Page 33 of Auctioned Surrender

“You did both of you a favor by understanding your needs and realizing that you weren’t compatible. Trust me, he wouldn’t have been happy in the long run. I’m still going to need a list of his friends and his family.” I slide a pen and pad of paper to her. “Write as many down as you can remember while I refresh our wine,” I say, taking the glass in front of her that has little more than a drizzle left at the bottom.

I give her time to write, and only allow her another glass of wine because I know without a doubt the drugs have cleared her system, and pour myself one too, this time before checking my phone in between glances of watching her while she crinkles her brows and writes name after name. She has no idea how beautiful she is, and the fact that she’s ashamed of her virginity is incomprehensible to me.

The text I’m waiting for comes in just as I’m placing her glass of wine in front of her. She glances up at me, pen mid-stroke, and there’s something about that look that keeps my focus on her and not the message. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

“Nothing to worry about. Keep going, Bryanna.”

“There was one time we were out with another couple. One of my girlfriends brought a new date along. They went to dance, and we were talking, you know, about that… you know… the fact that I hadn’t done anything before, and my friend and the guy she was with came back unexpectedly. He might have heard the last part of our conversation about it. I recall the look he gave me. I sort of forgot about it when you asked, but I couldn’t shake it for a couple days. It was just super creepy.”

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “I need the name of your friend and the creep.”

She nods. “Yep, her name is Meghan Richards, and his was something like Romeo, but it wasn’t that exactly. Wait, let me think,” she says, scrunching her brows for a few seconds. “It was Ramiro! Yep, it was Ramiro!”

“Remember his last name?” I ask, because this fucker is going into our database as soon as I get a lock on him. Instincts! Always trust your instincts. Bryanna knew, she just didn’t know to trust them or what to do, and damn it if she’ll ever be in that position again.

“No, just his first.”

“Go to your school?”

“No, just someone Megs met at another club.”

“Do you know your friend’s phone number, Bryanna?”

She shakes her head as she contemplates this. “Damn cell phone technology. I just used to hit her pic on my contacts. I don’t have a clue what her phone number is, and I haven’t seen my cell since the night they picked me up—

“Oh, wait, my mom has it! It’s in the address and phone number book I gave her. Mom is not into technology, but she wanted her number one other time when we went away together for the weekend. If you and your security team didn’t take it away from her, she should still have it. It’s small, and she always kept it in her purse.”

“Excellent, let’s get your mom on the phone, but I want to hear the conversation.”

“Are you serious, right now?” she asks, almost bouncing out of the barstool I’ve placed her on, and the fact I’ve asked to listen to the conversation doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest.

I hand a burner cell to Bryanna, listening to the happy and tearful reunion while I rummage through the refrigerator to get a few things out for a late dinner, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand at edge when her mom tells her she just spoke with her brother and she told him where they are staying, and he’s on his way to see her and the kids.

Chapter 24

Bryanna

Just the sound of my mom’s voice is enough to make me swallow back the emotions of the last few weeks. “Baby, the security team told me everything. I’m so very sorry. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, sweetheart,” she says and the sadness in my mom’s voice causes my tears to spill over. I turn from the counter, away from the eyes that are heating my skin as they penetrate me.

“It’s okay, Mom. It could have been so much worse. We’ll be together as soon as we can, okay, and we’ll talk more then? Right now I’m staying with Damian, and he’s taking care of me. I don’t have my cell phone, and I need Meghan’s phone number.”

“Hang on a minute. Let me grab my purse, okay?” I hear the clink of a phone being laid on a hard surface and then the squeal of children’s laughter as my niece and nephew banter in the background. My chest tightens with the knowledge that everyone I love is safe, and it’s all thanks to Damian.

I gaze at him over the wine glass and find his dark penetrating eyes taking me in. I glance down so he doesn’t see my attraction to him. The last thing he needs to deal with is a woman with no relationship experience to speak of, who can’t tell the difference between an offer to have a good time versus the overpowering feeling that I’m starting to have for him. Thisis why men don’t want inexperienced women like me. I swallow hard and will the ache in my center to calm, taking another sip of wine before my mother returns to the line.

“Do you have a pen or pencil?” she asks. I smile, watching Damian, who is on the ready to plug the number she provides into his cell. Techy, my mom is not.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I tell her, rolling my eyes upward.

I can’t help but watch as the curves of Damian’s lips turn upward momentarily. His eyes seem to dance with amusement.

She provides me with the number, he captures it electronically, and then Mom catches me up on the kids’ drama, and then tells me that my brother just called and wants to come and see them. I hate the fact he picks and chooses when to make an appearance in their life, but I know the kids love him dearly and are always thrilled to see their daddy when he makes time to visit. We talk for a few more moments before disconnecting, and I promise her that I’ll connect with her tomorrow.

When I glance up and go to hand the cell back to Damian, his eyes are heated and intense, and he’s pounding out message after message on his cell.

“Damian, what’s wrong?” I ask, but he only glances up at me briefly before resuming his messaging. I give it a minute, and his fingers finally come to a stop before the full weight of his stare is upon me. The intensity I see is enough to tell me something’s wrong, but there’s more swirling in those deep, penetrating eyes of his.

“Tell me, Damian. If it’s about me, I have a right to know.”

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