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

Warm air hits me as I step out of the plane. Riggs stands at the bottom of the steps, and I bounce down them, leaping into his arms.

He squeezes me tight, then kisses me, asking, ‘How was your interview?’

‘Awesome,’ I gush.

Noah clears his throat behind me, adding, ‘She did great.’

Riggs locks eyes with him. ‘I don’t doubt it. See you tonight. Make sure you bring your checkbook.’ He leads me over to his Porsche and opens the door.

I slide inside.

He gets in the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and asks, ‘So, what was it like?’

I shrug. ‘It was the same as all the others.’ This month, Noah’s kept me busy with interviews. They’re fun, and my single is climbing the charts. It’s currently at number five, which is beyond my wildest dreams for my first single. Ears and Noah claim it will hit number one, but I’m grateful for all the initial success I’m having.

‘Something happened while you were in the air,’ Riggs claims.

‘What?’

His grin widens. He kisses the back of my hand and declares, ‘You’re at number four.’

I gape at him. It only hit number five yesterday.

He chuckles. ‘Don’t look so shocked. You’re going to the top, pet.’

‘It’s just surreal,’ I mutter.

He squeezes my hand and veers into another lane. ‘Well, get used to it, Mrs. Madden. Your album is amazing.’

My butterflies kick off. It happens every time he calls me Mrs. Madden.

He turns down another street, then pulls into a parking garage, stating, ‘We don’t have a lot of time to get ready.’

‘We’re not going home to Malibu?’ I question.

He stops at a concrete wall, rolls his window down, then puts his hand on the screen. The wall lifts, displaying a tiny area. He drives the car into it.

My goose bumps break out. ‘Are we at Apartment Thirteen?’

‘No. This is my L.A. apartment.’

‘How many do you have?’

He shrugs. ‘A few dozen. But this is where I stay if I need to be in the city.’

‘Is this where you were for all those weeks?’ I ask, my voice dropping at the memory of how bad it felt to not know where he was and worry about whether he would ever return home.

‘Yeah,’ he replies, then the concrete wall shuts. The lift moves up.

‘Are all your places locked up like this?’ I question.

‘Only the ones I use. The ones I rent aren’t as secure.’

We stop moving and the doors in front of us open.

Riggs maneuvers the car forward and then reverses into a spot. He turns off the Porsche, gets out, then opens my door. He reaches in and states, ‘Our driver will be here in an hour and a half.’

I rise, and he leads me through another secure door, a small entryway, and into a penthouse. I freeze, gushing, ‘Wow.’

The entire L.A. skyline glimmers through the penthouse’s windows. It’s one of the most incredible views I’ve ever seen.

He slides his arm around my waist. ‘Glad you approve.’

‘How did you find this place?’ I question.

‘Years ago, I stumbled on it.’

‘It’s breathtaking,’ I claim.

He kisses me on the head. ‘Let me show you around.’

He gives me a tour, then leads me back into the main suite. ‘We should get moving so we aren’t late.’

‘I assume I have a dress here?’ I ask.

He wiggles his eyebrows. ‘Of course.’ He slides his fingers around the hot-pink collar around my neck. He unclasps it, then kisses the curve of my neck. He squeezes my ass and then states, ‘Get in the shower.’

I obey. After showering, I dry and then curl my hair. I ask Riggs, ‘What do you think about my hair if I do something like this?’ I twist it up to show what I’m thinking about doing.

His eyes light in approval. He affirms, ‘Go for it, pet.’

I secure my hair with pins into a messy updo, then apply my makeup.

I debate about what lip color I should use, then question, ‘What color is my dress?’

He rolls his deodorant over his armpit and answers, ‘Deep red.’

I pick up my red stain and apply it. Then I enter the closet and find a gorgeous, floor-length dress hanging up. I open the lingerie drawer, but Riggs shuts it.

He asserts, ‘Nothing underneath tonight.’

I fight to hide my smile but can’t. When Riggs tells me not to wear panties, it usually involves something dirty in public. I often wonder if it’s challenging for him to tease me while no one else knows what’s happening.

He leans into my ear. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be bored this evening.’

I softly laugh. ‘Okay, then. Nothing underneath.’ I unzip the dress and step into it. It’s sleeveless, backless, and has a built-in push-up bra. I close the zipper under my left arm and spin.

Riggs dangles a pair of red, six-inch stilettos in front of me, stating, ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

I take the shoes, go to the bed, and sit down. I slide into them.

Riggs walks out of the closet, wearing his tux pants and buttoning his shirt, with a jacket and bow tie slung over his arm. His ink quickly disappears.

My heart pounds harder. My husband is beyond gorgeous. I kind of like the fact most people don’t get to see his tattoos.

He steps to the dresser, removes the lid off a box, and hands me a pair of oversized, black-and-white diamond chandelier drop earrings.

‘Wow!’ I exclaim, taking them from him.

‘Glad you like them,’ he says.

I put them on and glance in the mirror, declaring, ‘They’re perfect!’

He slides a matching choker around my neck. His fingers trace the spaces between the diamonds, and he claims, ‘The setting is strong enough for me to slip anything through here. I could keep you restrained for hours.’

My pulse skyrockets. I squeeze my thighs, stating, ‘I’ve been a good girl.’

He chuckles and kisses the back of my neck. Tingles erupt underneath his lips. He murmurs, ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

I spin into him and slide my arms over his shoulders. I ask, ‘What do you think people will think? When they find out we’re married?’

He grunts. ‘I could give a shit what they think, but the men will all be jealous.’

I bite on my smile.

He pecks me on the lips, and his phone vibrates. He pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen, and then announces, ‘Driver’s here.’

I step back, and he slides the bow tie through his collar. I reach forward and tie it.

His lips twitch. ‘When did you learn to do this?’

I shrug. ‘Every girl in Beverly Hills gets taught to tie a man’s bow tie.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yep.’ I finish securing it and rise on my toes, but I’m only a few inches shorter than Riggs in the heels.

He puts on his jacket and leads me to an elevator. We get in and when it stops, it opens into a lobby. He nods to the security guards as we pass, then steers me outside toward an SUV.

The driver opens the back door, and I slide into the vehicle. Riggs follows and shuts the divider window. He tugs me closer to him and says, ‘I forgot to tell you. I scheduled a meeting with the designer on Tuesday.’

‘For?’ I question.

‘Your wing.’

I arch my eyebrows, surprised. ‘You want me to meet the designer?’

‘Yeah. Your name’s on it. The final design should be something you approve,’ he asserts.

‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

I kiss him. ‘Thank you. For all of this. It…’ I swallow the emotions climbing up my throat. I manage to admit, ‘It means a lot to me.’

Sadness flares in his blues. He says, ‘Hopefully, it’ll help a lot of people.’

If only it would save my mother.

I try to push the thought to the back of my mind. I can’t afford to go down that rabbit hole this evening.

The event isn’t far. The driver parks in front of the red carpet, and Riggs gets out. He reaches in for me, and camera lights flash as soon as I step out. Reporters scream questions, and Riggs leads me through the crowd, answering questions with brief responses, then stops at the top of the steps.

‘How long have you and Blakely Fox been dating?’ a man hollers.

Riggs tightens his hand around my hip, securing me next to his body. ‘We’re not dating.’

The crowd laughs.

He announces, ‘Let me introduce all of you to my wife, Blakely Fox-Madden.’

There’s a brief moment of stunned silence before the shouting chaos reignites. Riggs spins me and leads me inside. He murmurs in my ear, ‘Now everyone knows you’re mine.’

My flutters reappear. I tilt my head and smile at him, stating, ‘And you’re mine. You’re off the market, Mr. Madden.’

He asserts, ‘I was off the market the minute you stepped on that stage, pet.’

My heart soars. I open my mouth, and Ears’s voice tears through the air. ‘Blakely! You look stunning!’

We turn, and Ears embraces me, then kisses my cheek. ‘I heard Atlanta went well?’

I nod. ‘It was great.’

We make small talk, and more people from the studio arrive. Riggs excuses us, stating we need to make our rounds. He leads me through the room, saying to each group of guests, ‘You know my wife, Blakely, correct?’ or ‘Let me introduce you to my wife, Blakely.’

The look on those who know me through my parents is always the same. Pure shock. But something else registers on the faces of some of my parents’ friends. I can’t put my finger on it, and it makes me a bit uncomfortable. I eventually realize that the common denominator is all of them are country club members.

I chalk it up to the fact I’ve never enjoyed any of them and push it out of my mind, standing tall next to Riggs, feeling loved and powerful.

After a glass of champagne, I tell Riggs, ‘I need to use the restroom.’

‘Excuse us,’ he tells a group of people and then guides me to the restroom.

I go inside, do my business, then reapply a coat of lip stain to ensure it stays fresh. One of my mother’s friends comes inside and says, ‘How have you been, Blakely? It’s been so long.’

I nod. ‘Yes, it has. I’m great, Cheryl.’

She scans my face, then asks, ‘Have you talked to your parents recently?’

My face heats. I lift my chin. ‘No.’

She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut.

I need to get out of here. No need to give her any other ammo for the gossip.

‘Nice seeing you,’ I state, then exit the bathroom and freeze.

My heart pounds hard against my chest. I grip the wall to keep my balance.

My father and Riggs are in a heated conversation. My father has never looked so disheveled. He appears to have aged at least thirty years. It makes him seem small and weak.

My father seethes, ‘Blakely Fox-Madden!’

Riggs boasts, ‘She’s mine, and you’re going to stay away from her. I don’t know how you got in here, but you aren’t welcome. Leave.’

My father’s eyes turn to slits. He snarls, ‘Does she know you sent all those pictures of her to me? Or what about the porn videos or audio clips?’

Goose bumps pop out of my skin. What is my father talking about? Surely Riggs wouldn’t do something like that.

My father threatens, ‘You’ll pay for this if it’s the last—’

‘Don’t you threaten me. One call and you’re spending the rest of your days in jail,’ Riggs warns.

‘Over what?’ my father spits.

‘I know about the offshore accounts,’ Riggs informs him.

My father’s eyes widen.

Riggs snarls, ‘Game’s up, Hugh. Tomorrow you’re signing your shares of the company over to me.’

‘Bullshit!’ my father blurts out.

‘Blakely, my baby!’ my mother’s voice shrieks.

I turn my head, and she lunges through the hallway, tugging me into her arms.

I gape over her shoulder.

My father and Riggs stare at me. Both my father and mother are intoxicated, my father more than I’ve ever seen him, but my mother reeks of alcohol.

My stomach churns. Her body is way too thin. I can feel her bones.

She slurs, ‘Did he force you to do those things?’

‘What things?’ I question, tearing my eyes off hers and locking them on Riggs.

‘Shut up, Madelyn!’ Riggs orders.

My belly quivers. I lock eyes with him, demanding, ‘What are they talking about?’

‘Nothing. They’re drunk.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Riggs.’

My father shoves his phone at me. ‘Have a look yourself.’

Riggs snaps it out of my hand. ‘I’m calling security. Neither of you are staying.’

Anger fills me. My voice shakes, and my eyes fill with tears. ‘What did you do?’

‘Everything’s under control. I’m sorry they’re here. I’ll have them removed,’ he replies.

Rage tornadoes through me. I try to control my wavering voice, insisting, ‘Tell me now what you’ve done.’

‘Pet—’

‘Did you send footage of me to my father?’ I interrogate.

His eyes fill with guilt. He tries to hide it, but I know him.

I brush past him, warning, ‘Stay away from me.’ I walk as quickly as possible in the stilettos toward the main door.

‘Blakely!’ Riggs shouts, following me.

‘Baby,’ my mother shrieks again.

The entire room turns quieter, and eyes follow me. I push through the crowd and step outside.

‘Blakely,’ Riggs calls again.

I tear down the steps, past the media, who scream at me.

Noah’s getting out of his car. I call out, ‘Noah!’

He assesses the situation, then meets me a few steps from the car. He ushers me into the backseat. ‘Get in.’

‘Blakely!’ Riggs shouts again.

I slide into Noah’s backseat, and he follows.

Riggs pounds on the window, and the driver takes off.

We weave in and out of the L.A. streets as more shock fills me.

I need to find out what Riggs sent them.

How could he do this?

No. My father has to be lying.

Riggs is capable of anything.

My gut flips faster.

Noah quietly asks, ‘Blakely, what’s going on?’

I stay quiet, fighting tears.

‘Blakely?’ Noah asks again.

I blurt out, ‘I need you to take me to Malibu.’

‘Why there?’

‘I need to go home before Riggs gets there. Can you take me?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees and pushes the button for the divider. He tells the driver, ‘Malibu. Blakely, what’s the address?’

I state it, then Noah puts the divider window up.

‘What did Riggs do?’

I don’t answer, just shake my head and turn toward the window, doing my best to hold in my tears.

When we pull up to the gate, I order, ‘Stay here, please.’ I get out, put my hand on the screen, and the side door opens. I get through the gate, then put my hand on the alarm for the house and go directly to the bedroom.

I grab a suitcase out of the closet, open it, and toss a few outfits inside. I go into the bathroom and gather my toiletries. Then I slide it into the zippered pocket of the suitcase.

My hand hits something. I pull it out, and the hairs on my arms rise. It’s a burner phone, similar to the one Riggs gave me.

My gut tells me to turn it on. I push the button, and my stomach pitches. There’s only one number on it. It’s my father’s.

I scroll through the text messages, feeling more ill with each one. My voice fills the air, and my face and body appear in multiple audio and video clips.

How could he?

My father’s angry, threatening messages and Riggs’s taunting ones all become blurry.

‘I can explain everything.’ Riggs’s voice tears my eyes off the phone.

I feel nauseous. My voice shakes, and I seethe, ‘Don’t you dare.’

‘Pet…’

‘Don’t ever call me that again.’

He shuts his mouth. For the first time, I see fear in his eyes.

I swallow down bile, toss the phone in the suitcase, and zip it up.

He closes the gap between us and tugs me into him.

I push him away. ‘Do not touch me!’

‘Blakely, let’s discuss this!’

I shove him as hard as I can. Tears stream down my cheeks.

He stumbles back, and I bolt past him. He follows me, demanding. ‘Blakely, wait!’

I carry the suitcase out of the house, and he grabs my arm.

‘Stop!’ I scream.

He keeps his grip on me.

I hiss, ‘I said stop. At least abide by my safe word.’

He freezes. Shock fills his features.

I retreat, walking backward, claiming, ‘I trusted you.’

‘You need to let me explain.’

‘Explain? Explain what? That you sent intimate things to my father? That you used me for revenge? Is that why you married me?’ I accuse, my heart breaking at the thought.

‘No, of course not. I love you,’ he declares.

A sad laugh bursts out of me. I assert, ‘You don’t know what love is, Riggs. Stay away from me.’ I step through the gate door.

‘Blakely.’ He grabs my arm again.

I angrily spin and jab my finger into his chest. ‘I said stop.’

He clenches his jaw, then quietly begs, ‘Don’t do this, pet.’

My vision turns blurry. ‘You did this, Riggs. Not me. And you know what?’

He swallows hard, waiting. More tears fall. I add, ‘You’re just like my father.’

Pain fills his expression. ‘No, I’m not.’

I wipe my tears.

Noah grabs my suitcase, ordering, ‘Get in the car, Blakely.’

‘Stay out of this, Noah,’ Riggs warns.

Noah puts the suitcase in his trunk.

I get into the car.

‘Blakely,’ Riggs tries again, in a desperate tone that kills me.

Noah slides next to me, slamming the door. Riggs pounds on the window. ‘Blakely!’

The car pulls away.

We get several blocks before I ask, ‘Can you find me a place to stay tonight?’

He shakes his head. ‘No. I’m taking you to my place. You can stay as long as you need.’

I don’t argue. I’m too distraught to even come up with any other plan. I always knew Riggs had a dark side, but I never believed he would use it to hurt me.

He used me to get at my father. I should have put two and two together about why he wanted me in his life.

The truth flares, breaking my heart into millions of pieces.

Riggs isn’t capable of love. He’s only capable of pain and revenge.