Chapter Three
The world seemed to be going by in a blur. While the auction continued for the other girls, Jewell was rushed off the stage as soon as she was “won.” She saw none of the money exchanging hands; she just felt her coat being placed on her shoulders, and she was led out the back door to a waiting car.
“Where am I going? Who bought me?” she asked the alarmingly large man holding open the back door.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” he told her in a deep voice that was as terrifying as his size. “Please get into the vehicle.”
He’d used the word please, but it was obvious that he hadn’t delivered a polite request. She had been paid for, and his boss, whoever he might be, wanted his merchandise now. Those long-threatening tears pressed even closer, and the burning grew more acute. But Jewell still fought to keep her outward composure.
She could try to run. Although she probably wouldn’t get far on the impractical heels she was wearing, she could make a valiant effort. You never knew. But then where would she be? She wouldn’t have money or a place to live, and she would be no closer to getting custody of her brother, a sensitive, grieving ten-year-old who was most likely stuck in a foster family from hell.
Yes, she could die. This man who had bought her could be a ruling sheik from a foreign land who planned to enslave her … but wasn’t she already enslaved? Even if the chances of her getting out of this debacle unhurt were slim to none, at least she had a sliver of hope. And think how much had been bid for her! The fifty percent she’d get when the month ended meant her beloved Justin would finally be hers.
That was the hope she held on to. That was the reason she finally climbed into the back of the car — an experience eerily like the first time she’d left the agency, when she’d been taken to Blake. She couldn’t help but think of the man as the car revved up and headed away from Relinquish Control.
Her biggest hope for the next thirty days — and it couldn’t be very big — was to find that the man who bid on her was like Blake. When she’d first met him, she wouldn’t have believed that she’d ever hope such a thing. But the short time with him had changed her. Though he’d pushed her with his demands, and though he’d made her do things far from her comfort zone, he’d also made her go up in flames, made her desperate for more. She very much doubted she’d be so lucky with her new master, or whatever the hell she was supposed to call him. The feelings she’d had with Blake were surely rare.
Jewell leaned back in the plush leather seat and struggled to clear her head. This was all beyond her control, so what good would it do to worry herself any more than she already was? Whatever happened would happen, and she wasn’t going to let herself lament her fate when she didn’t know yet what it would be. If only … if only she hadn’t been forced to take such a job.
When the car stopped and her door opened, Jewell just looked up at the massive suit-covered chest of the man waiting for her step from the car. Her nerves were in such a state that her stomach wanted to heave, but there was nothing in her stomach anyway — she’d been unable to eat — so what good would it do her?
So she finally climbed out and stood there on shaky legs as the driver shut the door. What on earth was she supposed to do next? She half suspected that the man was enjoying the tension of the moment and had decided to draw it out to torment her.
“Here’s your key. Your apartment is on the fifth floor, unit 512. Have a nice evening.” With that, he walked around to the front of the car, got back inside and drove away.
Jewell wasn’t sure how long she stood on the street watching the taillights disappear, but when her feet began screaming — these nosebleed heels were killing her — and the evening chill started seeping through her thin jacket, she turned and looked at the front of the apartment building.
A doorman stood silently next to an elaborate double door, his attention on her as he waited to see what she was going to do. Was this a joke? How did the man who’d purchased her know that she wouldn’t run?
That was a stupid question. The bidder knew she wouldn’t run, because if she did, she wouldn’t be paid. And he’d get a full refund anyway, so he could buy a new woman to slake his lust. Of course she was going to go inside; of course she was going to see what fate had in store for her.
With her head held as high as she could hold it, she approached the intimidating building.
“Good evening, Ms. Weston,” the attendant said as he held the door open.
That stopped her, and she stared at him in surprise. “How do you know who I am?” As soon as the words came out, she once again felt unutterably foolish.
“Your driver informed me that he would be bringing you by at this time,” the man replied in a professionally polite tone.
“Oh … That makes sense …” Jewell paused for a moment. “What’s your name?” The longer she delayed, the longer she could pretend she wasn’t a victim on the way to the sacrificial altar.
“My name is Flynn,” he said with what seemed to be a genuine smile.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Flynn. You can call me Jewell.” If she were going to be here for a while, she would probably grow to like the fellow.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he said, still holding open the door.
When she didn’t move, he added, “Can I help you with anything else?”
“I … um … haven’t been here before,” she told him. Though she knew where she was supposed to go — unit 512 — she wasn’t sure how to get to the apartment from where she was now. She was embarrassed to admit that to him, because now he was sure to know exactly what she was and why she was there — to be someone’s lady of the night, and of the day, too. Hell, flavor of the month.
But his expression didn’t change. “That’s no problem, Ms. Weston. The key you have in your hand will give you access to the elevator over there to your right. Once you’re inside, insert the key in the slot and press the button for your floor number,” he told her.
“Thank you, Flynn,” she said, and she finally walked inside, her eyes widening at the building’s luxurious lobby.
A security desk stood tall against the back wall; a man behind it was looking at monitors. Real live plants flanked a sitting area where comfortable tan leather chairs, currently empty, sat in a circle. The gray marble floors were freshly polished and shining, and the tall windows would bathe the room in light while the sun reigned in the sky.
Once she’d made it to the elevator, Jewell pushed the Up button, then had to wait only a few seconds before the doors opened and she was inside. Finding the slot for her key was easy. The doors shut and she was riding smoothly up to the fifth floor.
She arrived before she was ready and almost didn’t step off before the doors closed again. Her knees shaking even more than before, Jewell crept down the wide carpeted hallway until she found the door to her apartment. She had no idea how long she’d been standing there when she realized that the key in her hand was nearly cutting her skin open. She had the damned key in a death grip.
“It’s now or never. No matter how long you stand here, you’ll eventually have to see what’s on the other side of that door,” Jewell told herself just under her breath.
When she slipped the key into the lock, the door slid open easily, and she forced herself to walk inside. The entryway was large and well lit, and after shutting the door behind her, she stopped and listened for any sounds from within.
“Hello?” she called out, and then waited. No answer.
Could it be possible that no one was there with her? Why would someone spend two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and then not collect what was owed to him? It made no sense.
Her heart thundering, she slowly made her way deeper into the apartment, her stiletto heels clicking on the marble beneath her feet. The entry opened up into a large living room, one that was completely furnished but lacking any personal touches.
Beiges and soft greens seemed to be the color scheme of the apartment. If she could decorate any way she wanted, this wouldn’t be what she’d choose, but she’d also never be able to afford a place this luxurious, and she wouldn’t complain about staying there. Well, she wouldn’t complain until she had to find out what the price — the barter price — was for her room and board.
“Hello?” she called out once more, but again only silence answered her.
She found a fully appointed kitchen, the stainless-steel fridge full of soda, juice, and perishables, the cupboards stocked, the newest and best small appliances sitting atop granite counters. An intimate table sat in the dining room, the welcoming seats of the chairs covered with the expected light green fabric.
She saw a hallway and went down it, sure that it led toward the bedrooms, and instead encountered a set of open double doors with a soft light coming from the room behind them. Stepping inside, she froze.
She’d called out twice with no answer. But she now knew she wasn’t alone.
The figure took its time turning toward her, and the color drained completely from Jewell’s face. She’d almost have preferred some sadistic sheik to the man now facing her. This man’s eyes were hard and unreadable, his muscles tight. He looked ready to pounce, and her throat closed with nervous tension.
“Good evening, Jewell.”