Selling Scarlett (Love Inc 1)

“Bidding might get intense, but you’ll only see the numbers. These things usually don’t last but ten minutes or so.”

I nod, still feeling totally panicked that Marchant Radcliffe—Marchant Radcliffe, Hunter’s best friend, who knows my family—is here, and he knows what I’m doing. I tell myself it was inevitable, but I still feel nauseated.

He must misinterpret my anxious look, because he steps a little closer, sticking one hand in the pocket of his pinstriped coat. “You’ll be okay. Everyone I know who’s bidding is good people. I wouldn’t put you in bad hands.”

I don’t know what to say, so I nod. “You look great, you’ll do great,” he says as he pats the bed. “No more than ten minutes, Scarlett.” He winks, and then he’s gone.

My muscles tremble as I try to keep my pose. I’m lying on my side, with my legs slightly scissored and my hand propping my head up. My fingers are threaded through my hair so it falls around my right shoulder.

I’m staring at the digital ticker near the ceiling, feeling like I might have a panic attack, when the door bursts open and I gasp.

It’s everyone. Not just a few, but all the escorts. Loveless is out in front, and she presents me with a little velvet box. She pops it open, and two beautiful, glittery diamond earrings wink at me.

“Surprise!” everyone shouts.

Loveless leans down. “I’ll put them in your ears. Just hold your pose, girl.”

As she puts the earrings on me, I feel a sense of total peace. And okay, it evaporates as soon as they leave the room and a little speaker on the bed tells me I’d be live in two minutes. But before that moment, I feel valued and loved. Here in a brothel.

The ticker clock—a huge digital clock mounted up near the crown molding—has big, red numbers, and as they inch closer to zero, I can feel my throat constricting like I might be sick. I focus on taking deep breaths and think about Dr. Bernard and how many good things have happened to me here. I feel older. Wiser. More capable. I can do this.

Then the ticker reaches zero, and the windows surrounding my bed change subtly in hue—getting a little paler. This means people sitting outside the room can see me. I forget to breathe for a second, but then I smooth my mouth into a small, coy smile.

When the first bid flashes across the ticker, I nearly die.

$50,000, just like Marchant said. That’s a lot of money.

The numbers quickly jump.

$80,000.

$100,000. Oh my freaking God.

$140,000.

$150,000.

$200,000.

$300,000. I feel dizzy, and it’s hard to keep the shock off my face. With focus, I manage to keep my mouth twisted into that neutral/coy look, and keep my diaphragm in action. You can do it, Lizzy. Just a little longer. There is absolutely no way the bidding will go higher than three-hundred grand.

$400,000.

I want to barf, but I try to stay in pose as the light shines warmly on my body. I tell myself again it’s almost over. Then the ticker moves again.

$3,000,000. I’m shaking.

$3,200,000. This has got to be a joke.

$3,400,000.

Holy Moses.

$5,200,000.

$5,500,000. The hand inside my hair has clenched into a fist.

$5,900,000.

$6,000,000. The room spins around me.

$10,000,000.

This cannot be real.

I’m gasping for air as the windows grow darker, darker, darker still until I know I’m alone again. I bolt up, swinging my legs off the side of the bed and gasping at my chest. Oh my God, I can’t believe what I’ve done. I sold my virginity. I can’t believe anyone paid $10 million for it.

I’m not sure I can do this.

I can’t do this!

I’m not worth that much. Maybe after a few rolls in the hay, but not now. I don’t even know how to do this.

I’m almost in tears as I pull the covers over myself and Richard strides in. His eyes are wide. “I can’t believe it. No offense, I thought you’d do well, but…” He shakes his head and laughs. “You’re set for life now, sweetheart.”

I smile weakly, because if I don’t smile, I’m going to start sobbing. “Is it...someone decent?”

I mean who bought me, and Richard gets it. He hands me a small, white card with the winning bidder’s name printed in gold script. My heart really does stop this time.

Hunter West

Chapter 21

Elizabeth

“I CAN’T DO this.”

I’m sitting in a black velvet armchair, and Marchant Radcliffe is again standing in front of me. We’ve moved into a private room, one with no windows of any kind. I’m wearing a black silk robe, and I’m shaking slightly as I try to come to terms with what just happened.

Marchant shakes his head, looking annoyed. “I’ve already taken the bid.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to back out.” I don’t want to back out. What I want is to disappear, right down to my ten million dollar atoms.