Page 57 of Hope's Highest Bidders

I start washing the dishes, but I don’t stop. “So does she need help? Is she okay?”

Elana takes the plate from my hands and dries it. “She’s fine. She’s responsible, and she says she knows what she’s doing. Plus, why do you care? You met her one time.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that even though I met her that one time, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind, but I don’t say it. Instead, I hustle through the dishes. It’s obvious that I’m not going to get any information from my sister. I’m going to have to find out what’s going on my own way.

No sooner do we finish dishes than Elana says she needs to get back into town. I’m standing in the doorway of my cabin as she drives off. As soon as she waves at me in the rearview mirror, I’m heading to my home office and logging into my computer.

What are you up to, Maggie?

First, I look at the camera that I installed outside her house. Even now, I feel like a creep for doing it, but I justified it to myself that I just wanted to make sure she got home safe at night. I’ve spent hours the last few weeks watching her come and go or sit on her front porch swing and read a book. Her car is home, so whatever she’s doing, she hasn’t left yet.

Next, I log into the Distillery’s mainframe. This I feel less guilty about. It’s the company email, and it’s monitored anyway. Why can’t I log in to her email just to see what she’s got planned? I try to convince myself it’s for her safety, but after forty minutes of searching, I don’t find anything out of the ordinary.

I debate with myself for all of fifteen minutes before I make my next move. It’s a complete invasion of privacy, but there’s no way I can go another minute without knowing what she’s up to.

I connect to my hacker software and put it to work. Within two minutes, it has me logged into Maggie’s personal email. I feel sick to my stomach because I know I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong on so many levels, but even knowing that doesn’t stop me.

The subject lineYou’re invited to the Breeder’s Auction Housepops out to me, and I click on it.

She was invited to an elite auction. I’ve heard of it before but only in passing. I read the details, and Maggie is invited to auction off her virginity for one million dollars. I hold on to my breath and click on her sent folder. I scan the emails until I see it. She responded to the invitation.

As I read the email, my palms get sweaty, and my heart feels as if it’s going to pound out of my chest. She signed the contract. Maggie… the woman that I can’t forget. The woman that I’m obsessed with and that I pushed away is auctioning off her virginity. I stand up over my computer, hands on the desk, leaning over like I’m ready to pounce. “No!” I scream. She can’t do it. There’s no way I can let her do this. What is she thinking?

I push everything off the top of my desk and sling it to the floor. Enraged, I stomp through the cabin until I’m outside and I can’t hold back any longer. The sound that erupts from me doesn’t even sound human. It’s filled with rage. Panting, I pace back and forth, trying to catch my breath. My thoughts are everywhere, but one thing I know for sure: When she does this, when she stands on that stage to auction herself off, I’ll be the one that wins… no matter the cost.

9

MAGGIE

I’m next.

I’ve almost talked myself out of this a hundred times, but whenever I think about Ben, I know I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know why I’m hung up on him, but I’m positive doing this will finally clear all remnants of him from my head. It has to.

I don’t know what kind of hold he has on me. I met him, and thirty minutes later, I was ready to have sex with him. Three weeks later, I can’t get him off my mind. I shake my head. Geez, imagine if I actually had slept with him. I’d probably be obsessed.

This whole thing has been overwhelming. From the moment I got here to the site of the auction, I’ve been plucked and prodded. I have more makeup on than I’ve ever worn in my life, and I’m basically parading around this place in my underwear.

The owner of the auction, Coco St James, has bossed me and everyone else around, but I have to admit, it runs like a well-oiled machine.

“Now here’s a special treat. We have lucky number seven.”

I grit my teeth when they call my number, but I force my shaky legs to take me out onto the stage. The audience is dark, and I can’t see a thing, which makes this a little easier. I try to convince myself that no one is out there as I walk to the end of the stage and turn back around. My hands are straight at my sides as I try to hold down my see-through lingerie. My ass is bare, and I know I’m showing it with each step I take. Coco St. James rambles on about me, but it’s like a whoosh of air in my ear because I don’t make out anything she says. I’m full of nerves and trying not to bolt the whole time I stand here.

“Let’s start the bidding at one million.”

There’s a buzz in the room, and Coco smiles. “Well, okay, everyone. Someone is obviously smitten. I have a bid for five million. Can I get five and a half?”

I gasp, but before I can react, there are more buzzes in the room. Each one makes the bid go higher, and when Coco St. James calls the final bid at eight million dollars, I feel faint.

Someone just bought my virginity for eight million dollars.

The reality of what I’m doing hits me like a punch in the gut. I stumble off the stage, and a security guard leads me to a side room. I wait impatiently for my buyer to come, and when Bentley Barrett walks through the door, I feel a mix of relief and anger at the same time.

“No,” I say as soon as I spot him.

His eyes travel down the length of me, and my traitorous body reacts. My nipples pucker, and there’s a pull in my lower belly. Damn, he’s handsome. Even more so than I remember.

“What are you doing here?”

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