Chapter 5

Aurora

My throat is tight with nerves.

This thing I’ve been saving my entire life—my virginity—is up for grabs.

I feel sick, nauseated, and queasy.

This is not me, not who I am.

What the fuck am I doing here? I look over at my brother, who is in his usual drugged-out state.

“What is it this time, Anders? Are you high on weed, cocaine, alcohol? Or is it a mix of all of them?”

He glares at me through blood-shot eyes.

I can’t even believe he’s making me do this. In truth, I’m here by choice, but it’s his fault for blowing through all of mom and dad’s money on drugs. They’d be devastated to see him like this, just as I am.

That doesn’t change the fact that we’re on our way to the Billionaire’s Virgin Auction.

I rap my fingers nervously on my legs and count down the moments until we arrive.

“Aurora, you really need to relax,” Anders says for about the thirtieth time in the same car ride.

I know he’s trying to help. I do. But telling a nervous person to just relax is about the worst way to actually get them to ease up.

“Do you want to get up on a stage to bid off your virginity?” I snap at him.

“Ha! My virginity is long gone. And besides, none of those men would want to see a dude up there. I don’t know what you’re so concerned about. It’s not that big a deal,” he answers.

“Don’t make it seem like it’s not okay to be nervous. This is me; it’s my body and my life. This is something entirely new to me, and I could use some actual support or guidance instead of your bullshit,” I reply.

Anders is silent, and I peer at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his face. Then I look out of the window solemnly as the town car brings us to the event.

“I’m sorry, Aurora. I’m sorry for getting you into this mess and for pushing you so hard. I know it’s a big deal,” he admits.

“I know, Anders. Thank you,” I respond, and then I sigh. “We’re in this far already, and I’ve made up my mind. I’m going through with it.”

Our driver pulls up in the back alleyway of the venue.

“Here goes nothing,” I say.

I gather my Louis Vuitton bags full of makeup, clothes, hair products, shoes, and accessories.

I really didn’t know what to expect, so I basically threw a good portion of my closet into bags so I’d have options. Anders opens the door for me, and the person in charge shows us in at the back entrance.

Anders slides off to the auction room to find himself a seat while I inform the staff that I’m a participant in the auction. I’m guided to the dressing room.

As soon as I walk through the door, I’m greeted with a cloud of hairspray and the smell of burned hair and perfume. A couple of attendants grab my arms and pull me to an unoccupied chair.

I drop my bags to my sides once I’m seated and stare in the mirror as they immediately go in with a comb and start teasing my hair.

My nerves are starting to get the best of me again. My stomach is in knots, and my heart is just pounding in my chest.

I figure some other person in this room is nervous. They must be. They’re all virgins, too.

I peek around.

Everyone is talking to one another or talking with the stylists, and they’re all smiling and excited to get started with the auction.

The girl next to me is picking out her outfit. She holds it up to herself in front of the mirror.

“That would look amazing on you,” I say, in an attempt to be friendly.

She looks over at me and rolls her eyes, turning to her stylist and asking him to pick something else.

Ooookay. She’s not the one to chat with.

I look over to my other side. The woman in the seat is picking at her hair, moving individual strands around trying to make it perfect.

“Your hair looks great! It really frames your face,” I compliment her.

She gives me a look that makes me feel like I’m an idiot for even speaking to her.

As I continue to look around the room, I have a subtle realization: no one in here is going to talk to me.

I am, without a doubt, the prettiest girl in the room. And these women all hate me for it.

I stare straight ahead for the next few minutes in silence, tears pooling in my eyes. I’m so fucking nervous.

“Are you okay, hun?” my hair and makeup stylist asks.

I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye.

“Honestly, I’m just so nervous. I don’t know what to do,” I admit.

“Well don’t be, sugar. You’re a gorgeous lady, and you’re gonna knock this out of the park!” she says, trying to reassure me.

“I appreciate it,” I lie.

As conceited as it sounds, I know I’m going to do well after seeing the other girls lined up. But it doesn’t take the pressure off at all.

The wardrobe attendant rushes over a skimpy little bodysuit by Agent Provocateur. It’s sheer and lace, covering just the most teasing areas.

“This? I’m wearing this?” I ask.

“Try it on. Let’s make sure it fits right,” the wardrobe attendant says.

I take off my clothes and slip into the bodysuit. I look into the mirror and am immediately struck with confidence. I look fucking hot.

I have curly, long locks of hair. Half of it’s extensions, but whatever. It looks good.

The body suit covers my nipples with black lace but shows off the shape of my breasts. The entire torso is sheer. The bottom is black lace just over my pussy, but sheer right up to it. I turn around to see a perfect lace tease line over my ass as well.

“Hell yeah, girl!” the wardrobe attendant says. “You’re going to rock it. Just make sure your dancing is on point!” she adds before she walks off.

“Dance?!” I shout. “I can’t dance.”

In a panic, I immediately whip out my phone and text Anders. I’m so shaken up I don’t hear the announcement for the line-up. My nice hair stylist guides me into place while I try to plead my way out to my brother.

I want to leave. I’m supposed to dance, and I just can’t. Let’s go.

Don’t be such a chicken. You’ll be fine.

As I go to reply, the organizer for the event comes through. He’s touching the hand of just a few girls and having them step forward as he makes his way down the lineup.

He stops at me and just stares for a moment. I give him a brief smile, trying to hide my nerves, and he pulls me out of the line and spins me around.

“This one,” he says. “This is the winning ticket for the night this year.”

“What does that mean?” I ask him.

Two attendants bring over a golden tiara and place it on my head. I touch it and look up as they situate it before returning my focus to the organizer.

“Your bid is going to start higher than the others. We’re going to open you at a million and max at a billion,” he explains. “No one has ever reached the billion, though.”

There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll make enough to save the company tonight, but there’s no way I’d get a full billion dollars. Having the bid start so high is going to work well in my favor, which is great, because my knees are wobbling so hard from nerves that I feel like Bambi right now.

I zone out as we walk backstage. I’m entirely on auto-pilot. I’m so busy worrying that I’m not paying any attention to what’s going on around me.

Before I know it, I’m pushed from the back and onto the stage. I look out and throw my hands up over my face, trying to block the blinding light.

As my eyes adjust, I realize the music has started and the auctioneer has started the bidding. I move in very simple, hard to fuck-up moves. The bids are coming in left and right.

There’s so much noise in the room. The auctioneer, the paddles swiping through the air, the music…I’m feeling so overwhelmed.

But then I hear a bid of five hundred million dollars. I don’t need to focus on anything but dancing right now. The money is coming in regardless, and I just need to look sexy.

I tune out the auctioneer and the paddles and focus on the music. I find my own groove and start swaying and moving in ways I never thought I could.

No man has ever even seen this much of my body. And now the first image anyone has is me rolling my hips, grinding the air. I feel so empowered, and I just get lost in the music and dance my sexy ass off as the bidding continues.

I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never wanted everyone’s eyes on me. Hell, even as a kid, I constantly just wanted to be in the background.

But not today. Not right now.

This is easily the best experience of my adult life, and I don’t want it to end.