7. Auction Night
AUCTION NIGHT
SEAN
M y jaw clenched, and I slammed the file on my office table, making my colleague and secretary jumpy. Even after a morning workout, my neck, shoulders, and arms were still tense.
Massaging my temple, I tried to relax.
“What got your panties in a twist?” Derek asked, going through a superhero comic book. It was one of my favorites and that collection was special and cost me around fifty grand.
“Nothing,” I lied, leaning back in my chair and rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. “Do we have anymore client meetings?” I asked Paige, our very pregnant secretary, who never took my shit and kept me in check.
“Sean, you have that small landlord case on your desk, and Derek, you have a meeting at three to meet the dermatologist who filed a divorce. The one with pink hair.”
“I’m on it, ma’am,” he said, keeping the comic book on the desk before standing up and looking at me.
I eyed the file and stared at her, almost pouting. “Do I really have to?”
She shrugged, waddling to her desk nook. “It would benefit the company.”
“ I am enough to benefit the company, Paige,” I said with confidence, dragging the file closer.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that or I’ll gag,” she replied and added, “Win the case so you can feel big and important.”
“Now that’s more my style.” I enjoyed following up with small cases and winning them since no one guessed such a big-shot, handsome and sexy lawyer like me had time for that. Only interns worked on those cases.
But sometimes—only when Paige told me to—I’d win them and feel something warm in my chest, as if I was doing something good.
At the end of the day, it was all a lie.
I only did it to feel good about myself. It didn’t really matter and didn’t make my firm rich.
My head went off to that night. Chelsea .
I hadn’t seen or heard from her in the past two days.
When I woke up and found the guest room empty, I was confused and worried.
Did something happen to her? Was she not feeling well?
Why didn’t she wake me up before leaving?
She had left in a hurry since all her clothes were in the washroom, as if she didn’t have enough time to grab them.
Just a ‘sorry’ scribbled hurriedly on a piece of paper.
I pulled out the note from my pocket and rubbed my thumb over her scrawl. If she was my sub—which admittedly she wasn’t—I would have punished her for making me worry and leaving without a word, spanking her until a genuine apology spilled out of her lips, and then taken care of her.
My thumb stopped when I remembered her writing another note. Her bank information.
I unlocked my phone and stared at the amount I had sent her that morning. I didn’t have her number, but I knew how I could get it.
Smirking, I sent her one grand to get her attention, and in the pop-up box of sending additional information to the receiver, I typed, ‘Need your number, Princess.’
She would receive my banking information and hopefully, I’d get her number.
After two minutes, my patience thinned, so I sent her two grand and typed, ‘Now.’
I waited, glaring at my watch as five minutes passed. Then ten. I sighed, thinking I had lost her for good when I received multiple messages of small credits.
“Fuck yeah!” I grinned at my phone, blaring with text alerts. “Such a smart Princess.”
I noted down each number of credits she had made and sent her a text.
Hi, Princess.
Sugar Baby: why did you send me $3000?
To get your number, duh.
Sugary Baby: …
Sugary Baby: you’re insane
Sugary Baby: Sent $3000
I scowled, seeing her send me three grand. I pressed the call button, and I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t pick up.
Brat.
Sent $5000
Keep it or you’ll pay, Princess.
She didn’t reply once I sent her the five grand. I kept my phone on the desk and sighed. I have to talk to her about accepting my gifts.
Shaking my head, trying to erase my depraved thoughts, I read the file, frowning at the informal tone. An apartment got flooded because of a pipe burst, and one of the tenants had written this. I scoffed at the writing and the signed name, Rory.
Really, Paige?
She must have received an email from some college kid who lived in a cheap place and took pity on him. Her motherly instinct must have tingled that she printed it out and ordered me to solve the case.
I sighed and looked up the place online.
As expected, it was in the area where it was common for landlords and builders to make cheap houses using low-priced building materials.
I checked the time. Two in the afternoon.
If I drove there and gave my written statement to the landlord, scaring them, they would pay back to the tenants affected, and as a reward, I could go to the strip club.
To see if Chelsea would be there or not.
I had visited the day before just to see if she was there, but the manager told me she hadn’t applied for another day.
Without overthinking, I took my suit jacket, car keys, and the formal reply I had written in half an hour to the landlord.
* * *
“Seriously, man, you don’t know how grateful we are!” Rory, the tenant, said, following me into the dumpster of an apartment.
The landlord was appalled and wanted to punch me when I gave him the paperwork, but he was a coward, so my job was easy. He paid all the damages to all the tenants, and my client was a happy person. Paige was going to be pleased.
The flooded apartment was on the fifth floor, and the elevator didn’t work. There were no security check-ins or cameras anywhere. I could smell drugs wafting through the vent when I followed the kid upstairs.
I didn’t need to see the damages, but the kid was very pushy and the strip club wouldn’t open early, so I decided it was worth a shot to see the apartment.
It was once a nice and cozy place, but the smell of murky water made me cover my nose with my tie. Even the air was stagnant, and I was glad the four people living there were moving out.
The kid kept rambling on and on as I looked around, pausing at the room with the pink duvet and fairy lights. I felt a sense of familiarity seeing it.
“Oh, that’s Chelsea’s room. Poor girl, she was devastated when?—”
I turned to him, looking him in the eye for the first time. “Whose room?”
“Chelsea. My roommate,” he replied. “She’s the one who gave me your email. I told her you might never see it—but we’re so glad for your help!”
He kept rambling, but I focused on her room. I knew there were many Chelseas in the world, but she had rushed out early morning when her apartment got flooded, and not many Chelseas knew I was a lawyer.
I stepped into her room, looking around at the small space. A queen size bed with cute pink and white sheets and a duvet. Her wardrobe was partly empty and her small makeup collection by the dresser was damaged by the water.
I heard her roommate ramble about how she was going to throw it away. It looked like she had already trashed a lot of her stuff and was planning to move.
Thanking Rory for his time and declining his offer to have a beer. I sat in my car and wondered why she didn’t tell me she was living in such an area. I knew I was practically a stranger to her, but I wanted to be her Sugar Daddy and take care of her.
I tried calling her again, but she didn’t pick up. Clenching my jaw, I drove to the club. She was going to learn some manners about picking up her damn phone.
On the way, I ordered Paige’s favorite food to thank her for giving me the case.
The bouncer let me in, and I heard the sultry music with a heady scent wafting through the place. I had one goal, and I knew I would find her in the club because her roommate had told me she was going to get a better place after getting paid for an expensive gig.
The only place who would pay her more for a few hours of work was the strip club, Heaven .
Or me. But she didn’t reach out to me.
My steps slowed down when I saw it was an auction night.
I had seen it a few times from the sidelines.
A few gorgeous women wearing tiny lingerie would flatter the crowd from the stage, and anyone could bid on them to spend a night with them.
The women would decide what was acceptable and what was not, but most of them ended up having sex, since only rich men could afford them.
I looked around to find a certain blond brat in the crowd, but it was futile. She wasn’t in the server group or lined up as a stripper— thank God . I didn’t mind anyone doing sex work, but I didn’t want Chelsea to do sex work for money when she had me.
“And our final contestant is an angel who landed from heaven to spend one sexy night with a lucky man… or a woman,” the host’s voice echoed in the hall and even my eyes trained on the stage. “Welcome Candy, the sweet and spicy blond who will rock up your world!”
Everyone became silent when a petite woman dressed in a white lace basque with sexy white stockings, garter belts, and heels stepped on the stage.
I strode closer and narrowed my eyes at those long legs that were shaking in front of the horny crowd, who cheered as Chelsea scanned the rowdy people with a nervous gaze.
This. Fucking. Girl .