Billionaire Auction by Brynn Paulin

 

Chapter One

Kendrick Bergana rubbed the tension out of the back of his neck. He had to do something with his palm. Otherwise, he might pull her scantily clad rear off the platform and spank the panties right off. How dare she…how dare she do this for her father?

He locked his jaw. Ultimately, he bore some of the blame for this mess. Moriah Cabraro had vowed she would pay him back every cent her father had embezzled from his firm.

But not like this. Not auctioning herself to the highest bidder. Not sweet, innocent Moriah. He had agreed to wait three days for the money, but that was for her father to honor, not her.

And damn her father for setting up this event, for allowing his daughter to sell her virginity to keep his own sorry ass out of prison. The moment Kendrick had learned of the theft, he should have called his lawyers and been done with it. But no, he’d confronted Jof instead while his daughter had been visiting him in his office. As threats were made, Moriah had cried—literally fallen to his feet and begged him not to have her father arrested.

Kendrick looked around in disgust. He had never attended an auction like this before. Of course, he also considered himself a fairly decent human being. He avoided events that allowed people in a position of financial power to take advantage of those who weren’t in such a position. No, he rather take money and assets from other billionaires, not desperate men and women needing money so badly they were willing to sell their virginity to one of these pricks.

As far as bidders were concerned, from those he recognized, her father had chosen well. These were some of Kendrick’s richest clients—and some of the most depraved men on God’s green earth. Men with too much money and too much time on their hands, and very little respect for women, much less sacrificial virgins willing to endure their lecherous passions for the right price. And many of these men would get their pound of flesh from her if they won the right to it.

There were at least twenty bidders, along with their assorted consorts. It looked like any other classy evening gathering he’d ever attended with his international clients at some remote mansion on someone’s private island. Only, it wasn’t. These men, and possibly even some of the women in attendance, were there to purchase a sordid weekend with Moriah, a certified “by three doctors” virgin.

Moriah stood tall like a regal queen, her nipples jutting through delicate white fabric. Her full breasts swept seductively under the thin, silky material whenever she moved. The plunging silk charmeuse gown showcased a slit so high that the part reached the curve of her hip, offering tantalizing glimpses of her matching panties. Diamonds sparkled around her neck and left wrist. Her dark chocolate hair, which she usually kept haphazardly in a messy bun or swept back in a ponytail, cascaded down her back in large, shiny tendrils against smooth skin like molten ganache.

Moriah was gorgeous. He always thought her beautiful, but her father had obviously insisted she dress up for the auction. Kendrick couldn’t imagine her wearing something so revealing of her own accord.

He’d known her since she was a teenager—met her when his father joined the firm. Usually, she was away at private school, a devout Catholic if he remembered correctly. He almost wished that were not the case. She might not be standing up there if she were sexually experienced like most women in their twenties. He figured she must have been saving herself for the man she’d marry and start a family with. Now, her desire to give her virginity to someone she loved would be wasted on some stranger as a sacrifice for her piece of shit father.

Honor thy father and thy mother, so the Bible read.

Jofre didn’t deserve to have such a loyal daughter. She was kind. She was patient. She was humble. Moriah was actually everything Jof was not.

“She must have taken after her mother,” Kendrick muttered under his breath then took of swig of whisky. “God rest her soul.” Anna had died from cancer a few years ago.

Kendrick was glad Anna wasn’t here to see this—or rather, he wished Moriah’s mother were still alive. She never would have allowed this to happen.

Jof, in his tuxedo, stood among a group of men in the parlor, laughing boisterously as if he weren’t about to sell his daughter’s purity to cover his debts.

At that moment, their eyes met. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since the confrontation. “Three days,” Kendrick had said before he’d stormed out of the office, ordering security to escort Jof off premises as he went down the hall. It had been late. After office hours. Jof had been spared the public humiliation, and instead transferred the burden of shame to his daughter.

Kendrick wondered what Jof told the auction attendees. Jof was a wealthy man in his own right—more so for having stolen money from the firm. But what reason could he give for offering up his innocent child as a virgin sacrifice?

Regardless of the excuse, it was obviously acceptable enough to bring in a crowd. Not that people like this cared much for reasons if it suited their own desires.

Jof excused himself from the parlor conversation and ventured over. Again, Kendrick’s hand itched to strike something. But rather than the flat of his palm on a firm rear, he wanted to connect his hard fist into the weak jaw of an unscrupulous jerkoff.

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

I bet you are.

After all, Kendrick hadn’t received an invite to this twisted soiree. When an overseas client had mentioned it offhand yesterday, he hadn’t even believed it. When he was able to get confirmation that this auction was really happening, Kendrick had made arrangements of a monetary type to guarantee he’d be allowed in under someone else’s invitation. He’d even managed to secure himself a bidding paddle upon arrival, which required his consent to an immediate on-the-spot blood draw. According to the contract he’d signed to participate in the auction, failure to pass the medical check negated the weekend’s fun. The winner would be out of a lot of money for nothing.

When Kendrick said nothing, Jof eyed the numbered paddle. “You plan to bid on your own cow?”

The fragile whisky glass broke in Kendrick’s grip even as his bloody hand snatched the bastard by his white dress shirt. “I ought to kill you myself, right here, for the piece of shit you are. Don’t you dare insinuate Moriah is up there because of me.”

Kendrick released his grip as the crowd’s attention diverted to both of them. Men with obviously concealed weapons moved closer. Jof held them off with a lift of his hand. It popped into Kendrick’s mind that he should reveal to everyone exactly what had transpired to lead to this night’s auction, but one look at Moriah had him biting his tongue. Her eyes were glossy bright under the chandelier’s light as if she might burst into tears at any moment. He wouldn’t humiliate her more.

Rather than expose her father for the scoundrel he was, Kendrick snagged a passing waiter’s towel and wrapped his injured hand. “The three-day grace period I agreed to was meant for you to return the money on behalf of your pleading daughter, not for you to sell her off to the highest bidder,” he bit out.

“Look, Ken, I didn’t steal—”

“Do not.”

“You’re overacting—”

Kendrick turned and walked away. If he didn’t, he might truly commit the murder he’d threatened moments earlier.

Determined to end this now, he strode over to where Moriah was on display, people parting before him like the Red Sea. “Excuse me,” he growled as two older men perused Moriah as if she were merchandise. “I need a moment with the lady.”

The men look ready to object but then noticed the blood-soaked linen wrapped around his hand. With a nod, they left.

“Moriah,” he said.

“Mr. Bergana.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” she whispered.

“No, you don’t. You can walk away right now.”

Her eyes welled. “No. I can’t. I agreed. I signed papers—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kendrick held out his hand to help her down.

“Moriah, dear, is Kendrick bothering you?” Jof, having already changed his bloody shirt, slithered up beside them. His expression said he was a concerned parent, but Kendrick knew him for the snake he was. “Or do you simply need something? Would you like some wine? Or something to relax you?” He waved over to the assortment of recreational drugs spread on a nearby coffee table where a group of younger men and women seemed to be partaking.

Lowering her lashes, she shook her head. “No, Daddy, I’m fine.”

“Well, then we should begin the auction momentarily. Ken, would you like to stay and bid?” He held out his arm to indicate some open seating across the room. “Or should I have the staff escort you out to…?” Jof smiled thinly. “How did you get here again?”

By staff, Jof meant the many bodyguards who were employed by the homeowners, and the large security detail that had arrived with the guests. This was a billionaire club, though not one he was normally part of. Here, like in his personal circle, everyone had enemies, and everyone had protection. Unlike with his more upstanding colleagues, everyone in attendance at this auction would side with Jof if they wanted to have a chance at winning Moriah. Kendrick would have no allies.

“I’m here to bid,” he assured quietly.