a lift of her lips before the bland expression slipped back into place. The micro-movement led me to believe she was enjoying my discomfort. Something that instantly set fire to my ire.

“Tell me what it is you expect to get out of the auction tomorrow that won’t be exactly what I’ve promised you, Mr. Larsen? A willing bride and a three-year commitment of marriage. The same your friend Erik Johansen received. That is what I have offered, and what you yourself agreed to when you signed each of the contracts my lawyers provided. If you are not interested in bidding on a person tomorrow, you don’t have to. Nothing is set in motion until you’ve won a bid.”

“I have no idea who to bid on!” I barked, then tugged at my necktie to loosen it. The damn thing felt like it was cutting off my airway.

“That is up to you. During the auction, you will receive some general information about the candidate at the same time as everyone else.”

“I want more than that,” I growled. “And for the millions of dollars I will be spending, I deserve it.” I inhaled sharply through my nose and let it out slowly, staring Alana down.

The Madam was a worthy opponent. She didn’t so much as flinch or change her expression. She knew she was in charge, and regardless of my dislike of the process, she carried all the cards.

“What exactly is it that you’re looking for in a bride? Do you even know?” She redirected the question at me.

“Obviously, I do.” I snapped and then my mind went blank. I went from feeling frustrated to angered to nothing. A big, empty hole right where the visions of my dream girl should be.

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