Page 10 of Auctioned

Topher, the psycho, wouldn’t have noticed me. We would’ve never met.

He would have found another poor woman to prey upon.

Not the most selfless thought to have. Then again, Iambeing carried—respectfully, but still—by James. He’s taking me somewhere where no one will hear me scream.

He remains silent throughout the entire demeaning walk to the hidden door Topher has left open. He says nothing as we descend the stairs. As we follow Topher through the medieval-looking hall beneath James’s mansion.

Sconces line the walls along the way, but their light isn’t warm. Not at all.

I’m shivering. Teeth clinking.

The heater works just fine.

My foreboding doom is what does that to me.

“Ow!” I stumble on one of the cracks in the stone floors. James steadies me against his hard body, the movement impersonal.

Topher whips his head around. “Dying won’t help you, pretty one.”

My skin crawls at the familiar nickname.

He has no right. No right at all.

“Go to hell.”

“I have a few years until I get there. You, on the other hand?—”

“Keep walking,” James interrupts.

He’s protecting me. Sort of.

I’ll take it, that sliver of humanity.

I’ll do better and use it to my advantage.

“Wait!”

Both men stop to stare at me.

“What, Ophelia?” My name, spoken by James.

I hate that my heart swoops.

Can’t stand the hope that latches onto me.

Throwing up would’ve been the more appropriate reaction.

Because he isn’t my knight in shining armor. He doesn’t care, that much is clear.

But he might come to his senses. He could save me if I played my cards right.

“She’s stalling.” Topher runs his knuckles over my cheek. James seethes. Fuckers. The two of them. “Let’s go.”

When tears brim in my eyes, I do my best to stay in the present moment. To survive this.

“Please.” I’m not above begging. Another step into this medieval-looking hallway and I’m done. “Please, I don’t have much to give you, but whatever I have, it’s yours. I won’t tell anyone, either. Let me go. Please.”

Silence.

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