The Auction: A Dark Romance (Club Indulgence Duet Book 1)

‘It’s worth a try,’ Ears states.

Noah nods and slides onto the piano bench next to me. He hits a couple of piano keys and directs, ‘Try it lower.’

‘Lower?’ I ask in doubt.

‘Yeah, just humor me,’ he replies.

I shrug. ‘Okay.’

He hits the notes, and I lower my voice, singing, ‘Love you.’ When I’m done, I turn to him. ‘Like that?’

He grins and pats my leg. ‘Yes, exactly like that.’ He glances at Ears. ‘You hear the difference?’

Ears grins. ‘Yep. Can you sing it like that on the next go-round?’

‘Sure,’ I agree. It’s a bit strange getting instructions on how to sing my lyrics. I’ve never had anyone give me suggestions, but everything Ears and Noah propose seems to make my songs better.

We go through another take, and I sing it how they want me to. I decide I like it better, as well.

Noah leans closer, asking, ‘How’s that feel?’

I nod. ‘Good. I think you guys are right.’

Ears chuckles. ‘I usually am, darling. I usually am.’

I roll my eyes. I’ve gotten used to Ears’s ego, and I spend lots of time laughing over some of the things he says.

The buzzer rings, and the recording box door opens. I turn, and Riggs steps inside. He pins his glare on Noah.

Noah stiffens, jumps up, and praises, ‘Good work, Blakely.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, wondering why he’s acting so weird and why Riggs is staring at him like he wants to kill him.

Noah crosses his arms and asks, ‘Riggs, can we help you with something?’

Riggs demands, ‘We need to go through Blakely’s schedule.’

Noah’s jaw twitches. He keeps his gaze on Riggs, then slowly grabs his phone out of his pocket. He swipes at the screen and states, ‘I have a dozen interviews lined up for her to promote her first single, ‘Invisibly Broken.”

‘Did you decide on a release date?’ Riggs questions.

‘Next month,’ Noah affirms.

My butterflies take off. I’m still shocked this is happening. It’s like all my dreams are coming true, and I have to give all the credit to Riggs.

My husband.

I study him grilling Noah, and my heart soars. He’s taking care of all the issues I don’t want to be bothered with so I can focus on my music. It’s perfect.

Noah informs Riggs about the places around the country where he’s scheduled me to do interviews or sing, and my head spins. Even with Riggs handling the business side of things, it’s overwhelming to me.

Noah states, ‘She has a radio interview in Atlanta, and I booked her to open a concert two days later. I can stay there with Blakely, and she can meet some of my contacts over there.’

Riggs shakes his head, ‘No. She must be back on the plane immediately after the radio interview. I’ll fly her back to Atlanta in time for the concert.’

Noah shifts on his feet, declaring, ‘It’s Atlanta. It’s known for its music scene. Surely you know this.’

Riggs stands his ground, asserting, ‘Blakely has an important charity event that she has to come to with me.’

I groan. ‘Riggs, you know I hate those events. It’s just a bunch of rich people wasting money on their fancy food and $1000 bottles of champagne. They should take that money and donate it to the charity if they care. It’s super hypocritical.’

Arrogance fills Riggs’s face. ‘Exactly. That’s why everything has been donated to this event. Not a penny will be wasted.’

‘How’s that possible?’ I ask, not believing it. I’ve been to too many of these events with my parents. I know how they work and what these people expect.

‘Because I’ve been planning it,’ he announces.

‘Oh. I-I didn’t know.’

‘Now you do. So why don’t you ask me what it’s for?’

‘Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the charity?’

He briefly studies me, then lowers his voice. ‘It’s for the L.A. Center for Addiction’s new Blakely Fox-Madden Wing.’

My heart pounds harder. I finally stutter, ‘A-a wing in my name?’

He nods. ‘Yes. And I’ve been planning this charity event for months—four, to be exact. And you can sing that night, as well. Give more people in L.A. a sample of your music. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

‘No. Of course I want to,’ I blurt out.

Noah interjects, ‘This sounds great, but I can assure you the contacts in Atlanta we could meet with are going to be better than any new fans in L.A.’

I raise my chin. ‘Noah. I’m coming back to attend the event with Riggs. I’ll have to meet the people in Atlanta at a different time.’

He huffs. ‘You don’t just meet people on a whim, Blakely. They have schedules.’

‘It’s not open for discussion,’ I state, holding my ground. It’s something I’ve gotten better at executing. I blame Riggs.

Noah opens his mouth again, but Riggs interjects, ‘You heard her.’

I rise, but I then reach for the piano cover as a rush of dizziness hits me.

‘Pet, you okay?’ Riggs mutters, putting his hand on my back.

I sit back down and grow dizzier, then put my hand on my belly as a wave of nausea rolls through me.

Riggs crouches in front of me, peering at me and fretting, ‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’

My vision returns, and my belly calms. I shake my head. ‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

‘Have you eaten today?’ he questions.

‘I had breakfast.’

‘That one piece of toast? That’s all you’ve had?’ he accuses, his voice rising.

I shrug. ‘We were working, and I wasn’t hungry.’

Riggs glares at Ears and Noah, asserting, ‘From now on, Blakely takes mandatory food breaks.’

‘We offered her food,’ Ears informs him.

‘Not good enough. Make sure she actually eats,’ Riggs says in a very firm and upset voice.

‘I will from now on,’ I assure him.

He gives me a look like he doesn’t trust me.

‘I will,’ I insist.

He sighs, then takes my hand and pulls me up. ‘Let’s go eat.’

‘But I think we have more work to do,’ I state.

Riggs says to the men, ‘See, this is why it’s mandatory.’

‘Sorry!’ I cringe.

‘You’re good, Blakely. Get something to eat. We can do more songs tomorrow,’ Ears states.

I glance at Noah, not wanting him to be upset with me about the charity event or leaving too soon. ‘Is there anything else you need from me today?’

He shakes his head. ‘No. Go eat.’

Riggs guides me out of the recording box, then leads me out of the studio and down the street. There’s a small sandwich shop, and he takes me inside. We order Italian subs and sit down. He hands me a bottle. ‘Drink some water.’

I obey to appease him, then inform him, ‘I had four bottles today.’

‘Well, at least you won’t be dehydrated,’ he mutters.

I grin. ‘Nope!’

A server sets our sandwiches on the table. ‘Need anything else?’

‘No, we’re set,’ Riggs answers. He motions to me. ‘Eat.’

I pick up the sandwich and move it toward my mouth. A foul smell fills my nostrils. I cringe and drop the sub on the paper.

‘What’s wrong?’ Riggs inquires.

‘I think I’m just tired,’ I say.

He feels my head. ‘You don’t have a fever.’

‘I don’t. I’m just tired,’ I insist again.

He stares at me, and I can tell he isn’t buying that I’m just tired. He nods toward the sub. ‘You still need to eat.’

I push the sandwich away. ‘I can’t eat this. It smells rotten. Smell it!’

Riggs picks his sandwich up and sniffs it. ‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘It does,’ I insist.

He grabs my sub, holds it to his nose, deeply inhales, then declares, ‘This is fresh.’

The thought of taking a bite makes me wince.

‘Let me get you another sandwich,’ he says.

I glance at the case of desserts. ‘I’d rather eat a piece of that double chocolate fudge cake.’

He arches his eyebrows, and his lips twitch. ‘You haven’t eaten all day and want a piece of cake?’

‘Yeah. If you’re good, I’ll let you smear it all over me, then lick it off later tonight,’ I tease as I lean closer and wiggle my eyebrows. I admit, ‘I’m suddenly feeling a little needy.’

Riggs chuckles. ‘I guess I’ll get a couple of extra pieces of cake, then.’

‘Can we get it to go?’ I ask, then add, ‘I’m sorry. Are you starving?’

He holds his hand up. ‘No, I’m fine. We can take it home, but at least eat the chips.’ He hands me the paper container.

I shove one in my mouth and chew it. ‘These are good.’

‘Glad you approve. Have some more,’ he orders, then wraps up the sandwiches and goes to the counter. He orders three pieces of cake.

The staff boxes everything up.

Riggs leads me out to the Porsche.

I get in the car and don’t make it very far before I fall asleep. When I wake up, Riggs is carrying me into the bedroom. I stroke his cheek and say, ‘Hey.’

He kisses me on the forehead. ‘Hey. Go back to sleep. I’ll tuck you under the covers.’

My stomach growls. ‘I think I want my chocolate cake.’

He sets me on the bed, removes my shirt and pants, and pulls the blankets over me. He states, ‘I’ll go get your dessert.’

‘Thanks.’

A few minutes pass. He carries a TV tray into the room. It has a plate and a piece of cake on it. There’s a bottle of water, one fork, and two napkins.

Riggs takes a forkful and holds it near my mouth.

I bite into it and groan. After I chew and swallow, I declare, ‘This is so good.’

He grins. ‘Glad you’re enjoying it.’

He picks up another forkful of cake, but I move his hand toward his mouth. ‘Try it. It’s delicious.’

He bites into it and nods. I take a sip of water and then he does as well. ‘You’re right. It’s pretty good. Good call making me get this for you.’

I wiggle my eyebrows. ‘You can still spread it all over me if you want.’

He chuckles. ‘Maybe after you get some rest. I don’t recall ever seeing you so exhausted. If Noah and Ears are working you too hard—’

‘They aren’t!’ I interject, then yawn and say, ‘Tell me about the charity event. How did you get everything donated?’

The ego that I love so much washes over him. He leans his face toward mine, claiming, ‘Because your husband knows how to get things done.’

I laugh, confirming, ‘I’m aware of this.’

His face falls. ‘You and I have the same opinions on these events. I hate them just as much as you. But, if we can do something good with our status, then we should. So let’s be the couple that does better.’

Everything about his statement makes me happy. It’s just another reason I love him so much. I curl into him and lean up to kiss him.

He returns my affection.

I retreat. ‘Hey, I-I wanted to ask you something.’

He arches his eyebrows.

My pulse increases. I inquire, ‘Have you told my father we’re married?’

A brief moment of anxiety fills his face. It disappears quickly, and he replies, ‘No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?’

I should have considered it long before now. We’ve been married for over a month. But I’ve been so engrossed in Riggs and my career that it didn’t occur to me. I admit, ‘Today, it crossed my mind that you and my father are business partners. At some point, he’s going to find out. How is that going to work for you? Plus, once my singles get released, and the promotion begins, it won’t be hard for him to figure out how to find me.’

Surprise registers on Riggs’s face.

I blurt out, ‘We should have thought about this.’

‘Why? Are you regretting marrying me?’ he questions.

‘No! Of course not! I hate for you to have to deal with my father’s wrath, but I also don’t know how we avoid it.’

Riggs chuckles.

‘What’s so funny?’ I question.

Arrogance washes over him. In his most confident tone, he answers, ‘One, your father and I aren’t going to be partners much longer.’

Shock fills me. ‘You’re not?’

His eyes darken so intensely, a chill runs down my spine. He tightens his arm around me and affirms, ‘No. And two, there’s nothing your father can do to hurt you or me. He’s weak.’

I don’t doubt Riggs’s strength, but I also know my father.

Riggs sees my worry. He strokes my cheek, insisting, ‘You have nothing to worry about, pet.’

I hesitate, then ask, ‘What did he do to you? Will you please tell me?’

A few moments pass, with tension building between us. Riggs finally rolls onto his side, strokes the curve of my waist, and says, ‘This is between us.’

‘Of course,’ I reply.

Riggs studies me, then announces, ‘Your father stole from our client accounts and me.’

I gape at him, speechless. My father is a lot of things, but a thief?

He adds, ‘It’s hundreds of millions of dollars.’

My mouth turns dry. I inquire, ‘Will he go to jail?’

A sinister smile lights up Riggs’s darkened expression. ‘No. I’m taking care of things, so it’s not public, but your father will soon have no money. It’s better than doing hard time. All the things he takes for granted and waves in everyone’s faces will disappear.’

I swallow hard, asking, ‘How?’

He kisses my lips. ‘Don’t worry about it. I have everything under control.’

My belly quivers. I hate my father, yet he’s still my blood. A moment of sympathy hits me.

‘You don’t like the thought of your father suffering?’ Riggs questions.

Visions of all the bad things my father did to me over the years, including kidnapping me twice and ordering me to choose to marry a man who disgusts me, fill my mind. And stealing, screwing over Riggs and his clients, adds to my disgust. I softly admit, ‘He deserves to lose everything.’

While I believe in my statement, something about Riggs’s admission nags at me. I can’t put my finger on what bothers me about it.

Riggs palms my cheek, insisting, ‘He can’t harm you, pet. Don’t fret over this. Plus, I’ll go to my grave protecting you.’

I convince myself Riggs has everything under control. I smile at him. ‘I know you will.’

I fully believe my statement. He’ll always protect me. He’s my husband. No matter what my father tries to do to retaliate, Riggs will make sure I’m protected.

I snuggle into him and fall asleep in his arms; safe, warm, and happy in the belief Riggs would never hurt me.