the precious item we have for the highest bidder.”
An appreciative laugh rumbles through the crowd. I want to throw something.
“Please, let’s give a warm, appreciative welcome to Ms. Pierce.”
Briana steps through the doorway, wearing what can only generously be called a dress. It’s more like two strips of silk covering her breasts, wrapping around her waist, and tying over her hips. It covers the space between her legs and falls to the floor. She also has on black high-heeled Louboutins.
She looks like a goddess. For a second the hoots and the applause and the catcalls fade away. There’s only her in this room. And me. Her eyes meet mine, and my breath catches. God, she’s beautiful. A lily in a goddamn swamp because we’re not alone. No, there are a hundred other people in the room, each eager to suck and lick her, to make her suck and lick them. Some of them want to hurt her, to bruise her soft skin. My hands turn to fists. She steps onto the pedestal, exposing her inner thigh, revealing the shadow of her pussy. The collective crowd draws in a breath.
Then she’s standing two feet above everyone else, on display in every sense of the word.
Mr. Knapp looks like a little goblin next to a princess. “You can see she has assets that every fine collector would appreciate. I’m sure the connoisseurs among you recognize first-class merchandise.”
“Show us the goods,” someone shouts
I curse under my breath. At this rate there’s going to be a mob. If Mr. Knapp flashes her beautiful tits, they’re going to overpower him. They’re going to rape her right here in the ballroom, all two hundred of them. And then I’ll have to kill every single one with my bare hands.
CHAPTER FIVE
Briana
Shit.
As I stepped up onto the pedestal, my first goal was to not fall. The heat of the spotlight. The glass of wine in my otherwise empty stomach. The height of the high heels. They all work together, fighting against me.
What if I fell?
What would happen?
Would it save me or would I wake up as someone’s property?
I refused to search the crowd for Curtis. I told him what I thought of him when I left the cabin. He’d brought me here to Malaking Kuta, promising me the impossible as he begged for my help. And then, once we arrived, the reality became all too clear.
I’d been deceived.
Instead of being someone special to Curtis, he’d discovered that I could be more useful if he shared. No longer his fiancée—I threw that damn ring into the surf—I was simply a plaything his friends or even strangers were willing to pay to play with.
My mind swirled with the possibilities the night would hold.
Would I survive?
Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally.
What would be asked of me?
Would it be asked or demanded?
I scoured the crowded room. So many people, male and female. Laughing and nodding. Drinking and eating. This was a spectacle, and I was their focus. A rare statue or perhaps a painting to be assessed and scrutinized.
“Let us see more,” a man called above the din.
Some of the others agreed while others simply smiled.
Depraved was what they were. Not one person present appeared shocked or appalled by what was happening.
I lifted my chin in an attempt to look above their heads. I didn’t want to remember their faces or their grins. As I did, I found myself bound to an unexpected anchor—to a gaze that steadied me.
It was an unlikely tether, yet Cameron’s dark eyes on me were a mix of emotions.
Anger. No, more intense. Rage.
Impatience.
Annoyance.
While also predatory and determined.
And still, there were more.
Could it be desire?
Mr. Knapp’s voice barely registered. Even the calls from the crowd were muted under Cameron’s stare. With my chin held high, I found myself unable to look away. There was a strange sense of security as well as trepidation in the familiar dark eyes.
I was about to be sold, of that there was no doubt.
What if my fate didn’t land at the feet of a stranger but at Cameron’s feet?
Mr. Knapp reached for the silk wrap, pulling me back into the present and my gaze away from Cameron.
“Stop,” I said, pushing his hand away.
The crowd erupted in laughter. Not everyone. Cameron’s expression hardened.
“One million,” an older man called out. The woman on his arm nodded.
Did they expect a threesome?
“One million ten,” another man called.
My head snapped to Mr. Knapp. “Two million and I purchase myself.”