Page 65 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 3

“Cramps?” I asked, rubbing on her back.

She nodded.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Hurry. And if I think for a second you’re pulling a fast one, I’ll hurt the girl.”

Emily made a gagging noise.

“I think you get the picture, now go.” He pulled the gun from his holster and gestured toward a door off the living space.

“My purse has extra sanitary products.” I pointed to my bag that one of the men had placed on top of the bar.

Instead of handing it to me like I’d hoped, knowing I had a sharp nail file inside it that I could possibly use as a weapon, he dug through and pulled out a padded square wrapped in pink plastic. He tossed it at me, and I caught it mid-air.

I gave him a closed lip fake smile. “Merci,” I mumbled and hustled Emily into the bathroom.

Emily pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet. Apparently, she did need to use the restroom, but I knew she wasn’t due for her cycle for another few days. Thankfully, I’d kept a sanitary napkin in my purse just in case.

“Are you bleeding?” I asked.

She shook her head and then pointed at her watch. “It’s an Apple watch. They took my phone, but I can send and receive most everything.” She prodded the device display, pulled up her contact labeled “Dad” and moved to press call.

I shook my head and stopped her hand. “No,chérie, they’ll hear. Text him: 4th floor, the Ritz. Call 112,” I whispered close to her ear. In the states people called 911 for help. In France it was 112.

Her eyes lit up and she nodded, typing on the tiny screen at what seemed like the speed of light.

“Gotcha. I also silenced it,” she said so low I could barely hear it.

A loud banging sounded on the wood door, and we both jumped, Emily covering her mouth, so she didn’t scream.

“Hurry the hell up! The boss will be here any minute.”

I paced as Emily typed and peed at the same time. For having been so scared she’d passed out, she certainly bounced back and was doing great under pressure now.

She finished the text, flushed the toilet, and moved to wash her hands.

“Keep the sweater over your wrist,” I said right against her ear.

She nodded as I opened the door.

I took Emily’s hand and led her back to the couch. This time she sat right next to me, our thighs touching, our hands held together. She kept her head down, her hair covering most of her sweet face.

“You know, you could let the girl go before your boss gets here. There’s no reason to bring a child into whatever this is,” I tried.

The man’s shoulders shook as a bout of laugher left him. “Not happening. Besides, the girl looks familiar. Who is she?”

I shifted Emily closer, wrapping my arm around her back.

“No one. I’m babysitting for a friend,” I snapped.

“Bullshit. She called you Auntie, and I happen to know you don’t have any living relatives besides your husband, Christophe, who also has no family. And yet…” He tilted his head. “I’ve seen her somewhere… Look at me,” he demanded.

Emily shook her head and kept her head down. I’d never been more proud of her.

“Leave her alone!” I yelled as the door to the suite opened, and several men in black suits entered. A single large man in the center.

A man I recognized instantly.

It couldn’t be.

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