Page 159 of Auctioned

It’s my turn to ignore them, to do what I have to. I grab a cloth from the counter and start dabbing the bleeding nick on Clara’s throat.

“I’m sorry, Clara.”

“No harm done.” Snapping out of it, she raises her chin, squaring her shoulders as if nothing happened here. “We’ll be getting out of your hair. No one will come in here; you have my word.”

“Good.” I jab a finger just below her collarbone. She flinches.

I look down at my other hand. At the plate I haven’t let go of.

Oops.

“Was there something else?” she asks.

“Yes.” I clear my throat. “If I so much as smell a whiff of food coming from the other kitchen, I’ll murder the chef and everyone else here. It’s a promise.”

Of course I won’t. Now that I’m not seeing red anymore, I understand how wrong it is.

They don’t have to know that.

“Certainly.” She smooths the skirt of her dress. A small smile plays on her lips. Hmm, curious. The water here must be poisoned, making people act a little crazy. “He’ll be home in less than an hour.”

I throw the broken plate behind me, nodding as if I know how long it takes to prepare any sort of meal.

They leave me alone, and I…

I pray.

32

JAMES

Contrary to what Ophelia believes, I don’t have cameras inside the house. Other than the one in the cell, of course, which was put there for a specific reason.

To stalk Ophelia.

She’s been searching for them, though she hasn’t flat-out asked me about it. I see her glancing at the corners of each room when she thinks I’m not watching.

Sneaky.

I don’t tell her that having cameras in our home is a vulnerability I can’t afford to have. An enemy could hire a hacker to break into my system.

They—Oliver and Topher included—could pay whatever it takes. Use whatever they unravel to extort me.

But God, do I wish I had a million cameras in every room of the house.

Every day I spend in the office without her carves a deeper hole in my chest. I miss her so badly that my heart feels like it weighs a million pounds when she’s out of my sight.

Getting off on her humiliation isn’t nearly as satisfying as looking at her. Holding her.

I clutch my fingers on the steering wheel of my SUV as I sit in my driveway, watching my home.

My cock is hard. Muscles flexing beneath my suit.

This is what this has come down to. This is the man I’ve become after hours upon hours of denying myself the one thing I truly care about.

Ophelia.

Every time one of the staff members turned their back on her, she must have been furious.

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