Wicked Liar by Faith Summers

Chapter Twenty-One

Candace

Helen and I have just boarded the Bel Montov, one of the many yachts the D’Agostinos own. This is where tonight's Decadent Auction will take place. I have half an hour before it starts.

Breathe…

I can do this.

I will do this.

Sure, I imagined being nervous, but what I feel now is something else entirely.

The word betrayal comes to mind when I think of Dominic. I haven't forgotten what he said to me, nor the seriousness in his eyes as he vowed to find a way to win me back. A pang of guilt hits my heart the second I remember. Guilt has weighed heavily on me since I walked away from his door.

Forcing the memory away, I whisper silent prayers to whoever will listen. Whoever knows how much I want answers and justice for my parents' deaths. Whoever knows this is the only reason I’d consider selling my soul to the dark side after everything that happened to me.

“Wow, this is so nice,” Helen beams, cutting into my prayer. She looks around with an appreciative smile. “They really went all out this year.”

As we take the steps to the upper deck, we marvel at the crystal chandeliers that greet us.

“Yes, it’s really beautiful,” I agree.

My heels sink into plush cream carpet when we reach the hall that's been set up for the ladies taking part in the auction. Ahead is a long buffet table with finger foods, wine, and a bartender making cocktails. To our left is a bigger hall where the auction will take place. Soft jazz music plays in the background, creating the perfect ambiance.

Everything is beautiful. I just wish I were here under different circumstances.

The D’Agostinos always have yacht parties, but I’ve never attended any, or been on a yacht this size. Or, this elegant.

All the boats I’ve been on were for fun, as in for fishing or just cruising around on the open sea to explore the waters.

This though is the way the other half live. I purposely stayed away over the years because of the sorts of people who attend. I guess it goes back to that saying about a person’s roots. They’ll always go back to them in some kind of way.

I haven’t considered myself as poor for many years thanks to the D’Agostinos. I have enough money and it’s been that way for a long time. I just don’t blend well with the rich or those from high society. It’s almost like they look at me and can tell I’m new or rather that Giacomo D’Agostino took pity on me. In other words, I was his charity case. I know that wasn’t how it was, but that didn’t stop people from thinking it. Everybody knew who the D’Agostinos were, even when they had nothing, and people always knew the Riccis as a servant family.

We make our way over to the buffet where several of the participating women have gathered with their guests. Like me, they're wearing a little gold bracelet around their left wrist. As we approach, I get a few dirty looks cast my way. A few of the girls even start whispering. I'm sure that's of course because I’m number thirty-one and used my connections to jump ahead to the single digits. Normally, I would accept my fault, because I am in the wrong , but tonight I don't care.

Tonight all I care about is securing my bidder. I signed the final contract last night before I went to bed. They do the contracts in two parts, so you can change your mind about participating right up until you sign that final agreement. After that, the deal is sealed on your end. It means you agree to be some rich bastard’s dark, wild fantasy.

“Let’s grab some wine,” Helen suggests, noticing the attention we're getting. She picks up two glasses of red wine and hands one to me.

“Thanks.”

“No worries. I suggest you get a few in to take the edge off. You look nervous. Looks like the bitches are out tonight with extra claws.” She shoots daggers at a redhead staring me down from across the room. The woman looks away and continues talking to her friend.

"My God, look at the stir I've caused." I wince with a nervous smile.

“Fuck them, they wish they were you.”

I laugh. I can't imagine anyone wishing they were me. “God, thanks. And thanks again for doing this for me, and for coming with me.”

“Of course, as if I was going to miss this. Besides, Adam is going to be away for the whole weekend. I had to get my thrill from something." She chuckles.

I like it when she talks about Adam. It's funny watching her try to tamp down how serious they are about each other.

"He just told me to make sure I'm not the one on stage." She grins.

"Nope, it's me."

"It is you and you look amazing.” She looks over my dress and nods with approval.

I feel elegant and beautiful in this dress. It's a gold backless dress with a very deep v-line. The slits on the sides show off my long golden legs. The rest shows off everything else. It’s everything I’m not. Designed to distract and show off my finest assets, it’s a win-win and I know it will be a winner with Jacques.

“Thanks.”

"Just try not to look so nervous. These girls are just afraid of the competition. Some of them live for auctions like these and make their yearly income with one month’s work,” Helen states, emphasizing the word work.

“Really?” I can’t help but look and feel surprised.

“Yes," she bubbles.

She's about to say something else when we both see a woman in a see-through dress enter the room. Our mouths fall open. Christ, she's actually naked.

With no panties or a bra on underneath the sheer material, she has everything on show. Everything as in the massive triple D breasts that were obviously surgically enhanced and her ass too.

Her body looks like a cross between Kim Kardashian's and Pamela Anderson's, and she’s purposely piled her platinum blonde hair on top of her head in a messy bun so she can keep the focus on her body.

The award for getting everyone’s attention hands down goes to her.

“That’s Gigi Metrostov, number three,” Helen says under her breath.

“Number three?” I rasp. Panic clenches my chest.

“Uh huh.”

“Number three, as in before me? I’m four.”

“Yeah.”

As if on cue in this fucked up plan of mine I glance over to the other hall and see Jacques talking with another gentleman dressed in a tux. Jacques' eyes are all over Gigi, and she sees him too.

If she’s before me and looks like that, I’m going to have to think of a way to up my game. But how low am I willing to go?

“That's what you call desperate much, or the queen,” Helen sneers.

I’m going with the latter because of the filthy look Gigi gives me when she looks my way and her ice-blue eyes flick down to my gold bracelet. She looks me over, assessing me, then turns her nose up like I’m shit she's trying to avoid stepping in.   

Jesus Christ... wow. Oh, how I wish I were curled up on my sofa watching a film. These women here aren't just bitches, they're sharks. Gold diggers.

When I return my focus to Jacques, he’s not there anymore. He didn’t even acknowledge me.

“Don't mind her,” Helen mutters, clearly trying for a pep talk. She saw Jacques looking at Gigi too. "He's been after you for weeks. Don't worry."

"I'll try not to."

I know I didn't think this through, and it's crazy because Jacques could decide to be a prick and go for the naked woman. That could leave me at the mercy of someone else.

My God, what the hell would I do if that happened?

Helen starts talking about Adam to distract me. She talks about her vacation plans for the next two weeks and I try to listen, but I barely hear a word she says. My heart hammers in my chest and my nerves buzz with worry over tonight going to hell.

All sorts of things race through my mind, and panic sets in.

I hardly have the time to freak out properly, though, because fifteen minutes later an elegant lady who reminds me of Dolly Parton summons me and the other auctionees. With a wish of luck, I leave Helen and follow the woman as she takes us into a room in the back that looks like a dressing room.

“Hello everyone,” she beams with a dazzling smile. “I am Cynthia. The host for tonight’s auction. We’re about to start and I wanted to wish you luck. Remember, tonight is about fun. There’s also no harm in making some spare change along the way.”

While everyone laughs at the joke, I offer a smile.

“If no one has questions, let’s get ready. I need numbers one to five to be ready to go on stage in five minutes, so do your last minute preps now.” She claps her hands in delight.

The women in front of me start fixing themselves. Number One takes her hair down. Number two takes off her bra so she can show off her breasts more and wraps her long black hair into a bun so she can show off the back of her dress and her ass. Number five pushes up her breasts in her push-up bra so she can draw attention to her deep cleavage.

Gigi, however, casts me another dirty look and I just stare back at her. Neither of us has anything to fix.

“Okay, let’s go,” Cynthia calls out and we follow her.

We go up a set of stairs that lead onto the stage. From where we stand we can see the hall filled to the brim with men in the first few rows of seats, all have bidding paddles.

The rest of the seats to the back are taken up by men and women who are just here to support the event and enjoy socializing at the after-party.

I can see Helen in the back row, but she can’t see me. Then I see Jacques. He’s in the front row and he’s looking straight at me.

A nervous shiver skates down my spine and skids to a stop as those eyes of his take me in with desire. Victory attempts to push its way through my nerves because I have his attention again, but there’s also a cold, dark edge to him that reminds me of a snake. I remember what he said to me, and how I'd have to use my mouth to get what I want.

I'm grateful when Cynthia's voice opening the auction severs our stare.