Page 304 of Summer Heat
A shudder squeezes my body. I’m starting to understand what Candy meant about the push. His intensity, his demands. And what would be the pull? My acquiescence. No, she told me not to give in. Innocence and fragility and grace.
I lift my chin, meeting his eyes. “I have to take care of my father. Someone has to feed him, to wash him. Several times a day.”
Gabriel turns back to the window. “The buyer will pay for his care.”
“I can’t—” My voice breaks, and I suck in a steadying breath. I can’t afford to pay for a full-time nurse for a month, not after paying the tax bill and Damon’s percentage. What will we eat when it’s over?
“He’ll pay for his care,” he says, his tone hard. “On top of the auction amount.”
I take a step forward, strangely drawn to him. “Why would he do that?”
A large shoulder lifts. “The men down there have more money than they know what to do with. Whoever buys you, use him. Take what you need from him.”
In the window I can see his reflection, the bold features of his face. But I can’t read him. I could never read him. Is that part of the push Candy told me about? Or is that just the impenetrable mystery of Gabriel Miller? “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not your friend,” he says gently.
He’s my enemy. When we’re alone, it’s easy to forget that. In a few minutes we’ll be downstairs with the wealthiest men in the city, maybe even the state. Men who would purchase me like an object. Men who Gabriel taught a lesson by ruining my father.
“Fifteen minutes,” he says before leaving the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fifteen minutes feels like fifteen hours when you’re awaiting your fate. The dress that I’m to wear is diaphanous white, almost reminiscent of ancient Greek c
lothing. It makes me feel more like a sacrifice for the gods—or for the Minotaur in the maze.
I’m relieved that Candy has left undergarments as well—a white bra and matching panties, made of the same satiny material as the dress. At least if someone moves the dress aside, if Damon demands that I take it off, I’ll have something else to cover me.
Except if that were true, she wouldn’t have bothered to paint my nipples.
I pace the room, frustrated that I can’t ask her more questions, that she didn’t give me more direct answers. At this point I’d even take Gabriel’s company over the shameful silence.
A buzz comes from my small clutch, the one I planned to wear with my evening gown. Now I see how foolish that would have been, as if I were a guest at this party. No, I’m the main course.
The screen blinks with a new text message.
Avery, I need to talk to you.
My heart pounds. It’s Justin. I haven’t spoken with him since he broke up with me. There were some things I left at his apartment near campus, but none of that mattered once Daddy got hurt.
My fingers feel clumsy against the screen. I’m busy.
This is important, he writes. I miss you. I made a mistake.
Anger. Denial. Heartbreak. I felt all those things in the wake of his breakup. I have no idea how to handle this text weeks later, especially as I stand in the Den, about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
It’s too late, I type back.
Don’t say that. We can talk about this. Where are you?
Suspicion reaches for me like a cold, dark hand. I’m out. Where are YOU?
Your house, he says. No one is answering the door.
Oh my God, he’s at my house. In the listless days following the breakup I would have given anything to hear that knock, to see his face. To have him say that it was a mistake.
I can’t forget that Justin is a rich man, and unlike Harper, his trust fund isn’t tied up with a stingy stepbrother. No, he doesn’t need anyone’s approval—not legally. Though most of the time he asks his dad for advice. And his dad would have told him to drop me like a hot potato.
