Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I gasp a little in surprise. I’m watching my friend have sex.
“Not in the same room as me,” barks another man, drawing my eye. He turns away, holding up a hand to block any possible peripheral vision of Moira.
He’s the one who locked eyes with me earlier. As I look, he glares my way again.
I frown. He looks angry at me. I look back at Moira as she lets out a high-pitch groan and wiggles away from the man. Without a word, she grabs him by the front of his untucked button-down shirt while he struggles to yank his pants up, dragging him down a hallway.
“Now,” Caleb announces from beside me. “Do we have a bidder?”
FOUR
DOMHNALL
I don’t know what fucking game this is.
I don’t know how she got here or what the fuck is going on. Everything inside me goes cold as all around me, my colleagues start exuberantly shouting bids.
I feel out of control, and I’m never out of control. Not since I was seventeen. Which is where I’m suddenly transported back to.
Seventeen, with my soul broken, in sharp, jagged pieces being sucked out through my arsehole.
Yes, unthinkable as it is, I had a soul once.
But then she left. Without me. She took off with her father and all the money I’d stolen for them. She left me holding the proverbial bag, my digital fingerprints all over data that led right back to the internet cafe where she’d picked me up like the dumb mark I was. Even back to the flat I shared with my little sister.
I only had tickets out of town because I’d bought them to run away with her and Moira. We barely got through US customs safe before alerts went out for our names. We had to go with fake ones until I got rich enough to clear up the little problem from my past. Otherwise I would have had to keep running forever.
The sick twist of my guts knows that’s only the beginning of the story. Or rather the twisted fucking ending. I never cared about the money.
I care that she served me up on a platter to be fucking destroyed. Just like she did to others before and no doubt after me.
Now, somehow she’s here, nine years later. Madison. Mads. Though I doubt that was her real name either.
Here with her tits out. She glances shyly around the room of men with those light hazel-brown eyes, fluttering her lashes just like she used to at me when we were teenagers. Rage balloons inside my chest even as, in some part of me, I feel it working.
She’s still just as fucking beautiful and alluring.
I want her even as I want to destroy her.
How the fuck is she here? And what the fuck sorta con is she trying to run now? Moira’s told me all about her. A friend from the women’s shelter. A sad case.
Sad case my ass. Fury blazes even hotter when I realize she’s targeted my sister first, to get to me.
Fuck with me all you want, but my sister? Moira’s so naïve. It’s always been my worst fear that someone will take advantage of her. I only let her volunteer at the women’s shelter because I have it guarded twenty-four/seven. I didn’t consider that one of the bitches inside might—
My vision goes red and I’m two seconds from yanking Mads off stage by her hair.
Which is when I hear, “Six million going once, going twice—”
“Ten million!” I shout.
I feel the stares of those around me, along with some disgruntled grumbles. I’m not supposed to be bidding tonight. I can see how it might feel to the so-called friends I invited here. As if I’m just artificially driving up the bid, but they’ll soon see that no one is walking away today with this so-called prize except me.
“Ten million, five hundred thousand,” tries one man, a finance bro.
“Fifty million,” I say, in no mood.
Everyone turns away, really grumbling now. “If you want to get your dick wet, grab a rubber and go find my sister,” I say coldly, “It’ll make her night.”
Then I’m striding towards the stage.
I jump up on the small platform, ignoring a frowning Caleb.
“Was this your plan all along?” he asks, in some sort of mood. “I told you, I don’t want your charity.”
I ignore him and snatch Madison’s wrist. My fingertips sizzle where they make contact with her skin, and I hate the electricity of our connection that’s still here. She looks up at me, her mouth dropping in an O of surprise.
“Hi,” she says tentatively.
Always playing her fucking games. I’m torn momentarily from the present right back to the moment I last saw her.
Those big eyes of hers were full of heartbreak and pity. “I know. I saw last night. Oh God, Domhnall. I saw. I’m so sorry. He’s a—”