Chapter 3 #3
The thought should send me running. Marriage is a cage. Marriage is the end of freedom. Marriage is my mother’s fondest wish and my worst nightmare.
Because these auctions aren’t some twisted affair.
The contract these women are agreeing to is a legal marriage.
Binding for a minimum two-year term. It’s the only way to make the whole enterprise somewhat legitimate.
Consenting adults entering into marriage.
The men who buy these women become their husbands, with all the legal protections that afford both parties.
Twisted, but effective.
If I buy Lennox Briggs tonight, she’ll be my wife before we leave this building.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like destiny, like she’s been delivered to me on a silver platter by the gods.
“And now, gentlemen, the final presentation.” The auctioneer’s voice drops lower, more intimate. “Lot seven will model the lingerie, and then we’ll open bidding.”
Lennox struts off stage. This is the plan, the point where the men start to figure out what they want to bid, without the haze of the woman standing before them.
When she returns, there is no trembling, no hesitation. She drops the satin robe and stands there in nothing but black lace and sheer mesh that barely qualifies as coverage.
The room goes silent.
She is devastating, and utterly unbothered. She’s standing there like a queen surveying peasants, like she is doing them a favor by allowing them to look.
Arrogant. Fearless. Everything I’ve been looking for without knowing it.
“Let’s start the bidding at five hundred thousand,” the auctioneer announces.
Hands shoot up immediately.
“Five hundred!”
“Six hundred thousand!”
“Seven fifty!”
I watch the bids climb. I need to be patient. These men are amateurs. Throwing out numbers to look impressive, thinking money alone will win them something they don’t deserve.
“One million!” Someone in the third row, fat fingers glittering with gold rings.
The room quiets for a moment. Most lots went for six to eight hundred thousand. Only the truly exceptional ones break a million.
Lennox doesn’t react. Doesn’t even blink.
“One point two!” Another voice, younger. Tech money, probably.
“One point five!” The fat man again, becoming aggressive.
They think they can have her, think their money makes them worthy of owning something so rare.
“One point eight million!” The tech kid, sounding triumphant.
I let the silence stretch. Let him think he’s won.
Then I lean forward slightly, just enough for my voice to carry clearly through the ballroom.
“Two million.”
The room goes dead quiet.
Every head turns toward me. I can feel their shock, their recognition. Sebastian Drake doesn’t participate in these auctions. Everyone knows that.
Until now.
The auctioneer recovers first, his smile widening. “Two million from Mr. Drake. Going once…”
No one else bids. They won’t dare. Not against me, not in my own building, not when I’m making it clear I want her.
“Going twice…”
I keep my eyes on Lennox. She finally looks away from the back wall, scanning the darkness, trying to see who just bought her. Trying to see me.
She stares to where my voice came from, but it’s too dark beyond the stage to see further than the first few rows.
And I smile.
“Sold!” The gavel comes down with a sharp crack. “Lot number seven goes to Mr. Sebastian Drake for two million dollars.”
She’s mine.
I slowly stand, button my suit jacket, and walk down the center aisle toward the stage. Every eye in the room follows me. Let them watch. Let them see exactly what happens when Sebastian Drake finally finds something worth keeping.
Lennox watches me approach, her expression unreadable. No fear. No relief. Just cold calculation, like she’s assessing a threat.
Smart girl.
I climb the stairs to the stage, crossing the distance between us until I stand close enough to touch. Close enough to smell her, something clean and simple, not the heavy perfume most women wear. Soap and shampoo, but underneath it, fear. Just a trace, but it’s there.
She is human after all.
“Kathryn? I seem to know you as Lennox, so which is it?” I ask quietly, just for her. Her eyes widen slightly. She didn’t expect me to know her, or to recognize her.
“Both, I prefer Lennox,” she says with a hint of ice in her voice.
“I’ve been watching you for months,” I continue, letting my hand come up to trace her jawline. Her skin is soft, warm. She doesn’t flinch. “The way you handle difficult guests without breaking. The way you smile even when you’re exhausted. The way you never, ever show weakness.”
I brush my thumb over her plump, kissable bottom lip. What I would give to bite it while I kiss her. Soon enough, I think to myself.
“You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for. And in a few moments, you’ll be my wife.”
Something flashes in her eyes, shock, maybe, or calculation. But she doesn’t pull away from my touch. She just glares at me with those cold, blue eyes and says nothing.
Perfect.
“Have the paperwork ready,” I demand. “We’ll finalize everything in the private room.”
The auctioneer nods, already gesturing to his assistant. “Of course, Mr. Drake. Right this way.”