Page 10 of Auctioned Surrender

The bowl is almost halfway gone when Bryanna looks up at me and her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry! You haven’t even had anything to eat! I ate all of my food and yours too. I’m so embarrassed.”

She’s so damn adorable that I find it difficult to concentrate. “There’s plenty where that came from. There’s an entire three-quarters of a pan left in the refrigerator. You can eat whatever you want, Bryanna.”

She shakes her head. “Please quit calling me that. I told you; my name is Lacey. I appreciate you trying to help me out, but whoever you think I am, I’m not!” she says.

I can tell she’s starting to feel better, and her thoughts have returned to getting back to that seedy little bar, solidifying in my mind that whatever they’re holding over her is still a looming concern. I set the tray on the nightstand. “What if we just agree to disagree and I call you Doll instead?” I suggest before my brain can control what’s spewing from my lips.

Her eyes widen, the pulse in her neck quickens, and my dick throbs hard against the constraints of my zipper as I watch.

My job isn’t to punish the people who have caused her fear, simply to bring her home, but Brian Carrington is going to get his money’s worth on this job. Even knowing she was drugged by these people isn’t incentive enough to deter her from running back to them, which only confirms my suspicions. She’s glancing around, and assessing her way to the front door to make her escape. I need to find out what exactly they’re holding over her head, because just taking her back home isn’t going to fix the problem long-term, and she and I both know it.

The ding of the elevator alerts me to the arrival of the security team’s resident physician, letting me know that he will soon be at the door of my penthouse. “That must be your physician. I’ll let him in and be right back. If you’re still hungry, feel free to finish the rest of this bowl,” I say, gesturing to the dish of half-eaten casserole.

She smiles and nods at me shyly, drawing her knees up to her chest underneath my t-shirt, smiling at me in a way that makes me want to forget that she’s a job, an assignment I’ve been given, or that she’s young, but that’s not going to happen, because I don’t mix business with pleasure. I don’t get involved with mycases, and I sure as fuck don’t hit on ladies who’ve just barely turned of age; at least that’s what I tell myself as I walk through the living room to go answer the door.

Chapter 8

Bryanna

After examining me, the kind physician walks out of the bedroom, along with Damian. I still have no clue how I’m supposed to get out of here with Damian guarding me. I’ll never be able to outrun him; he’s just so muscular, and tall, and panther-like, and so incredibly handsome. He makes every nerve in my body tingle when he’s near, but this obvious attraction to him is not helping me in the slightest. I need to focus on figuring out how to get out of here and back to that bar before it’s too late.

I’m contemplating all the options as he talks outside my door. The doctor may have told me to take it easy for a bit and not to rush things, but I simply do not have the time. I slip off the bed, testing the strength of my legs and mobility. As soon as both feet touch the ground, the room sways slightly. Grabbing hold of the footboard helps keep me upright. I give myself a few minutes, just letting the dizzy feeling dissipate, before glancing around the room in a desperate attempt to locate the flip phone my captors gave me.

I hear Damian tell his physician thank you for coming over on such short notice and for taking care of me, and I quickly make my way back to the bed, pulling the covers over myself justbefore he opens the door. I scrunch my eyes closed, pretending to sleep, but the pad of his boots don’t go away, scuffing across the floor. He’s getting close. I can feel him and smell the spicy scent of his body. I try not to focus on the fresh smell of soap or the presence hovering above me, instead staying focused on my breathing. The blanket on the bed moves, and he pulls it upward, covering me with its warmth. Then he pushes a stray strand of hair away from my face. “Sleep, Doll,” Damian says.

I pretend to sleep and listen. There’s a brief rustling of clothes, and then the jingle of his belt, and a thud that sounds as though his buckle or something heavy hits the floor. The door to the bathroom opens and then closes. I suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for what I need to do. I could try to leave now, but if he’s just going to the bathroom or brushing his teeth, he could overpower me very quickly, but I weigh that with the fact that I may not have another chance.

The shower turns on, and I slip from beneath the covers. He’s left his clothing on the floor, and I kneel on the hardwood, running my hands over his pants, feeling the shape of a phone and something else. My trembling fingers pull out the flip phone my captor gave me, which is now completely dead, a credit card and a wad of cash. The next object makes my blood run cold. A handgun, small, so small. I don’t know what I’ll be facing tomorrow, and I know it’s not right to take his belongings, but Damian can easily replace it if he needs to. I only have one chance to get back to those monsters and safeguard my family.

I don’t have time to contemplate right or wrong. I just need to go while the water in the shower is still running. My clothes and shoes from the day before are nowhere to be seen, but my purse is lying on the chair. I grab it before snaking my way through the penthouse, out the door, and making a beeline to the elevator and hitting the button for the lower level. The doors seem to take forever, and I hold my breath, fearing any minutehe’s going to come barreling out of his penthouse. The door finally closes without intervention, and I breathe a sigh of relief as the elevator begins to lower, taking me away from the intense-looking man with deep blue eyes who could unintentionally cause harm to my family.

The walls in the small space are mirrored, and the person staring back at me is an absolute disaster. I run my fingers through my disheveled hair, smoothing it to the best of my ability. My makeup, unless you count the dark smudges underneath my eyes, is non-existent. The long t-shirt I’m wearing barely covers my thighs, but it will have to do.

I don’t know if it’s the enclosed space, or just the fact that I’m half-naked in his shirt, but the entire elevator suddenly smells like Damian. I’m completely covered in his scent, and it’s wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. I only wish he could protect me, but even if he thinks he can, he can’t keep me safe from these monsters, because they have so much money, they are beyond his reach.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lower level. I walk out looking anything but ordinary in my oversized t-shirt, a strappy white purse, and bare feet. The streets of Michigan Avenue are bustling with energy as people make their way up and down the sidewalks, and the city is plentiful with taxis, and it takes mere moments to flag a cab.

The driver raises his eyebrows in the rearview mirror when I give him the name of the bar. “You sure that’s the name, miss? That’s on the other side of town, and no disrespect, but it’s not exactly the best part of town,” he says.

“Yep, that’s the place. If you can get me there fast, and promise not to tell anyone you’ve seen me, I’ll throw in an extra-large tip,” I offer, settling into the hard seat of the taxi as the driver navigates his way through the congestion of downtown Chicago. The streets are heavily lined with pedestrians enjoyingthe nice evening, and he navigates the traffic carefully, moving at a snail’s pace until we reach a road that will take us out to the highway.

When he finally pulls up to the bar, I recognize the seedy place that I’ve been working at for the last few weeks. I peel off five fifties with shaky hands and pass them up to the driver.

The cabbie counts out the bills and whistles. “Miss, you sure you want me to leave you here? I can stay and make sure you get back uptown tonight,” he says, zeroing in on me from the rearview mirror.

I capture his eyes with my own. There is something about the concern of a total stranger that makes me want to cry, but I push the flood of emotions washing through me down. I need to focus on getting back into that bar and smoothing things over with the bosses, if it’s not already too late.

“I’m fine, but thanks for the offer and for the ride,” I say, sliding out of the taxi and giving him a backward wave goodbye.

When I enter the bar, the burly bouncer who always seems to have a scowl on his face looks me over. “About time you got your ass back here. The boss has been cuttin’ you slack because his lady seems to have taken a liking to you, but that credit’s only gonna get you so far. No one told the ladies they put you off for two days. They had to cover all your shifts, lost their regulars, and the bosses still wanted their money. I’m boss tonight, and you’re going to get your ass in there and make up for all their shifts. You may be protected, but that doesn’t give you a free ride around here. Bring down the house with a good show tonight, and I might forget that you got lost for a whole fucking day,” he says gruffly.

“I’ll try,” I say, making my way through the bar. The stage lights are aglow, and Layla’s strutting across the long length of the stage in a bright red g-string and minuscule lacy top that’s barely keeping her perfectly formed tatas from bouncing rightout of the material. The minute her hands touch the long silver rod that extends from ceiling to floor, the crowd goes absolutely crazy. They know exactly what they’re in for when Layla hits that pole.

I skirt behind the crowd who are all focused on Layla’s tight bottom as it lowers to the floor and starts to squirm slowly upward. She knows exactly how to work a crowd, and not one person’s eyes aren’t completely mesmerized by her performance. I head toward the back and into the dressing room that is little more than a closet with a couple sinks, lockers, and floor-length mirrors.

The ladies are all in a state of undress, getting ready for the evening and putting their makeup on. Tanya is outlining her stunning blue eyes with a deep black eyeliner pencil, but she turns and does a double take as she sees my reflection in the mirror. She spins, and in a quick flurry of pink fluffy material has me crushed in her arms. “We’ve been so worried about you! Where were you?”

I’ve been here for such a short time, and she and Layla have taken me under their wings and been such a source of comfort. I hug her back hard, but that’s about as much emotion as I can share, because I just don’t have the luxury of confiding in anyone.

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