Filthy Beautiful Lies (Filthy Beautiful Lies 1)

My head spins and I feel faint. A million dollars? For me? There is no way I’m worth that as a sex slave. Once he realizes how inexperienced I am–not just at sex, but at everything–he’ll have buyer’s remorse, and maybe even try and return me. Yet still, I hold my breath, praying that no one will outbid him. Something inside me–woman’s intuition, a gut feeling, tells me that out of all these men here tonight, I am supposed to go home with him, but the thought of actually giving myself over to one of these monsters for six months is terrifying.

I have nothing to go on but a clean, sleek, black leather shoe… but he gives off a good vibe. Maybe at the very least I’d be well taken care of. Panic threatens to overwhelm me. Breath, Soph.

"She’s yours. No pussy’s worth that much," the other man bites out, shifting in his seat.

My lungs fill with oxygen as I pull in a much needed breath, filling my chest cavity.

"Our final object up for auction has been sold. Gentlemen, thank you for your participation tonight. If you would kindly make your way to the lounge area through the rear door to finalize payments and collect your earlier purchases. Drinks are available and some in-house entertainment if you’re in the mood."

The announcer’s voice buzzes in my head.

I’ve been sold.

Men rise from their chairs and I hear footsteps retreat as they exit the room. A door closes in the distance, leaving just my new master and me alone in the silent room.

I want to step down off the humiliating stage I’ve been made to stand on. I want my clothes. But I remain rooted in place, realizing for the first time that my actions are no longer my own.

"Come forward," he commands.

I swallow and step down off the platform, my legs heavy from remaining in one spot for so long. I take slow strides across the room like I’m approaching a dangerous animal. Maybe I am. What kind of man buys a woman?

"I won’t hurt you," he encourages and I take another tentative step closer, stopping directly in front of his chair. "Lights," he says to no one in particular and the overhead lights all flick on at once. Blinking several times against the sudden rush of light, my eyes remain downcast as they struggle to adjust.

Disoriented, I continue looking down, studying his shoes, which are now both resting squarely on the floor. "Look at me," he says.

I lift my chin and take in the man seated before me. Black suit. White crisp shirt. Thin black tie knotted loosely at his neck.

I inhale again, forcing another breath into my lungs and finally look into the eyes of the man who has just spent one million dollars to purchase me. Sky blue eyes fringed in heavy black lashes stare back at me, stealing the breath from my lungs. He is stunning. Tall, fit, and attractive. Confusion washes over me. What is a man like this doing here? He could walk into any bar in America and pick up a girl easily enough. My stomach twists in recognition. That can only mean that his tastes are peculiar enough that he requires complete obedience. He’ll want things no normal girl would do. Oh god, I feel like I’m going to pass out. I can’t let this attractive monster lure me in.

"Just breathe," he says, calming my fears.

I obey like a good little slave, opening my mouth and sucking in air greedily.

"That’s it," he says soothingly, his own posture relaxing just slightly. "What should I call you?"

It’s an interesting way to phrase the question. He didn’t ask me for my name. Maybe he’s assuming I’ll give him a fake identity. And I probably would have if I’d been thinking clearly. Instead I whisper, "Sophie." As soon as it’s off my lips, I momentarily regret giving him my real name. But then I realize I’ll be living with him for six months and I don’t think I can keep up with the lie of a fake identity that entire time. I’ll already be lying to my family and friends about where I am. No sense making this even more difficult on myself.

He tilts his head to the side, continuing to study me. "Call me Drake," he says finally. I wonder if Drake is his real name.

Just when I’m beginning to think he’s going to make me stand here all night, he rises from the chair. Having his full height in front of me is daunting. I’m average height, and he’s at least a foot taller than me, well over six feet. I stagger back a step.

"Come with me." He turns and heads toward the exit and like an obedient pet, I follow closely behind him.

When we reach the steel door I entered through just thirty minutes before, it feels like I’m exiting as a whole different person. Drake turns to face me before opening the door. "Would you like my jacket?"

I look down at myself – at my pale blue panties that now feel childish and my hands which haven’t strayed from my breasts. I nod weakly.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he’s even more muscular than I first realized. His tailored dress shirt clings to his broad shoulders and defined chest. It sends a ripple of fear through my gut. Yes, he’s attractive, but he’s also strong. Which means I’ll stand zero chance of defending myself against him if he gets too rough.

Ignoring my visual inspection of his body, he places the jacket over my shoulders, closing the lapels over my chest and buttoning the first button. I thought he might demand to see me – to inspect me for himself, but he only seems concerned with getting us the hell out of here. Which is fine by me.

Once I’m covered by the jacket, I let my hands fall away and lower my arms, my stiff joints crying out from being in the same position for so long. My arms hang uselessly at my sides and I follow him out into the hall. As grateful as I am for his jacket, I can’t mistake this first bit of kindness from him for more than it is. He doesn’t want other men’s eyes on something he’s just purchased for himself.

We pass several others on the way out and I keep my eyes on Drake’s shoes as I follow him down the hall, a false sense of security settling over me.

Chapter Two

Sophie

He stops outside the dressing room I used earlier. "Are your clothes in there?"

I nod and mumble an unintelligible reply.

"Get dressed," he commands, his tone smooth.

I duck my head and push my way inside the small changing room. Once inside, I cannot keep my eyes from darting toward the mirror where I stood applying mascara just a short time ago. I can already see that the girl looking back at me is someone different. The black suit coat swallows me up, proclaiming me to belong to someone other than myself.