Page 158 of Auctioned

“Your loyalty is admirable. Defending him when your life is on the line.” It truly is. I’m mildly shocked. “When he has men and women everywhere to keep him safe.”

When he’s the strongest, most imposing man I’ve ever met.

“Please.” I have no intention of killing her. James would be upset if I did. I’d hate to upset him. “He’s a good man. Deep down. The best one.”

She’s talking about the girls he’s saved. She probably knows about Topher’s mom, at least. I think. I think she’s already guessed it, the observant woman she is.

“You think I don’t know my owner?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” It’s important to her that I repeat these words. She needs to make sure that I’ll never hurt him. “My owner.” I won’t tell her I love him before I tell him. That’s where I draw the line. “He’s mine as much as I’m his. I won’t murder the man I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with.”

Something’s come over me. A kind of possessiveness I’ve never felt before. The kind that makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs that I’m his. That he’ll forever be mine.

The two other girls stare at me. Their shock is still present, written all over their faces.

I also hear the gardeners talking outside. They’re close. They might try to stop me.

And James could be watching.

Which, I really need to ask him that. If he has cameras here. Too bad that it turns me on, this guessing game.

I’ll think about. Later. Now, I have to hurry.

He could be on his way, fully intending to discipline me. He could stop me from doing this one act of kindness for him.

No. No, no, no.

“Topher?” she asks. Not the young Mr. Hawthorne.

A satisfied hum rumbles in my chest. This sign of disrespect was the final proof I needed to tell me where her loyalties lie.

“I was going to break up with him.”

“Miss Monroe.” This is Poppy, her voice quivering. I’ve always loved my family’s last name. The last memory of my parents. Today, the sound of it rankles me. I belong to James. “Please. Let her go. No one has to get hurt.”

“No one will if you just fucking listen to me.”

“It’s the chef’s job.” Clara stays very still. I look at her hands, pleased that they clutch her apron instead of reaching for the kitchen island for her own broken shard. She won’t hurt me. “You can rest. Read a book. Please.”

James biting into the food the chef prepared.

James saying,delicious, don’t you think?

James enjoying anything that doesn’t involve me.

Like hell.

“Here’s how it’s going to go.” The power I hold in my hands changes me. It’s inappropriate to smile at a moment like this. Laughing is even worse. Yet here I am. Chuckling. “You three go back to your quarters. Tell the chef to go to his. By the way, there’s no need to get me anything from the other kitchen. I was here when they stocked the fridge.”

“I—Okay, okay.” Clara’s pulse isn’t as fast as it was two minutes ago. She’s settled, deciding she should trust me. She points to the landline phone on the kitchen counter, the one that’s connecting the mansion to the staff’s quarters. “Dial nine if you need anything.”

The adrenaline that swarmed through my veins has simmered. The urge to sink my teeth into something—or someone—slowly drifts away. I’m a functioning member of society again. Sort of.

“I won’t be needing you.”

I release her, jerking my chin toward Poppy. She understands, letting go of Maisie’s mouth. The three women are silent, seemingly shocked.

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