This Is War, Baby - K Webster Page 0,25

from a loudspeaker at the stage. “So for tonight, I will announce the women in the program and they will each take a walk across this stage. If you’re interested, please come to the front and place your bids via a slip of paper into the black box that has that woman’s name on it. All bids will be sorted and determined shortly after the last lady walks across. Let’s be gentlemen about this. However, please be generous in your bids as some of the competing ones will surely be substantial. There will be no opportunities for bidding wars as we’ve had in the past. Good luck, sirs.”

I turn to see Gabe scowling. His jaw clenches in fury. For a moment, I hope he’ll give up and take me back home. But then I recall the way he shoved that cucumber into my body. The many times he’s struck me. On more than one occasion made me bleed. The humiliation he loved to deliver. The painful anal sex over and over again. Everything about my time with him was sick and perverted. The fiery burning hate I have for him will never be extinguished. Ever.

“Number One, Daisy Love.”

My attention is drawn to the podium where the announcer has called the first name. The crowd buzzes as a woman, probably nineteen or twenty, shyly walks the stage in her sparkly evening gown, high heels, and forced smile. Her dark hair has been twisted into a chignon and she’s pretty enough to be walking a runway instead of a path to slavery. Several men hurry to the first box and start scribbling bids. She’s beautiful and seems strong despite our situation. Of course every man would want her.

I watch with growing anxiety as many women cross the stage. All with some variation of rose, lily, or daisy. They’re all wilted in some way. Broken and abused—all hidden behind makeup and pretty hair. When I’m called, I flinch.

“Number Seventeen, Gardenia Lee.”

Gabe pats me on the bottom, rather forcefully, and I stumble toward the stage. All eyes are on me as I climb with wobbly legs up the steps. Anxiety threatens to rip apart my chest and the zucchini goat cheese tart rumbles in annoyance in my belly.

I clutch onto the side rail for support and attempt to keep my shaking at bay. I can do this. Just count the steps—no more than twenty is all it takes to make it across. Don’t look at them. Just go.

One.

Two.

I mouth each step, cast a nervous glance at the crowd, and keep walking.

Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

“Slow down there, Gardenia Lee,” the announcer says with a wolfish grin. “Take a spin for me. You’re quite lovely. I’d like to have you for myself.”

My eyes dart from him to the crowd growing around my box—probably forty men all milling about putting in their bids. Bile rises in my throat and I spin quickly before him. Then, I’m back to counting my steps to the other side.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

I stare for a moment down at my feet. Just seventeen. Only seventeen steps, not twenty. I frown and make my way down the stairs. My mind reels with what-ifs.

What if an abusive man buys me?

What if a man buys me to kill me?

What if he wants to do more depraved things than Gabe?

What if Gabe is lying and he never comes back?

At this point, my mind is conjuring up nightmarish predictions that have Gabe seeming like an innocent boy in comparison. Truth is, in this room full of smiling, successful people, I’m terrified out of my mind. On shaky legs, I clamber down the steps of the stage in search of Gabe. He’s the monster in my life—but he’s the one I know—the one I’m familiar with.

“I bid one point two million,” an amused voice says from beside me.

I jerk my gaze over to a man who reminds me of Brandon. His dark hair is cut short and spiked on top. He has an easy, charming smile.

“That’s a lot of money,” I squeak out.

He winks. “That it is. And you’ll be worth it.”

I chew on my lip and cast another glance out in Gabe’s direction. Nowhere. My gaze falls back to the man who seems harmless in his nice suit and disarming grin.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

He steps toward me. “And so polite. You’ll be a great addition to my girls.”

“You have more than one?”

“I come here every month and buy more. It’s