Chapter 18

This morning wasn't eventful like yesterday, thankfully. I woke up and went back to Atlas' room and he found me in the shower.

We showered together, where he ate my pussy like it was his last meal, and then he fucked me against the warm tile wall. It was amazing.

The rest of the day was spent lounging around, watching TV and playing more cards.

But now it's eleven pm and I'm making sure the small amount of things I brought with me are in my bag and ready to go back to the club.

It's time to get rich.

I'm dropping my lingerie in the bag and grabbing the denim jacket I came here in when Atlas wraps his arms around me from behind. He kisses my neck while his hands grab my soft belly.

"You don't have to leave. In fact, I don't want you to. Stay."

"Atlas." I sigh. "This was only for the weekend. You knew that. I have to go."

"No, you don't. You could stay here. Stay with me. I'll give you anything you want… anything you need."

As I turn to face him, I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the strength of his presence. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words pass between us. "I have to leave," I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "I don't know if there are rules about fraternizing afterward, but I'll ask. I need this money, Atlas."

"You don't," he responds, his voice pleading. "Whatever you need it for, I'll take care of it for you. Just please don't leave. I can't lose you again."

My heart doesn't break, but it cracks, and I swear I can feel the pain radiating from it. My stomach churns, knowing that I'm hurting him, but I have to go back to the club to get the money.

Not returning means forfeiting my house, losing everything I've worked so hard for. I won't allow that to happen. I know Atlas says he'll take care of it, but he doesn't understand what I did this for, what it would cost.

I need to do this myself, to take control of my own destiny. No one can use this against me or hold it as a bargaining chip.

With a heavy heart, I step back, releasing him from my embrace. I can see the desperation in his eyes as they search mine, silently begging me to remain by his side. But I can't. I have unfinished business to attend to.

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "But I have to do this."

Atlas' expression shifts, a mix of resignation and understanding crossing his features. He knows me well enough to know that once my mind is made up, there's no changing it.

With a new combination of hurt and anger in his eyes, Atlas clenches his jaw. "Well, we better go then," he says, his voice strained. "I"d hate for you not to get your fucking money."

My heart sinks. "It"s not like that," I protest, but even to me, the excuse sounds weak.

"Well, tell me how it is then, Sloane," he snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Tell me why this money is more important than me—than us."

A tear slips down my cheek. "I can"t," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own thoughts.

I don"t know why I don"t tell them or keep insisting that I can"t. It"s not like I sold myself for drugs or a new designer purse. But for some reason, telling them why I did it makes me feel cheap. Like there was a price tag on my soul. And while if they were anyone else, I might not care, Atlas and Ripley knowing just makes me feel icky.

"I"ll see you in the truck," Atlas mutters, but I can feel the underlying sting in his words as he slams the door behind him.

"I'll ask Edward about post-auction communication!" I call after him.

"Don't bother. You've made your choice," he fires back.

With a heavy sigh, I slip my boots on and trudge down the stairs, the weight of his disappointment sitting in my gut like a rock.

When I close the door to the house and turn around, the truck is already idling, waiting for me. Rip is behind the wheel, with Atlas beside him, his expression defeated and pissed off. Climbing into the backseat, I buckle up as Rip starts backing out of the driveway, the tension in the air thick. I want to reach up and put a hand on Atlas' shoulder, to apologize for the pain I"ve caused, but the words stick in my throat like bile. We drive in silence, Atlas never saying anything or even looking at me, and the only thing I get from Rip is a few glares in the rearview mirror.

We pull up to the club and Rip doesn't even turn the truck off, just slips it into park and turns around to look at me.

"I should have known you'd be a whore, just like your mom. She fucked and left just like you are. The only difference is you're getting cash, and she got smack."

His words are like a thousand cuts, slicing deep, and tears pool in my eyes. I look to Atlas, hoping he'll stand up for me. But I'm met with nothing but silence and the back of his head as he continues to stare out the window.

Fine!

If these two want to act like a duo of fuckheads, they can do it solo. I unbuckle and fling the seatbelt from around me so hard that the buckles hit the window. Wincing, I check to make sure I didn't do any damage because I'm not trying to pay for a window.

Oh, thank fuck. There's nothing wrong.

Opening the door, I get out and slam it—hard. I want to make it clear just how furious I am. How much they've hurt me.

I storm into the club, my body vibrating with anger. Natalie is waiting inside, still looking every bit the twin to Miss Thank You, Next, with her hair half up, high on her head like a crown.

She escorts me to the elevator and down to the dressing room where this all began.

"Was everything okay this weekend?" she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

"Yes. Everything was fine," I lie. Although, to her, it"s not a lie. I"m sure all she cares about is that I"m back alive and in one piece, and that I fucked my way to half a mil.

"Perfect." She smiles, a glimmer of relief in her eyes. "Alright, we have your banking information. If you just sign here, the money will be in your account instantly." She holds out the tablet to me, and I let my finger slide across the cool screen as I sign my name. Natalie looks at it before pushing a few buttons.

My phone beeps and when I pull it out, the deposit confirmation for $500,000 is lit up on the screen. Relief floods through me, washing away a bit of the anger and hurt.

"Are we all good, then?" Natalie inquires.

"Yeah, it"s there," I tell her.

"Then you"re free to go. Remember, you can only be auctioned once, so don"t try to apply again. And always be mindful of your NDA."

"I will. I do have a question though. Are there any rules on post-auction communication?"

Not sure why I'm asking since the two men I'd want to talk to dropped me off without a word and said the most hateful things ever. But my heart isn't totally on board with the screaming in my brain to let them go fuck themselves. Part of me still hopes that there could be more.

"What do you mean?" She quirks a brow.

"Well, ironically, I knew my buyer," I explain. "A blast from the past, you could say. So, I was just curious if I would be breaking any rules if I stayed in contact."

Natalie"s eyes light up with amused delight. "Ohhhhh, how fun!" She claps. "No, there are no rules about that. As long as you keep the NDA intact, you are free to do what you want now."

"Perfect." I smile.

"Have a good life, Birdie."

"Thanks. You too, Natalie."

I leave the dressing room and head back up to the street, the cool night air a welcome reprieve after the ride here and being back in the club. There, waiting for me, is Maxwell, leaning against the town car with an easy smile on his face.

"Good evening, Birdie," he greets me. "Or shall I say good morning? I"m here to take you home."

"Good evening, Maxwell," I reply, sliding into the backseat of the car as he holds the door open.

I lean my head against the window and close my eyes, letting the rhythmic motion of the car ride soothe me to sleep.