Read Online Paraded before the Billionaires by Aphrodite Hunt - Free Book Online Page B

fabricated womb and it’s viscous and claustrophobic and
oxygen-depriving and terrifying.
    “Breathe, Gina, breathe.”
    Max wraps me tightly in his arms as though
to permeate me with his very warmth. Somehow, it works. I find my
breathing evening out and my heart rate fall. I allow myself to be
cloaked in his loving embrace.
    My fugue slowly clears.
    Am I being foolish?
    Or am I the only realist in this room?
    Max shoots a glare at Greg. “Why the hell
did you have to scare her like that?”
    Greg’s face is ashen. “I didn’t know she was
going to go off the deep end.”
    “My father will never let anything truly bad
happen to us. You know that.”
    “Oh really? Whatever happened to – ?”
    “Shut up, Greg.” Max’s chest vibrates
against mine as his voice booms forth.
    Greg shuts up, but the look in his eyes as
he regards me is knowing and wary.
    “Gina, it’s going to be OK.” Max’s tone
soothes, like gentle waves on a beachfront. “I’ll never let
anything bad happen to you. You know that.”
    Maybe it’s not up to you, I want to say.
    We are interrupted by footsteps on the stone
floor. Heathcliff, the butler who has been so kind to me, comes
into view with a large brass key.
    “Good evening,” he greets us. No ‘sir’ or
‘miss’ now, I note, even though he sounds as polite and cheerful as
always. “I have come to take you to the Atrium.”
    “What for?” Alice demands. Her shoulders are
tense and her firm breasts are high on her chest. How easily she
slips into command mode, even though she’s depressed. I suspect her
father put her into this to teach her humility – which she richly
deserves, of course.
    I will never be able to feel too much
sympathy for someone who was born with a diamond-encrusted spoon in
her mouth . . . and who uses that spoon to shove it into the
throats of other lowlier beings.
    “To prepare all of you for the auction
festivities tomorrow,” Heathcliff says pleasantly as he inserts the
key in the lock.
    Festivities?
    For an auction?

2
     
    OK.
    There is an agenda. A table of events.
    Seriously.
    It’s like the build-up to the auction.
    There’s:
     
    A PARADE
    A RACE
    TALENTIME
    DISPLAY
    AUCTION
     
    What the hell do they mean?
    Max shakes his head as he bathes me in the
Roman Atrium – a Roman bathhouse-type structure located somewhere
in the mansion. Another room I haven’t been in, of course, but I’m
getting used to that.
    “I have never been to an auction,” he
remarks, sponging my breasts.
    We are both immersed in the rectangular
pool, bubbling with hot water. In another corner, Greg is bathing
Alice, whose blonde hair is wet and plastered all over her lovely
back. They are engaged in low conversation, and concern is etched
on Greg’s handsome face.
    “How come?” I say.
    “The ones run by my father’s friends in the
exclusive club are meant for people with a certain financial
equity. Meaning billionaires.”
    “And you’re not one?”
    I don’t mean this to come out as teasing –
because frankly, my mood is far from being a coquette right now –
but somehow it does.
    “Not yet.” He grimaces. “My father doesn’t
plan to make it easy.”
    “So he’s going to make you sweat it out for
your inheritance?”
    “Yes. I have to get a job, do other stuff to
prove myself . . . like this .”
    I shake my head. It all seems so . . .
weird. But then, the Devlins are anything but normal.
    “And the money from the auction goes to . .
. ?”
    “Charitable causes.” His hands move down to
my belly where he lovingly dips the tip of the sponge into my
umbilicus. I shiver in the slowly building anticipation. “Darfur.
Somalia. Laos landmine victims.”
    “That’s noble.”
    What a method to be noble.
    “Billionaires are complicated beings.
Eccentric. They like their fun, and they also like to be
charitable. In every person, there exist multiple facets – cruelty,
kindness, ruthlessness, gentleness – not usually in equal measure.
The same