CHAPTER 1

Sarah’s POV

Striding down the paseo, heading for an interview, I’m thinking about my auctioning scheduled tonight. I’ve been drowning in problems, weighed down by family responsibilities and swimming in debts, hence, I agreed to Mr Maguire’s sick plan of auctioning me to filthy rich men who’ve got money to throw around. But I made it clear that a date is all the highest bidder is getting.

“What the...?” I yell as soon as a puddle of dirty water is splashed on me. It swiftly greets my chin, trailing down my chest and finally stopping on my tight faded blue skirt. “Seriously!” I groan irritatedly, trying to somehow dry off the liquid with my hand.

In utmost fury, my eyes dart to the stupid car that has ruined my outfit, my mood and possibly, my day. Like I’m not already having a bad day and the day has only just begun.

I glare at the vehicle as it makes its way to the front of a building and parks there. It’s a shiny, black car, very fancy. I’m terribly concerned with the fact that my outfit has been completely ruined and I’ve got a job interview this morning. I can’t let this slide. Whoever’s sitting behind the wheels owes me a freaking apology and I’m going to get it come what may.

With my fists balled, my teeth clenched in anger and frustration and my purse clutched under my armpit, I stomp over to where the car is, strands of my golden blonde hair falling to my face. I make my way to the front of the car, eagerly awaiting the driver to come out. I tap my foot on the ground on seeing that whoever’s in there is hesitant to come out and I get even more irritated.

I’m about to open my mouth to say something when the man behind the wheels comes out. He opens the car door and quickly jumps down. I give him a once-over. He’s a slightly tall man with curly hair and a weird-looking beard. He doesn’t even spare me a single glance, instead, he takes a step towards the back door as though he’s in a hurry and can not afford to be a second late.

“Hey you!” I call out to him in a shrilling voice and he sharply turns to face me. I close the distance between us while he keeps staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You owe me an apology!”

“Pardon?” He says in a thick Cockney accent, arching his eyebrow and staring at me blankly.

“You splashed water on me with your car and ruined my clothes. I wouldn’t mind it at all if I didn’t have an interview this morning!” I try to sound calm but I can’t. I have a lot going on already and this incident only makes matters worse for me.

“Forgive me, Miss but I had no idea. I was...” He’s suddenly interrupted by the sound of the back door opening.

I divert my attention to the car and watch intently as the person slowly comes out. The first thing I notice are his shoes, black, lush and glistening under the morning light. And then his tight-fitted black suit comes into view, it’s sleek and deluxe, prim and screaming money – the one thing that can put an end to all my life’s problems. I exhale calmly when the man emerges and his driver shuts the door behind him.

My eyes linger on him fiercely and I can’t seem to make myself look away. He’s tall and slightly muscled, I can tell even under his suit. His jet-black hair is styled neatly, his lips are pressed in a thin line, his shoulders broad and graceful, harmonizing with his sharp jawline and chiseled good looks. I don’t know for how long I stare but I can’t help myself.

The man’s expression is grim and his head is held up high. He glances at me and then at the driver before walking right past me like I’m not even standing there. I get a whiff of his cologne, so bold and gilded, causing my nostrils to flare. The driver apologizes again and hastily follows behind.

I inhale a deep breath, staring at their direction and then I remember I have somewhere to be. I cuss at myself as I hurry off to the edifice for my interview.

“We’ll get back to you,” the employer says to me in a monotonous voice, concluding the interview after only a few minutes.

But I can feel it in my guts that it’s a no. I was tardy and I came in here looking like crap. I walk myself out with a fake smile on my lips. The rest of the day goes by quickly. I go for my noon shift at this restaurant near my house and as the nightfall creeps in, my shift ends.

And then I get ready for the highlight of the day, my auctioning. I put on a red skimpy halter neck dress Mr Maguire lent to me for the event, accentuating my curves and firm, round bust and apply makeup as per his instructions. I get 30% of the highest bid and the rest goes to him. I can’t complain because it’s a fair deal.

Now, I’m standing in front of eleven affluent bastards, forced to put on a smile and pose like a runway model as they ogle and leer at me.

“Gentlemen, the highest bidder gets to take this enthralling beauty on a date. Who will it be? Let’s begin! Going for $10,000,” Mr Maguire booms and I glare at him.

That’s a little too high for a start, I think.

“$10,000,” one man says.

“$20,000,” another counters.

“$30,000,” I hear another thunder.

“$40,000!” Another man yells.

“$50,000!”

Holy macaroni! Are this people out of their minds or what? They’ve got so much money to waste, just sitting there, drinking and calling amounts I’ve never seen in my life. I’m still wondering what’s it with rich people and throwing money away like that when I hear a deep voice say ever so calmly, “$100,000.”

All heads turn to look at the person and I gasp as my eyes land on him. He’s the same man from earlier this morning, the cold devilishly handsome man. We lock gazes, my mouth partly agape and his expression as cold as ever.

“$200,000, I meant to say,” he deadpans and I gulp, my heart skipping a beat.

Who is this man?