Page 14 of Once Upon A Sale

“Well done. What have you prepared for dinner?”

“Lasagna, Sir. Would you like to start with that?”

What I really want is to paddle Ophelia’s arse for not replying to my last text yet, to make her peachy skin red in the shape of my palm, then to soothe it with my tongue…

Fuck. This girl’s got me in her claws and I need to get out of them real quick.

“Yes, Georgina. Let’s start with dinner.” Because anything else feels like I’m cheating on someone that isn’t even mine. Yet.

Murderess or not, I’ll have her for myself.

Chapter Seven

Ophelia

Detroit is not Miami.

The smell in the air is missing the saltiness of the sea and the temperature feels like a drop of about…I don’t fucking know. A lot of degrees for someone who grew up in South Florida and wears open-toed shoes more often than not.

As I step off the plane at Willow Run instead of Detroit Metropolitan—it’s smaller, more intimate and better suited for a discreet pick-up—these are the thoughts going through my mind. Instead of worrying about what I’m going to do at the auction, I’m obsessing over my choices of wardrobe.

Last night, the email we’d been hoping for came in the form of a formal invitation to the auction. Saying we were cutting it close isn’t even an understatement at this point. The list of rules to follow is extensive, which means I need to be on my best behavior or I run the risk of being kicked out within the first few seconds of me being there.

That would be unacceptable.

To be honest, the rules are quite simple and straightforward. As per the instructions in the acceptance letter, I’m to be picked up by a town car and be available all weekend, no exceptions.

The tricky part is not taking my phone with me so I’ll truly be alone for three days until they drop me back off at the airport on Sunday. The girls and I decided it was best not to have it on me in case the buyer gets nosy. I can hold my own, but as I’m descending the airstairs of my jet, I’m starting to feel a little nervous and maybe even regretting my decision.

What if I’m wrong? What if the guy we’re looking for isn’t there? What if he is but I’m not his type? What if the guy who does buy me is a total sadist? I really don’t think killing the buyer is acceptable.

In one hand, I’ve got a small carry-on with my makeup and sexy clothes, while in the other I have my purse, which is small enough to easily carry anywhere.

“Will you be okay?” Tabatha’s voice sounds on this side of a mental breakdown so I reassure her as I stop my descent and turn, looking up into her worried face.

“Of course, gorgeous. You know I can hold my own.” Blowing her a kiss, I wink and do my best catwalk out into the middle of the runway where a black town car has just pulled up.

“Madam.” A sharp chauffeur gets out and opens my door, closing it gently behind me.

Well, here we are.

I’m about to sell my body for a good cause. With a little luck, I’ll get myself a couple of orgasms to go.

The entire flight over from Miami, I tried to imagine how this whole weekend would go. I figured I could use my charm to get some information from the driver. Small talk goes a long way to build trust.

Besides, with the hefty NDA I had to sign, there’s no way I’ll even talk to my besties about the auction or else risk my future first born.

“Hi, I’m Sunny.” Yes, I chose to use Logan’s nickname for me. I think I was afraid of not answering to some random alias.

“I’m Robert, ma’am. I’ll be transporting you to and from the auction. Is there anything you need? There’s a fridge in the back stocked with various drinks.” Yeah, I’m not drinking before getting sold to the highest bidder.

“You’re very kind but I think I’m okay, thank you.” Here goes nothing. “Have you been doing this for a while?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Seconds go by and he doesn’t add on to that.

“Nice. Have there ever been any problems with the…merchandise?” Fuck me, I hate that they call us that, like a slab of meat on a counter we’re about to slice into for dinner.

“No, ma’am.” Well, Robert is boring as fuck.

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