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Home / Romance / Sold For $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Sold For $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

83 Chapters

Chapter One

Alina’s POV The man holding my arm doesn’t loosen his grip even when I stumble on the marble step. “Walk,” he mutters under his breath, giving me a shove toward the stage. My heels scrape awkwardly against the polished floor, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the low hum of voices filling the underground hall. The room smells faintly of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke, the kind my stepfather used to brag about being able to afford. I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders back even as humiliation crawls up my spine. Rows of people sit in shadowed booths, their faces half hidden behind dim golden lights. Everyone looks relaxed and entertained. Like they’re watching a show. And I’m the entertainment. The auctioneer stands behind a podium at the center of the stage. He’s older, silver-haired, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo that probably costs more than everything I’ve ever owned combined. His eyes flick over me. “Next item,” he announces smoothly. My stomac

Chapter Two

The laughter in the room slowly fades, but the sound of the auctioneer’s gavel still echoes in my ears. Sold. My hands curl into fists at my sides as the reality settles over me like a suffocating weight. One dollar. That’s what my life is worth. I glare at my stepfather, but he’s slumped over his chair. His glass is empty. Typical. I should’ve known he was going to get drunk. The only time I ever saw him sober was during his anniversary with my mom. And even then, he couldn’t be a good husband for one day. The sound of movement at the back of the room draws my attention. I flinch inwardly as the three men rise from their table. The shift in the room is immediate. Everyone turns, watching the Hawthorne brothers walk toward the stage. They move slowly and unhurried, like men who know the entire room belongs to them. Adrian Hawthorne leads the way. Up close, he’s even more intimidating than I expected. He’s taller than the other two, broad-shouldered, dressed in

Chapter Three

I stumble back instinctively, Lucien’s coat slipping from my shoulders and falling to the pavement with a soft whisper. A warm flush runs down my spine. I draw in a slow breath, trying to steady my nerves. Adrian closes the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. When he reaches the streetlight along the curb, the glow catches his face. I see the faint frown tugging at his lips as his gaze drops briefly to the coat on the pavement. He looks back at me. “You dropped something.” His voice is low and even, as if nothing bothers him. But I still can recall the look on his face when he stared at my father. He looked like he wanted to strangle him. I swallow, glancing down at Lucien’s coat lying between us. “I—” The words die in my throat when he suddenly leans in. I hold my breath instinctively, shaking on the inside. But he merely bends, picking it up with one smooth motion. He holds it in his hand for a moment, studying the dark fabric with mild curiosity.

Chapter Four

“You can do this. You can—” My courage vanishes the second I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I can’t,” I whisper. My hair is twisted into a messy bun, damp strands clinging to my neck. I spent the last thirty minutes in the bathtub, scrubbing my skin raw like I could wash tonight away if I tried hard enough. The silk pajamas I’m wearing feel impossibly soft against my skin. I’ve slept in stretched-out tees for the past five years. This is the kind of luxury I’ve only seen in magazines. And yet I’m hiding in the bathroom. A bathroom with marble floors and more shower heads than I can count. Because the moment I step outside that door… My stomach knots. Adrian Hawthorne’s voice echoes in my head. “You’re sleeping in my bed.” I didn’t think he meant it, even when he handed me a folded pajama set and bluntly said I needed a shower. For some reason, it didn’t occur to me to ask if it was his bedroom. Until I heard the door open and his voice, drifti

Chapter Five

The sun is shining directly in my face when I wake up the next morning. Not wake up, actually. I open my eyes to the bright, stinging light from the drapes drawn open, grab the pillow, and slam it over my head like WWE. I used to watch it when I was younger, after my mother died. I thought if I became stronger, I could defend myself from the scumbags my stepdad brought around the house. Turns out they wanted nothing to do with his daughter. Somehow, the loan sharks and gangsters were more honest than the man my mother left me with. My head hurts. I groan as I crawl out of bed, finding my way with my hands while my eyes remain shut. Just there…a little bit more…I’m closer to the edge now. I miscalculate badly. One minute I’m reaching for the bed frame, and the next I’m toppling to the ground in a tangle of sheets. My butt takes the brunt of it, hitting the cold flooring with a thud. I bite my tongue—on instinct—as I grab my backside, muffling my shriek of pain. I

Chapter Six

I’m tongue-tied. “I—” I stammer for the first second, unable to look at him. “It was a mistake.” A genuine one. And it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t said we should sleep in the same bed. “It won’t happen again,” I tell him, lifting my head to face him. “As long as I have my own room.” “You have your own room, Miss Alina,” he says, with a little frown between his brows, as if the question makes no sense to him. My shoulders slump in relief. “Tha–” “The sleeping arrangements remain the same, however.” My jaw drops. I stare at him blankly. “You just said I had my room. To myself. Now you’re saying I have to sleep with you?” For some reason, I’m vividly reminded of how firm it felt against my fingers… how big it looked with his pants hanging loose from his waist. A traitorous shiver sinks to my stomach. I force the image out, shaking my head firmly. “I can’t promise I’m not going to—" I swallow thickly, searching for a safer word, “get on your

Chapter Seven

A black, sleek Mercedes car. Of course. Adrian Hawthorne, one of New York’s finest and wealthiest heirs, wouldn’t choose anything less. The car I rode in when he took me from the auction house was more expensive, with plush leather chairs that melted my bones as I touched them. I’d forgotten about my worries for a minute back then. Just like I forgot about the conversation we had two days ago, in his dining room, when I told him I could take the bus to school. “You’re free to hate me. You’re not free to leave as you please.” And then he’d folded his paper aside and walked out of the room without touching a single bite of his food, as if my mere existence were enough to ruin his appetite. “Miss–” The man standing by the back door, holding it open, prompted me to enter. I dug my heels into the terraced ground for a hot minute. I could defy him—tell the driver, politely, to take a day off. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I don’t think Adrian would, th

Chapter Eight

The rest of my classes move slowly, and by the third one, I’m wishing I’d allowed Adrian’s men follow me into Finance. It might’ve gotten a few stares—maybe more than a few, but at least I’d have something to distract me. I don’t see them lurking around, either. The car was gone when I stepped out of the hall, and no burly-looking man appeared behind me as I moved around the campus building. I didn’t think Adrian suddenly decided I was right, though. A man like him would rather chew nails. I knew they were around—probably blending in with the trees and the sculptures littered across the campus environment. They’d fit right in with the sculptures. I drag my bag higher on my shoulder as I walk into my final class, sighing audibly. I make my way to the back, as usual, plopping in an empty row. The lecturer hasn’t shown up. “Hi.” I turn, my brows furrowing when I see a boy standing by my desk. Shaggy blond hair, the kind that women always fa

Chapter Nine

“Hey.” I jump out of my skin, staggering backwards and losing my balance at the same time. Julian reaches out, his fingers coolly slipping around my wrist and breaking my fall. “Woah,” he says, “what happened in there to make you so jumpy?” I roll my eyes at him before I can stop myself, but I don’t feel any remorse seeing the twitchy smile on his lips. “You did that on purpose.” “Me?” He points at his chest, feigning ignorance with widened eyes. “Why would I do that? My brother would have my head if I stopped your heart.” “Yeah, right,” I mutter under my breath, pushing my bag higher. I stare ahead, glancing around for the car. I didn’t think I would miss the bodyguards, but at least they didn’t talk my ear off or tease me for personal entertainment. “Hey!” I hear Julian calling after me. “Wait up! I didn’t mean it, I promise.” I know he’s lying. Julian Hawthorne might not be as cold, demanding, or thick-headed as his oldest brother, but he’s definitely a walk

Chapter Ten

Julian stretches out a hand, standing outside the car. We’re parked with the line of cars just outside the red carpet, with bright flashes from paparazzi cameras going off. My palm is sweaty, and I’m starting to lose the tiny courage that brought me all the way. I hesitate, glancing over his shoulder at the people walking the carpet. Rich. Filthy wealthy. They look it. Not playing a part—like me in a dress I could never afford, even if I worked nonstop for a year and saved every last cent. “You’re not chickening out, are you?” Julian murmurs. I turn to him, my lashes fluttering quickly as I try to hide the truth. He looks back and sighs dramatically, shaking his head. Then he leans closer, his voice dropping. “If you think you don’t belong, then you’re wrong, Alina. I promise you, all these people care about is bragging about how much they have and how much they can get away with.” He dips his head, so much closer that I can smell his cologne. It’s something expensi

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