Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,278

The sadness in her pale eyes is something that haunts me even till this day. How could my father not see it?

He’ll never admit it, but I know she killed herself. He wouldn’t let her leave. I remember the fights, the screams. That’s what I remember most, even if I always had my eyes closed tight and my small hands over my ears. I’ll never forget the way they’d raise their voices until I knew it must have hurt them.

I’d hide in the closet of my room whenever it happened. I stare at the small crack in the marble slab of her tombstone.

I never understood why they hated each other so much. Why they enjoyed hurting each other with their words. They must’ve; fighting was all they ever did.

My eyes settle onto the line, “doting mother.”

I think children have to love their mother. It’s something in them that’s biological. It must be so, because I know I love her. Even without a single memory of her gentle touch or soothing words. I haven’t a single one. The nannies were there for me when I was young. But they came and went like a merry-go-round. They got too attached.

The only constant was the fighting between my parents, and when that came to a halt with her death, there was only silence for a short time. And then my father started with me.

“One mistake and you’re ruined,” he’d tell me all the time. I was to be perfect. Just like my mother was supposed to be.

I was good where my mother failed. I enjoyed charming people. I liked getting a reaction from them. I liked for them to see the boy I wanted to be, and not the hollow shell I became.

It’s less amusing now, but it’s vital to my survival.

Father taught me well.

My phone pings with a message at the thought and I’m slow to pull it out, even though my fingers are already wrapped around it.

When I finally take my eyes from the tombstone to look at it, a text from my father stares back at me.

Dinner on the 7th for the gala. You need to be there.

A grunt leaves me and I roll my eyes as I ignore it. I already know about the event. I’ll be there just like I always am.

“He’s still the same,” I tell my mother as if she can hear me. I don’t even remember why I came today. Some days just take me here. Usually when I’m not paying attention, or looking for a moment to think.

My father needs me now more than ever. As he grows old and his influence is waning, he’s relying on me to a greater extent. I don’t mind it. In my mind, I’ve always needed to step up. If only I had back then.

But this constant bitching and reminding me is unnecessary. I swipe away the text.

I nearly shove my phone back into my coat pocket, ready to shield my bare hands from the wind, but the picture of her is on my screen. Arianna Owens.

And with those gorgeous eyes staring back at me, I’m reminded of the last thing I care to remember. My mistake. Danny Brooks. I stare at my phone in my hand, the dim glow lighting the darkened sky. Isaac looked her up and gave me her information. Arianna Owens. I suppose in a way, she reminds me of my mother. There’s a sadness there. Something that haunts her. She makes me feel like she needs to be saved.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling ridiculous. “This is your fault,” I say out loud, my voice drowned out by the harsh gusts of the wind.

She’s beautiful, but her gorgeous eyes are haunted by something, darkened by what lies behind them.

I’m still enraged that Brooks offered me a month with her in exchange for a debt of hundreds of thousands that he owes me. The only claim he has to her is the collar around her neck.

My dick hardens at the thought of her on her knees, giving herself to me, pleasing me. I’ve been tempted before at the club, though I’ve never taken part. At least not in the open like that. These men are foolish to show their cards. My good friend Lucian paid the price years ago. Although now it’s paid off for him, the burden of his past only goes to show that NDAs are nothing more than paperwork. They have no loyalty to them, merely sheets of paper;