Chapter 1

Caleb

Buzz. Buzz.

I roll over in my bed, and everything is still dark from the blackout curtains across my floor-to-ceiling windows. Slapping my hand around my bedside table, I finally locate the phone, which has almost vibrated itself onto the floor. It's daytime, but it's also my day off, which is something I rarely take and guard with my life when I do. Why the hell is someone interrupting the first good stretch of sleep I've gotten in months?

The tech business where I'm a partner is hectic, and I constantly have to work hard to prove myself since I'm not the majority shareholder yet. And I'm fine with that. I love everything to do with computers, despite looking like a cowboy who's just wandered in off the range. We've got a lull between contracts and I've taken a much deserved two days off to do nothing but sleep. Interrupting me is not a good idea, and now someone's about to be ripped a new asshole.

Or maybe I'll just ignore it, chuck the phone across the room, stick my head under my pillow and get back to that pleasurable dream I was having about Shana…

Damn it, Shana.

It comes back to me in a rush that she's not home right now and something might be wrong. Fully awake, I grab the phone. It's not Shana, but her older sister, our town's librarian. She definitely wouldn't call unless she needed me. With my gut in knots, I bark a greeting.

"Do you have any idea what my damn fool sister is doing up in New York City?" she asks, the accent she usually makes a point to hide bursting out with worry.

Uh oh, looks like Shana's keeping secrets from her family again.

"Oh God, she didn't tell you?" I ask, rubbing my eyes and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I need coffee for this.

"She told you?" Melanie shrieks. "And you're okay with it?"

"Mel, she's a talented singer. Everyone in town knows that. If she wants to use up all her tip money to fly to New York and audition for some big-time talent agency, then I support her."

It's mostly true. The part about Shana having the voice of an angel is spot on, anyway. And it's not that I don't support her, it's just that I'm not quite ready to leave Oklahoma yet. I need to be just a bit more successful before I can traipse all over the world while Shana chases her dreams. So yeah, technically I think it's great she's finally gotten brave enough to go audition in a city where she could really get her foot in the music world door. But I'm not going to give her up, and that is an issue.

"Oh my God," Melanie sighs, hard enough I can almost feel it through the phone. "Just wait."

She ends the call, and utterly confused, I get up to make some coffee to help me think straight. As I head to the kitchen, I press the first contact number in my phone, but it goes to voicemail. She better not be ignoring me. With a scowl, I start to text Shana, but then a string of messages comes through from her sister.

It takes my under-caffeinated brain a second to realize it's a long message chain between Shana and Melanie and I sit at the bar to read it, forgetting all about my espresso machine on the other side of the kitchen.

"Oh, fuck," I say out loud, staring blankly at the black granite countertop before rereading the texts. Because I couldn't have understood them correctly the first time. No chance in hell. I focus on the last part of the argument.

Shana: The Black Door, just Google it.

Melanie: I don't have to, you told me enough. Are you out of your mind? You can't be serious. Get your ass home now. Right now.

Shana: Stop acting like I'm a toddler instead of a twenty-one-year-old. This is a great chance for me to afford an apartment in New York.

Melanie: YOU'RE GOING TO AUCTION OFF YOUR VIRGINITY???

Her sister sent several more screaming messages after that, both pleading and demanding for Shana to change her mind, but Shana had gone dark.

I call her a few more times, but all of my attempts go straight to voicemail. As sick as I feel, I can't help but laugh, even though there's no humor behind the ragged sound that comes out of me. Shana knows if she answers that I'll demand she come home immediately.

I call Melanie back, who's crying when she answers. "She still won't pick up for me," she sobs. "Did you have any luck? That awful auction is tonight."

"Calm down," I say, even though I'm anything but calm myself. My heart is hammering against my ribs and a need to smash something rises within me.

A burst of anger at Shana's selfishness goes through me, doused just as quickly by worry. Her father recently had a heart attack, for God's sake, and her mother took a leave of absence from her job to care for him. Melanie's husband is in the National Guard and it's just unlucky he's on duty right now. I can only picture her trying to drag her toddler and five-year-old on this mission to knock some sense into her sister.

Promising to handle the situation, I hang up with Melanie, already heading for my bedroom to toss my clothing into an overnight bag. Not wanting to deal with parking, I call a taxi while I finish my hurried packing and run out the door just as I get the alert that it's arrived. I try not to take anything out on the driver, but it has to be clear to anyone I'm a mess.

After I book the first flight to New York, I get my coffee and stare at the bustle of people in the airport while I wait the interminable hour until it takes off. I can barely breathe, let alone think.

The woman I've been in love with since second grade honestly thinks she's going to auction off her virginity to the highest bidder? The very same virginity I planned to take whenever Shana came to her senses and recognized our love for one another?

Hell no.

We've known each other since we were too young to remember otherwise. Best friends, inseparable. From tossing rocks into the creek and then splashing in barefoot to see who could get across faster, to sneaking out in middle school to spy on the older kids and rambling on for hours about how much cooler we'd be when we finally made it to high school. I was at every talent show and church performance, clapping the loudest at the end of each song.

Hell, I'd offered to go along on this trip with her as moral support, and now I know why she was so adamant about needing to do it on her own. I loosen up my grip on the paper coffee cup so it doesn't explode and splash all over the place. My flight finally gets announced over the intercom and I rush to the gate; spending way too much money on the first-class ticket so I can be the first one on and off the plane.

Ever since I realized Shana was the woman I was going to marry; my nose has been to the grindstone. The best grades, the best college, powering through with no breaks so I could graduate in record time and get started earning money. And saving money. All for Shana.

There's no way I'm letting her go through with something so stupid. If she needs money to follow her dreams, that money will come from me. Shana is mine. It also kills me that being such a tightwad with money the last few years is probably what made her consider this. She knows how important it is to me to save, but she doesn't know it's all for her.

The taxi ride to Shana's hotel seems to take forever in the dense New York traffic. Since landing, I've called her repeatedly, but she still won't answer her phone. According to the messages from her sister, the auction takes place tonight, so I don't have much time to find her. I try not to look like a psycho in her hotel lobby, but the cheap place doesn't look like it has much security anyway. There's no answer at her door and with the amount of pounding and shouting I'm doing; I have to believe she's not in there.

I cannot afford to wait around the lobby for her to possibly show up, so I get back in a taxi and head to the exclusive club. It's completely nondescript; just another old stone building with a discreet, glossy black door set back from the immaculate sidewalk. A few other people pass me as I stand on the sidewalk staring at it; all of them dressed in expensive clothes with disapproving looks on their faces. Do they have any idea what goes on in this place?

Taking a deep breath, I step up to the door and give it a hard shove before rushing in; barely registering the bizarre decor as I race through the dark, empty club. With its old-fashioned, deep purple wallpaper and gold and brass everywhere, it looks like a speakeasy from a movie about prohibition.

Or a Wild West Bordello.

In the back, it's much better lit and I come to an open office where an older lady is tapping away at her computer keyboard. She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow as I lean through the door while trying to catch my breath.

"May I help you?" she asks, her fingers never pausing.

I step in, holding out a picture of Shana on my phone. Her long blonde hair and big smile while holding her karaoke prize makes me feel sentimental. She's so beautiful it makes me desperate to stop this.

"This girl came in here and signed some kind of contract to be in an auction." I spit the words like they're venom. "It's not my place to judge this establishment, or anything y'all do here, but there's no way she's getting up on any stage."

She stops typing and peers at the picture. I see recognition in her shrewd eyes and my stomach sinks. I was hoping Shana hadn't gone through with it, but it's obvious she's been here.

"You have no say in the matter," she says. "That woman is an adult who is free to make her own decisions." She gives me a sly smile. "You're welcome to come join in the bidding, though. The auction starts at ten tonight."

I sense a presence behind me and turn to see a giant guy standing in the hallway, his posture relaxed for now. At over six feet tall and someone who makes time to hit the gym regularly, I'm still stunned by the size of this guy. I can't help Shana if I'm in the hospital, so I leave without starting anything.

I sure intend to finish this, though, one way or another. Out on the street, I find a bench close enough to monitor the door and start frantically making calls, trying to free up money. I'm rich, but Oklahoma rich, not New York City rich. Once those assholes see Shana, things are going to pop off and the bids might grow beyond my reach.

My best bet is to grab her before she goes in, but if I can't, I need to be ready.