Read Online Weak for Him by Lyra Parish - Free Book Online Page B

jacket with straight-legged trousers. It had to have
been designed by Brioni because only James Bond himself could pull
off that look. I swallowed hard and kept my eyes to the ground. His
voice, confident and smooth, traveled down the hallway with the
directions. But we knew what to do; it was in every manual we were
required to read.
    Turn around and face the wall so
blindfolds could be attached. Don't speak unless spoken
to.
    We were never to know all the
clients that used Mr. Felton's services; it was a part of the
nondisclosure agreement. So, everything was done behind closed
doors and blindfolds.
    The softness of the material
rubbed across my cheeks and eyelashes. I squished my nose a little
and peered down. I had moved the material a quarter of an inch, and
if I tilted my head a tad, I could see. It was directly against the
rules—rules that I had just broken.
    Lori, and another one of the girls
whose name I didn't know, grabbed my hands and all the women were
escorted to the main room where a stage awaited us.
    Curiosity killed me. I lifted my
head and caught glimpses of men of different ages and sizes. They
sat around circular tables eyeing their forms, which included
headshots and the numbers of their personal matches. The men were
like cattle herders, but they all wore expensive suits and ties,
the most sophisticated of gentlemen, the upper class, the only ones
that could afford The Elite.
    Mr. Felton's voice reverberated
through the room over a sound system.
    "Thank you all for attending
tonight. As you can see, each one of my girls has a number attached
to her chest. Please circle the one that you most desire on your
compatibility form. Once completed, please return your bid slip to
me. Assignments will be given once the bidding has
finished."
    His voice, so British and sexy,
articulated every word carefully. I memorized how this worked: the
highest bidder would be assigned to a girl and then the
meet-and-greet would commence. There would be no sex. The Elite
believed that two people should have a common chemistry before any
sort of sexual act took place. Tonight was nothing more than an
Elite speed-dating event that could eventually end in sex, one day.
It didn't seem so bad, considering.
    I licked my red lips and pressed
them together because I knew what was coming next.
    "Virgins step forward,
please."
    I did as told and moved forward
for everyone to see the one and only prized virgin .
Murmuring increased, and I knew they were excited. Tilting my head,
I could see the clients searching their forms for lucky number 13.
Some had me, and others didn't.
    "Thank you," Mr. Felton said, not
speaking into the microphone. And I moved back into
place.
    I almost could hear my heart
beating. And before I let my thoughts take over, the line traveled
from the main room back into the long hallway. We were instructed
to face the wall until Jesse removed our blindfolds.
    "You did well," Mr. Felton
whispered in my ear as he removed mine. So gentle, his touch and
the way he brushed my hair from my shoulders. I tried not to smile
and continued to look forward. As he walked by, I turned my head
slightly and positioned my body to see in my peripheral if he undid
anyone else's.
    He didn't. I held a
breath.
    Lori grabbed my hand and squeezed,
and we both shared a smile.
    "Turn around," Jesse
demanded.
    Like robots, each woman turned in
synchronicity and Jesse walked down the line passing out slips of
paper with our man of the evening's number attached. As she handed
me mine, she dropped it on the floor, gave an overly sarcastic oops and then kept walking.
    Bitch.
    I opened my paper and inside read, No. 26—Luketon Brand .
    Lori opened hers and smiled. Every
woman seemed happy with her selected match. Feeling out of the
loop, I flashed my card towards Lori. She gave a smile and thumbs
up, and then whispered he's fucking hot . I laughed and then
immediately turned it off as Jesse glared at me.
    The secretiveness of the process
kept