ONE.

“Now we have number eight, Ms. Birdene Black.”

I freeze, staring at the auctioneer, confused, and then I shift my gaze to the stage with a beam of light shining upon it.

The woman with the clipboard in her hand pushes me, and I stumble forward, turning my neck to take one last glance at her.

Cheers fill the room, mixed with growls of approval.

“Ms. Birdene Black is twenty years old. She likes to read and listen to music. This is her first auction and I do believe she a virgin, which makes her a worthy prize if you win her. Do I hear a hundred thousand?” The auctioneer announces into the microphone as he slowly circles me like a predator getting ready to pounce on its prey.

My chest rises and falls with every shallow breath I take.

This is insane.

I don't know how I ended up here on stage getting auctioned off like a prized possession.

Bids start filling the air. Reaching over a million dollars.

My jaw drops, stunned that men are willing to throw thousands of dollars away for pussy.

Dropping my gaze, I wrap my arms around my waist the instant I realise the dress I’m wearing is transparent, leaving little to their imagination.

A plague of goosebumps spreads across my flesh, and I suddenly begin to feel sick.

“Thirty million dollars,” a low, masculine voice calls out.

The voice sounds familiar, and something stirs deep within my core. The room suddenly falls silent. The testosterone tension rising in the room is being suffocated by the gentle murmurs of men whispering in their seats.

“Do I hear forty?”

“Forty.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Fifty.” The familiar voice resonates through the room.

What would I say anyway?

"Sixty!"

The sound of a chair toppling over disperses through the air and the spotlight that was beaming down on me moves across the room. 

My gaze follows the light as it lands on the back of a tall male with broad shoulders, dressed in an expensive suit.

His luscious jet-black hair is kissed by the subtle touch of grey strands, like a sprinkle of pepper on a fine dish.

In slow motion, I watch as this man reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun, his thumb flicks the safety off as he swings the weapon to the front of him.

Pressing it against another man's head.

I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands as I take two steps back.

“I dare you to say eighty.” The man with the gun snarls in a murderous tone.

“N…No… you can have her. I’ll bid on the next girl.”

“Are you sure? Because I’d hate to snag such a gem from your hands?”

“Ye…Yes. I’m certain. I heard the next girl is of brown skin with mesmerizing purple eyes, anyway.”

"Hmm."

"Please, Mr. Ripley. I.. I had no idea that you were bidding on her. I revoke my previous bid." The man states as he trembles in his overpriced shoes.

"Louder!" The man with the gun orders. 

"I, Lawrence Milford, withdraw my previous bid. Mr. Ripley can have number eight at fifty million."

The gun falls from his head as the other man exhales loudly, causing his shoulders to sag. “Wise choice, Lawrence.”

“SOLD at fifty million dollars to Mr. Ace Ripley.” The auctioneer announces in a shaky tone.

My brows furrow.

Ace Ripley.

Why does that name sound familiar? 

Licking my lips, I watch as the man with the gun tucks his weapon back into his holster. 

Slowly, he turns around to face me as he toys with the cuff links on his suit jacket, before combing his fingers through his hair as he raises his head to meet my gaze.

I suck in a razor-sharp breath as his mesmerizing green orbs collide with my brown irises.

“No…” I whisper, shaking my head frantically as I slowly walk backwards. “Not you...”

“Hello, Little Bird.” He says with a devious smirk curling on the corner of his mouth. “Are you ready to go home?”

---

A FEW HOURs EARLIER.

SLAP…

The excruciating pain of my mother's hand striking me across the face sears my cheek like a bad memory that won’t go away.

“You will not speak to your father in such a manner, young lady!” Olivia Black shrieks at me. “As long as you bear our name, you will do as you are told.”

I turn my head to look my mother in the eyes with tears brimming in mine. “I won’t marry him. You cannot force me to marry a man whom I call uncle!”

“What’s the big deal? You know you are adopted.” My father, Jaxson points out.

“How could I forget? You make sure to remind me at least once a week. You act as if I begged you to take me under your wing. I didn’t.” I hiss as my heart slowly begins to break.

It's also pretty evident that I am adopted. Both my parents have jet-black hair, blue eyes and olive skin. I'm as pale as they come with brown eyes and brown hair. 

A splatter of freckles also paints my face. 

“Your uncle Flynn wishes to take care of you. He wants you to birth him an heir and-”

“I said no, and you cannot force me. I will marry who I want. Not who I am being forced to.”

“Oh, you ungrateful little bitch!” My mother yells at the top of her lungs, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets in disbelief.

My father rises from behind his desk with his hands curling at his sides. “You will marry your uncle Flynn and that's the end of it!” He bellows furiously, challenging me to defy him.

Lucky for him. Today is his lucky day. 

“I said no. I won't consent to it and he will have to rape me to get me pregnant.”

“Oh, that can be arranged. Don't you worry your pretty little head, Birdene. If I have to tie you up, so be it.”

“You would do that to me?” I whisper, already knowing the answer. “Ofcourse you would. You'd have to possess a heart to truly give a shit about me.”

I spin away from my parents, unable to be in the same room with them any longer and run as fast as my feet will carry me out of the villa. 

My feet pound against the pavement, pain shoots up my calves as I dig deep, moving my legs faster.

“Ms. Birdene…” Ross calls out behind me; hot on my heels. “Stop, you need to return to the villa.”

I can sense him closing the distance between us, and I step out onto the road, flagging down the first taxi that drives past. 

Yanking the door wide open, I get inside, close the door and lock it.

“Drive…” I yell at the driver as he glares at me over his shoulder.

“Ms. Birdene, you know you cannot leave,” Ross growls as he desperately tries to open the door.

“Please… just drive. He’s a crazy ex that won’t leave me alone, see.” I point to the handprint on my cheek.

The driver's brows pinch together, and he plants his foot down on the accelerator. The vehicle lurches forward, leaving a pissed-off Ross behind. 

I turn around, looking out the back window, and I watch as the black SUV pulls up next to Ross. He barely has both feet in the vehicle before it speeds off, tailing us.

The driver looks in the rearview mirror. “You have money on you, right?”

Digging into my denim pockets, I pull out a twenty, lean forward, and I hand it to him. “This is all I have. But if you can lose the SUV behind us, I promise to pay you generously.”

The driver laughs, shaking his head, “if I had a dollar every time someone used that line on me, I’d own my own business and a fleet of mansions by now.” He mumbles with his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“I swear I will. Please… I’ve never asked for help from anyone before, but I cannot return home and marry my uncle.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes. Flynn Black.” I shudder at the sound of his name.

The vehicle comes to a screeching halt and I have to hold on to the back of his seat to prevent myself from kissing it.

“Out!”

“What?”

“Out! Mr. Flynn Black is a man I wish not to associate myself with.”

“Please…” My voice trembles. “Don’t do this?” I beg.

He raises his gaze to look in the rearview mirror once again. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

I turn to look out the window and watch as the SUV slows down behind us. 

“Fuuucck…” I jump out of the taxi, sprint across the road, and approach the first building I see with people lining up outside to enter.

“Are you here for the auction?” One doorman asks.

“Ms. Birdene.” Ross’s voice burns my ear canals.

“Auc-auction… Yes. I’m here for the auction.”

“You are late.” He hisses with a sigh and turns sideways in the doorway, pointing to the staircase. “Take the stairs and turn right when you reach the top. Someone will greet you.”

“Birdene!”

Turning my head, I watch Ross pushing people to the side as he desperately tries to reach me.

Nodding my head, “top of the stairs and turn right.” I repeated to the doorman.

“Correct.” He mumbles.

I push past him, running up the stairs, hoping to lose myself in a crowd of people until I can find a safe exit door to slip out of.