5. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Devon

Present day…

I reread the email for the hundredth time, still unable to believe I’ve been accepted to the auction at Club Lust. But there it is in black and white, right on my phone screen.

I am pleased to announce you have been selected to participate in the Night to Remember Auction…

My father would lose his head if he found out. My brother too. Which is why they will never know. I didn’t tell a single soul about being selected—not only because they made me sign an NDA, but because I need to do this for myself. I don’t want to hear anyone’s opinion on it; don’t want any voices in the back of my head to tell me what I’m doing is wrong.

I need this.

So, instead, I begged my best friend, Summer, to cover for me. We came up with a story about going away for the weekend. Something I had to beg for because my father rarely allows it. But I caught him when he was distracted and used just enough words that I wasn’t lying.

Summer hassled me about telling her what I was up to the entire time we planned our “trip”, until finally I admitted I’d signed an NDA and legally couldn’t. I knew that would only make her worry more—which it did—but she stopped asking what I was doing, and instead turned into a mother hen and went on and on about how I better not be doing anything dangerous. Which I’m not… right? The men at this place have been vetted. I’m sure they’re harmless.

Summer’s problem is that she used to be the party girl. She’s done all the crazy things, so she’s aware of what I could get up to. Even though she’s a mom now and hasn’t seen the inside of a club in years, she’s not stupid. The last four or so years of her life haven’t been easy. When her parents found out she was pregnant, they kicked her out. No questions asked, no excuses accepted. She was out on her ass at just twenty. And though I understand her worries, she needs to let me do my thing. The last thing I need from Summer is for her to turn into an overbearing worry-wart like Dad and Dane.

Not going to this auction will ruin my plan to leave this house, and it’s the only plan I have. For months, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get out of my family’s death grip, and every road was a dead end. Until this auction fell into my lap.

It’s not that I don’t love my family—I do. I love my brother and father dearly. But I’m twenty-three and I’m tired of feeling like a caged animal. Dad tells me I’m not ready to be on my own. Dane, my twin brother, agrees with him. But they’re just overprotective boys who don’t know what they’re talking about. I’m sure there are plenty of things I don’t know about life, but that’s their fault. They don’t let me experience things; don’t let me live. I’ll learn all I need on the way. All they’re doing for me is setting me up for failure. The longer I stay here, the more I’m hurting myself and the future I could have.

When Summer was kicked out of her house, she picked herself up. Why can’t I do that? She didn’t have a single thing but the clothes on her back. Now she has a steady job, her own apartment, her daughter is in daycare, and they’re happy. Sure, there were many crying-fests and panic attacks along the way, but she’s good now. I’m prepared to go through a rough patch if it means coming out better in the end.

Summer doesn’t regret a single thing, either. It sucks she doesn’t have her parents’ support, but she has her own family. She and Astrid have a good life. And I’ve babysat her many times! I think if I can handle watching a baby, I can handle anything. Yet both Dad and Dane still think they need to set rules like I’m six. Though Dane is my brother, he acts like a second father—as if being a handful of minutes older than me matters.

I read the email again, and the excitement has me smiling ear-to-ear.

In the email, they refer to me as merchandise.

It shouldn’t make me smile, but it does. Being referred to anything other than “my baby girl” or “little sis” is a freaking relief, even if the term could be considered derogatory. I’m ready to be looked at as something more than a fragile child. I should be regarded as the woman I am .

It’s likely my father and brother’s issue is that my mother died when I was ten, and they’re afraid of losing me too. I get it. I don’t like the thought of losing my brother or my father. But I’m not her. I won’t be reckless the way she was. I know drinking and driving is dangerous, not only for me, but for other people. My mother made a stupid decision. One that cost not only our family, but two others. It was terrible and it’s always in the back of my mind when I have a choice to make.

But my brother thinks just because I don’t talk about what happened to my mother, that I don’t know what she did was wrong. That I’m just blowing it off as something silly, when that is so far from the truth. It’s just that thinking about it hurts—it hurts a lot. And what happened happened … I can’t change it. I need to move forward because my mother would not want me miserable for my entire life over a bad choice she made. I’ve accepted that my mother is gone. I’ve chosen to move on. Why am I being punished for that? It doesn’t mean I loved her any less, it just means I respect myself enough to give myself a good life and not spend it wallowing in her tragic shadow.

“What are you doing?”

I shut off my phone screen by the side button and shove it into the waistband of my bicycle shorts. The surge of panic that hit me over realizing I’m not alone is quickly overtaken by rage when I process who it is that spoke.

“Nothing,” I say cockily.

Tatum scowls.

Did I mention he’s an asshole?

“Bullshit. You were staring at your phone like you won the lottery. ”

I scoff. “It’s none of your business.”

I go to the fridge because I want something sweet. It’s why I came down here in the first place.

“Don’t you ever wear clothes?” he complains, his voice sounding right behind me.

Why is he so close?

I look down at what I’m wearing and spin around. He’s right there, just a few feet away.

“I am wearing clothes, thank you very much. Expensive ones at that.” I hold my chin up, challenging him to keep going.

Tatum hates when I argue with him. He’d prefer I lie down and take the verbal lashings he gives me over everything and nothing. He’s worse than my brother and father combined. Yet he so charmingly hides it from them, and I won’t rat him out because it’ll only make me look like a brat. Dane would never believe me, even though he’s aware of our history. His precious best friend can do no wrong in his eyes. It’s pathetic.

“How much could that flimsy fabric cost? I can see your fucking camel toe.”

I grind my teeth together, fuming.

Few people get under my skin, but Tatum sure does. Even when he’s not trying to, he somehow irks me to the point of wanting to punch him in his stupidly symmetrical face. The way he acts toward me used to hurt because we used to be best friends too. But then one day, everything changed. I tried to fix it, then gave up, then tried fixing it again, until I finally called it quits. I’d cried myself to sleep one too many times over him. One day I woke up, and I was just… done. Seems that’s the day he went from annoyed to downright spiteful. As if he wanted me to chase him for the rest of our lives. Well, newsflash, Tate, that’ll never happen.

I don’t have time for him.

I have a life to live.

A plan that involves me getting far away from here. From him. Dane. My father. This house. All of it.

The money I get from the auction will be more than enough to start a new life. Plane ticket. House. Furniture. A whole new wardrobe. A car! I’m so excited about having a car that’s solely in my name, with no tracker in it. Dad bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday, but with it came a hundred more rules. Some that aren’t even worth using it. The only time I do is to visit with Summer and Astrid.

I step closer to Tatum. The mix of annoyance and confidence I’m feeling is dangerous. Tatum is like a bomb and I’m the switch. Though I’ve seen ugly parts of him, it’s nothing compared to what he hides away. And I know just how to push his buttons. One of these days, I’m going to push the wrong one.

I stop inches from him and look up, refusing to be intimidated by his size difference. Not only in height but build too. Tate’s body has always reminded me of Alexander Skarsgard’s, to which I have zero complaints. Though they look nothing alike anywhere else because Tate is tan with dark hair and has the deepest chocolate eyes. It’s a shame that such an attractive person has to be such a terrible human.

“You’d be lucky to see my camel toe, Tato.”

His hand is around my throat before I realize what’s happening. He forces me backwards until I’m against the fridge doors. The stainless steel is cold against my exposed skin, causing me to hiss and flinch away, but Tatum’s body is hot against my front. I’m suddenly regretting wearing nothing but bicycle shorts and a sports bra—and not because of the coldness behind me but being able to feel Tatum… it’s dangerous.

When I snap out of the shock, I grip his wrist and try to pull it off because I can hardly breathe.

“What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?” he seethes in a low tone.

He told me a lot of things about calling him that. Mostly not to.

I open my mouth to plead for him to let me go, but words won’t come out. Nothing will come out. I dig my nails into his wrist, but he squeezes tighter—fully cutting off my airway. I wiggle and try to shove him off with my arms, elbows, knees, but he’s bigger than me. Stronger. I can’t get free. My head is getting heavy and foggy. Darkness seeps into the corners of my eyes—I think he’s going to kill me.

Tate has been cruel to me for years, but murder? Is he really going to choke me to death? Will he ruin his own life over the anger he has towards me?

He’s never been physically violent before. Not like this. A shove here and there. Tugging on my hair. Stupid things. Harmless things. But death ? Tatum has never gone so far to inflict lasting injuries. At least not to anything other than my heart.

I’ve never felt panic like this before… never .

“T-t—”

With one last surge of adrenaline, my vision nearly completely dark, I pull my hand back and slap him as hard as I can. It does nothing.

So, I pull out the big guns and go in with my nails because it’s all I have left. I must get him good because he lets go of my throat and steps away with a curse. I fall to my knees, my hands around my throat as I suck in air. My head is pounding, my lungs burning.

“You’re going to regret that,” he spits out just before his heavy footsteps echo on the tile. Eventually it turns to silence, and I fall to the floor, curling into the fetal position.

Thank god the auction is tomorrow, and I will finally be free.