Page 30 of Tamed

That muscle in his jaw jumped yet again and I wondered idly if he was going to storm from the room in a fit of pique. Ten was a locked box to most people and he could dissemble with the best of them. But I knew him too well and he was always pissed when he was worried, and when he was pissed, he needed to let off steam somehow. No surprises where Isabel got her temper from. Everyone thought it was from Juliana, and fair, she’d had a temper on her. But really, Isabel had gotten most of it from Ten. They were very similar in many ways, and it was no wonder they butted heads so frequently.

Ten let out a breath. “Apologies,” he said in his usual stiff way. “You’re probably right about the distraction.”

“Excellent.” Atlas pushed himself out of the chair. “Bring on the fucking virgins.”

“But I’m not going to the auction,” Ten said flatly. “And that’s final.”

9

Isabel

Arcadia was something else.

Zara and I were immediately shown into the bar and it was quite frankly the most amazing bar I’d ever been in.

The walls were wood paneled, the bar itself polished oak. The bottles behind it were on tiered glass shelves and lit up with golden lights. There was a magnificent chandelier over the bar, the light glossing the worn, comfortable looking leather bar stools that lined it. Scattered around the room were groups of Art Deco-style club armchairs and couches upholstered in dark blue velvet, while along one wall were a series of deep booths. The whole place was dimly lit by wall lamps that cast small pools of warm golden light.

The bar oozed luxury and a discreet old-world charm, conjuring up visions of women in sleek nineteen-thirties style gowns sipping on martinis, and men in tuxes with slicked back hair, smoking cigars.

I loved it immediately.

There were people there already, sitting together on the couches or on the stools, while a couple of groups were in the booths. Not too many people though, enough that the low hum of conversation was restful, not deafening. A couple of glances were flicked our way, but no one was gauche enough to stare.

The man showed us to one of the booth seats and said he’d be right back with some drinks. They were complimentary, he said. Champagne to welcome new guests to Arcadia.

“This is amazing,” I hissed, leaning over the booth’s table toward Zara, who sat opposite me.

She was grinning as madly as I was. “I know, isn’t it? I came here for the auction interview, and I loved it.”

A couple of minutes later, our handsome friend returned with two crystal flutes of champagne, which he put on the table with an ‘enjoy,’ before disappearing off to wait on another group.

Zara and I picked up our flutes, toasted each other, then sipped. The champagne fizzed on my tongue, cold and dry and yeasty, and delicious. It definitely wasn’t the cheap stuff, that was for sure. Had to be vintage. Dad didn’t drink much, but he had a weakness for expensive scotch and champagne, so when we had alcohol, it was either one or the other, and I’d grown up with an appreciation of both.

This was just as good as Caleb’s Glenfiddich.

I took another appreciative sip then put my glass down. “Okay,” I said. “So, tell me about this auction. Where is it and how does it work?”

“It’s held in a special room down there.” Zara nodded her head toward a curtained door toward the back of the bar. “Only people who’ve registered as a buyer can attend. I don’t have to be there if I don’t want to, but apparently you get a better price if you’re physically present.”

I pulled a face, not liking that idea one bit. “So, what? You just sit there while they bid on you?”

Zara sipped slowly at her champagne, her expression very serene for a woman about to auction off her virginity. “Yes.”

“Why are you so calm?” I demanded, anxiety on her behalf twisting in my gut “I’d be freaking out.”

“I’m calm because I’m going to have money,” she said. “It’s the having no money and a mountain of debt that freaks me out. And anyway, it’s only sex.”

I couldn’t speak to the having no money part, because obviously growing up with a billionaire for a father made that slightly different for me than everyone else, but I could imagine. It would be damn scary.

“But what if you have to do some weird sex stuff?” I was morbidly fascinated. “Like, what if whoever buys you has a foot fetish? Or wants you to dress up as a nurse and change a diaper?”

Zara laughed. “Honestly? I don’t care. You have a contract you sign that details all the things you’re willing to do and all the things you’re not. Then that’s given to the prospective buyers so that they know what they can and can’t ask you to do.”

Well, that sounded a lot more civilized than I’d imagined. “Oh. That’s not so bad, I guess. I hope you specified no diaper changing.”

She shrugged. “If you have a lot of hard restrictions then you don’t get as much money. So, I opted for an unrestricted contract.”

My mouth fell open. “No restrictions? Are you insane? That means they can get you to doanything.”

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