Embracing Storm

CHAPTER FOUR: SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER

~STORM’S POV~

I am sitting down, my back leans back slightly with an arm draping casually over the backrest of a vintage black leather couch inside a private box on the top floor. My other hand rests on my thigh with my legs spread just enough for my comfort as I watch the host clear his throat and make different hypes about the last item for tonight’s auction.

“Number 1, do come up to the stage,” he utters as he turns his head towards a wide gray door at the side of the stage.

I do not bother to look towards the door as I already know who the number belongs to. I sip my wine, leaving my focus on the host.

“Stunning!” I hear the host’s exclamation, commanding my attention to the door, and the moment I see her on that red dress, I feel a twitch in my d**k.

Was she this beautiful the time I saw her in her father’s house?

I notice her suck in her lower lip because she is probably nervous, and all I can think of is how those lips will fit perfectly round my c*ck.

“Dammit!” I curse out when I notice a lot of lustful gazes shooting towards her.

“One million dollars,” I hear the host’s voice, dragging my attention back to her face.

I notice her body tremble, probably due to her shock. I did not tell her she is going to be auctioned so I know why she reacts that way.

I lean forward and narrow my eyes on her, taking in every bit of expression her face shows.

The host whispers something to her, and I can see her body grow rigid. He must have threatened her.

My breath seizes the moment her eyes meets mine. Although she cannot possibly see me because of the one-way glass wall, I can see every bit of emotion that is dancing in her eyes.

I watch her lips tremble, and the way she blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. But I can still see them, shimmering in the corner of her eyes, just waiting, and it hit me—how hard she is trying to keep it together, and how close she is to breaking.

“Dammit!” a curse escapes my lips again. Why am I feeling this way? Her father clearly owes me money.

“One point five million dollars,” a man in the crowd announces as the fight for the highest bidder starts.

“Three million,” another man raises his board in opposition, and I notice her bite her lower lip again.

Turning my attention towards one of my men in the room, I give him a few instructions. He nods in understanding before leaving the room.

“Fifty million dollars,” the host reads out from a billboard that comes on causing the crowd to erupt with loud gasps.

A satisfied smirk stretched out on my face as I watched a few men scratch their temples and scroll through their phones. They are probably checking to see if they can go on with the bidding.

Seeing them shake their heads in disappointment, I lean back in sheer victory.

“Fifty million going once... going twice...” the hosts begins his verdict and I can feel the sense of accomplishment pat my shoulders.

“Fifty-five million!” a voice interrupts rudely, dragging my relaxed self to lean forward.

--

~NATALIE’S POV~

I snap my head towards the host as soon as I understood his words “What?” I shudder.

Does this mean I am here to be sold and not for a contest?

“It is better to be sold to the highest bidder than to have your organs removed and sold. Don’t you think?” The host suddenly whispers a threat, causing my body to turn stiff.

Tears were threatening to fall out from my eyes, but I remained still, not wanting to anger whoever chooses to buy me in the end.

Different prices are flying through the sky, making me wonder how one can have so much money to throw away. Suddenly, I hear the loud gasps from the crowd and I raise my eyes to a billboard.

Fifty million? Someone actually wants to buy me for fifty million?

“Fifty million going once... going twice...” I hear the host play with his words like he is having fun selling a fellow being off like an item.

My heart beat accelerates as the tension in the room grows strong. No other person makes an attempt to oppose the figure, making me even more nervous and curious about who the person actually is, and just when the host is about to hit his gravel, a masculine voice interrupts him.

“Fifty-five million dollars,” the man raises his board with a cold smile.

My eyes shoots up to the direction of the voice and I see Harvey. What is he doing here? Did he feel guilty and decide to come to my rescue?” a smile of hope tugged at my lips as I could feel the moment of redemption course throw my veins.

“One hundred million dollars!” another voice echoed.

My eyes remains on Harvey, hoping he would do something to rectify the situation, but as I see him move his head to another direction, my heart fell.

“Sold!” the host hits his gravel, declaring that I have been sold like a commodity in the market square.

My goddess! Who in the moon have I been sold to?