Wicked Liar by Faith Summers
Chapter Twenty-Two
Candace
Cynthia walks out on stage and people applaud.
She introduces girl number one who floats out in her elegant red gown as if she just stepped out of a dream.
The bids for her start at two hundred thousand and rise to a steady million very quickly. I'm so shocked I keep my eyes peeled to what she’s doing and more importantly to who’s bidding on her.
She’s sold to an elderly man for one point five million five minutes later. That was quick. Really quick. I never expected it to be that quick.
Girl number two goes on and within seconds of her arrival, it’s clear it’s time for the professionals to take over. The bra she took off earlier was just a prop she could use to throw out to the crowd who go wild, and the reason for the hair up in the bun wasn’t so she could show off her ass or copy Gigi. It was because she wanted to whip it out like an actual whip to start her show.
A striptease.
A striptease that involved not only the art of stripping out of the backless dress and down to her glorious birthday suit, which sends all the men into overdrive in their bids. But she brings it home by spreading her legs and touching herself.
I’m not sure how the people who are just here to socialize can stand it. Even Helen looks shocked, but the other women nearby just sit there watching like they see this sort of thing all the time. Some are even watching with their husbands.
I don’t know why I bother to be surprised. I’ve heard of women buying girls like these for their husbands on their birthdays, or a just because gift. It answers the question of what to get the person who has everything.
Two million dollars later and number two is sold to the English man in the front row.
Her show lasted for longer than the first girl by ten minutes. But only because the men kept outbidding each other.
What put me on edge was the way Jacques looked at her. Bastard, he wanted her. That tick in his jaw is a tell he did.
But it looks like he wants me more. As the English man walks up on stage to collect his winnings Jacques looks at me again. Curiosity heightens in his stare, along with a threat I’m wise enough to take heed of. He’s looking at me like I better make sure I was worth the wait.
The look intensifies when Gigi steps out on to the stage like she owns it.
Helen was right. The woman is acting like a queen.
Gigi walks to the center of the stage like she’s on the runway, but instead of modeling clothes, she’s displaying herself and showing off the masterpiece she is.
I envy her confidence. She doesn’t do any of what the first girls did because she knows she doesn’t need to.
The bid for her starts at one million, not the hundred thousands, and all she’s done is stand there. Moments later when she turns around and bends over right in Jacques' line of sight to show him her ass, I nearly, nearly think this plan of mine has gone to hell and I’ll be spending the next thirty days in the bed of one of these other men.
I almost believe it and accept my fate when he shuffles in his seat and gives her a candid smile.
But Jacques doesn’t bid on her.
The bids go up and up and up to three million, and stay there.
Going once, going twice and Gigi is sold to the man in the far corner that looks like a Russian mob boss.
I swear I might die from the anxiety this is causing me. It feels like it could kill me dead far quicker than anything else could right now. But I count my lucky stars Jacques is still sitting there waiting for me.
As Gigi is claimed and taken away, all eyes are still admiring her body.
Now it’s my turn.
I’m next.
I walk out on stage when Cynthia calls my name, my legs shaking, my heart beating so fast I feel it might beat out of my chest and run the mile I should be running away from this event.
Numbing nerves race over my body like fire fueled by gasoline.
I can feel Jacques stare on me like he’s already claimed me and has me in his bed.
I expected the bid to fall back to the hundred thousands, but when someone calls out from the far corner and bids a million dollars I realize I’m not unknown anymore. I’m not the Candace Ricci of the past who walked in the shadows. These men know who I am, and who I work for. As the bids go up, it doesn't escape me that they’d love to use me to get closer to the boss.
Or... maybe it's not that. Maybe it's because they really are bidding on me because they actually want me, and I'm worth it.
When the bid goes up to two million, I'm stunned, but panic stabs at me again because Jacques hasn’t raised his paddle. The knot in my stomach tightens, twisting tighter than a macramé.
Fuck… why isn’t he bidding on me?
What is he doing?
He stares at me with razor sharp eyes and I can almost see the workings of his mind. I can read him and the expression on his face is just like a few moments earlier.
He wants to make sure I’m worth it.
He already told me he wants me, so if I want him I have to play his game.
There isn’t a lot of things left for me to do. I’m wearing a barely there dress with nothing underneath but my panties.
There’s only one thing this man could want me to do, and if I want him to bid on me I have to do it. At lunch days ago, he wanted me to strip. It's clear from the lascivious look in his eyes that's what he wants me to do now. Asshole.
When the bids get to two point five million I look away from Jacques. My gaze hits the back of the wall and suddenly I don’t see anybody in the room anymore. Not Helen who was gazing at me with that adept curiosity watching how far I’ll go, and not Jacques who looks like that well-dressed predator again.
What I see is the thing I never want to see. The memory of my parents' deaths is never far from my mind. It’s always there lingering, waiting for me. All I need to do is press play and I see it all.
I see Papa begging for my mother's life as the flames licked over her body. I see Mom screaming, crying for him in pain. I see the man with the tattoo of the dagger on his arm cut off my father’s head in one swift motion. I see both my parents... dead.
The word on his tattooed dagger was Eternal. Yes, it was fitting because that memory will be eternal in my mind. Forever...
A tear escapes and slides down my cheek. Willing the other tears away, I slip the dress from my body. A gasp ripples over the crowd in the room as the fabric floats down my legs. Everyone shocked by what I did.
“Four million dollars,” Jacques says when the dress hits the floor, pooling at my feet.
That’s when I look at him but I can’t return the smile he gives me. That I-own-you smile is supposed to tone me down a peg or two. It’s supposed to cut me down like grass and show me who’s boss as his eyes peruse my naked body. Naked but for the thing layer of fabric that covers my pussy.
Four million is the highest anyone has bid tonight, and no one else is challenging him.
“Wow wonderful,” Cynthia beams into her microphone. “Going once, going twice--”
“Eight million,” calls out a voice from the back of the room and my gaze snaps wide first before I turn to see the owner of the voice.
When I do my mouth drops and nearly hits the floor. All the blood freezes in my body when Dominic walks out of the shadows. I'm so shocked to see him I’ve forgotten I’m standing here on stage topless for the world to see.
Dominic walks down the path dividing the rows and stops at the center of the room. Unlike everyone else, he’s not dressed up. He’s just wearing his black biker jacket that gives off that bad-ass attitude, a pair of Levi’s hung low on his hips, and a black t-shirt that shows off the wealth of muscles lining his abs.
He makes a point of giving me a long, hard look that captures and holds my attention.
I've known this man all my life. A two-year absence isn't going to dull my ability to guess what he's thinking and planning. After all, God knows I've spent enough time watching him. So I know from that look he's casting me that he's just found the way he vowed to find to win me back. The shock of the realization makes me gather my dress from the floor and cover my breasts.
“Eight point five million,” Jacques calls back, enraged.
“Ten million,” Dominic replies and walks closer to Jacques who now stands.
Dominic has his game face on. The face he shows those who cross him. Jacques regards him with the same expression.
If it wasn’t clear before that these two men do not like each other, it is now as they look like they're readying for war.
“Eleven,” Jacques smirks and Dominic laughs. I know when I hear that it’s game over for me.
"Twelve million," Dominic throws back and a rush of whispers ripple over the crowd.
Dominic just bid twelve million dollars for me. Twelve million dollars.
What was that he said yesterday?
He'd be the guy who will show me what I'm worth.
He's showing me now. He's definitely showing me, but conflict tears at my mind because I needed Jacques to win.
"Thirteen," Jacques throws back, and that's when I give up.
The only other man here who would never allow another to outbid him is standing in front of Jacques.
Two years. Dominic D’Agostino has been away for two years and he blows back into my life for one week and ruins my carefully orchestrated plans.
“Fifteen million,” Dominic roars and does exactly what I knew he'd do next when he pulls his guns from his back pocket and aims them at Jacques. “Go ahead Belmont, make my fucking day. Fucking do it. Outbid me. We can go all night if you want and bid every last coin in the bank, but you aren't having her. I'll kill your ass first. Piss on me and I will piss back. You come aboard my boat and challenge me for my girl? Clearly, you have a death wish.”
My God, this is a nightmare.
“Mon ami, it looks like we have a misunderstanding?” Jacques replies. The fact that he doesn’t look in the least bit phased by the sight of Dominic’s guns is a testament to the kind of man he really is.
I’m looking now and I’m scared.
“I don’t think so mon ami. I don’t have time for shit or misunderstandings. I’m always clear about what’s happening and what is not. So… if you want to impress me I think you know what to do. Capisce?”
The look in Jacques’ eyes at that comment is what shifts his mood and I realize they’re talking about something I’m not privy to.
When Jacques holds up his hands in surrender and a fake as hell smile inches across his face my head feels light and fuzzy.
“Capisce. She’s all yours,” Jacques announces, loud and clear. A quick glance at Cynthia who is stunned confirms he’s done bidding and my plan has gone to shit.
“Sold,” Cynthia announces, not bothering to announce that I’m going once or twice. I’m just sold.
Sold to Dominic D’Agostino for fifteen million dollars.
Now, what the hell does that mean?
Dominic lowers his guns, turns to face me and I meet his gaze. When he packs his guns away, he walks on stage, whips off his jacket, and throws it around me to cover me. Then like I’m a petulant child, he slips an arm around me and marches me away in the opposite direction.
I'm still in shock that he bid so much, and for me, and then there was what he said to Jacques. Dominic told him he couldn't have me. The shock has my head spinning. This is supposed to be the guy I could never have, yet he just treated me like some priceless possession. He came here and shocked the hell out of me.
But... how did he know I'd be here at the auction?
Rage suddenly grips me when the thought tumbles into my mind and I realize he was being classic Dominic and probably spied on me or some shit like that.
Damn him and damn me too for being enamored. This is not a good thing. Everything is a mess. How am I going to ask Jacques about Richard Fenmoir now? Fuck... I didn't even know how I was going to do it before, but I hoped the idea would have come to me as I got closer to Jacques.
I wait until we get to the bottom of the stairs before I pull away from Dominic.
“How dare you do this?” I snap.
The glare he gives me tells me to watch my tone.
“Are you kidding me? You and I have a lot to talk about,” he snarls. “What the fuck are you doing, Candace? What in the ever loving fuck are you doing?”
The question makes anger and embarrassment collide in my soul. A wave of heat cascades through me, thickening my blood. It makes my head feel light and scrambles the thoughts in my mind. I can't think of what to say to him to explain myself.
What in the ever loving fuck was I doing?
I was selling myself. That's what. Yesterday I told this man I couldn't be with him because I didn't want to be hurt ever again, and twenty-four hours later he found me on stage selling my body.
Suddenly, the clash of emotions makes me want to get away from him as fast as I can, regardless of feeling awestruck that he thought I was worth fifteen million dollars.
"Candace, tell me what the hell you were doing," he demands.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t answer to you,” I say foolishly as if that even matters. That is, however, what comes to my mind and falls from my lips.
I take exactly one step to the left and freeze mid-stride when I see Massimo standing right in front of us. Tristan is next to him.
“You answer to me,” Massimo reminds me, and all I can do is look up at him.
In my panties and heels, with Dominic’s jacket draped around my shoulders, I look like a cheap hooker holding a dress that was hardly passable for a dress. And I feel like one.
I feel like a whore.
Whore.
That word... it numbs me, and what I feel next reminds me of what I felt like in the past.
A whore.
“Go with Dominic. Now,” Massimo orders.
I glance at Tristan, and his face is even stonier than his brothers.
Humiliated, I turn back to Dominic. This time he doesn’t even take my hand.
When he motions for me to walk, I do.