The Auction: A Dark Romance: Chapter 22

‘I‘m being hacked! All my personal accounts and the bank freezes aren’t working!’ Hugh declares over the phone.

My grin grows wider. I utilize my most concerned voice. ‘Are the business accounts safe?’

‘George confirmed there’s no breach,’ he states.

I continue, ‘That’s good to hear.’

Hugh booms, ‘But I’m getting drained!’

I add, ‘That sucks. I’m sure the bank will figure it out though. Best to stay calm. Besides, the bank has to refund your money if it’s a hack.’

‘They have. But as soon as they refund me, another hack occurs.’

‘Maybe you should move banks,’ I suggest, rolling my deodorant over my armpit.

‘It’s happening at all five places my accounts are at,’ he frets.

‘Shit,’ I mutter, but I know he’s in it deeper than he’s stating. The offshore accounts don’t refund your money in the event of a hack. Jones looked into it. When he confirmed, it only made everything sweeter. I guess that’s the price you pay for screwing over your business partner and clients.

‘Someone’s after me!’ Hugh claims.

‘Sounds like it,’ I agree, knowing it’ll only make him more paranoid.

‘Who the fuck has the balls to come after me?’ he barks.

I stare at my reflection, giddy. I answer, ‘Someone with big balls.’

He grunts.

‘I have to go. Stay calm. It’ll all get worked out. If anything happens to our business accounts, notify me immediately.’ I hang up before he can say anything else.

I whistle as I get dressed, feeling like I just took a hit of a really potent drug. Hugh’s call came after I sent him a picture of Blakely in a white bra and panty set. I wrote a little note to go with it.

A slew of pissed-off texts followed.

He continued tossing texts at me, even though I stopped responding. Ten minutes later, I got the call.

‘You’re in a good mood,’ Blakely declares, stepping into the closet.

I tug her into me and kiss her.

She freezes, then kisses me back.

It’s something that happens more often every time I kiss her. I don’t know why she freezes. She never used to. I chalk it up that I’m taking her by surprise and don’t linger on it like I sometimes do. Nothing is going wrong today. I proclaim, ‘I am. Today’s your big day.’

Nervousness floods her features.

I peck her lips and assert, ‘Don’t be nervous. You said you were ready.’

She takes a deep breath, smiles, and nods. ‘You’re right. I am.’

‘That’s my girl!’ I praise, then pat her ass. ‘Get ready so we’re not late. Traffic’s going to be a bitch.’ I leave the room and reply to a few emails, continuing to feel like I’m on top of the world.

Blakely appears, wearing ripped designer jeans, an oversized lavender sweater, and brown ankle boots. She chose it when I took her shopping last weekend. Her hair hangs in her natural beachy waves, and she has minimal makeup on.

‘You look great,’ I tell her.

She puts on a brave smile.

I chuckle. ‘Are you always nervous before a performance?’

‘This isn’t the same thing,’ she claims.

‘But are you normally nervous?’

She hesitates, then shakes her head. ‘No.’

‘Then I have an idea.’

‘What’s that?’ she questions.

I rise, take off her gold collar, and drape an eggplant purple one around her neck. Diamonds sparkle around it, and there’s only one ring. It’s on the back, hidden. I bought it for her when she told me what she was wearing to record.

She reaches up and traces over it. She says, ‘I think I’m going to have the most expensive choker collection on Earth.’

I grin. ‘You mean collar collection.’

She rolls her eyes.

I suggest, ‘Why don’t you just pretend you’re on stage instead of in a studio.’

Her face falls again. ‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Try.’

She blows out an anxious breath of air. ‘I will.’

‘Good girl.’ I slide my hand around her waist, then lead her to the front door and out to the Porsche. We get inside, and I head toward the studio. I turn the music up.

Blakely turns it off. ‘Sorry, but I need some silence right now.’

I glance at her, and her face is pale. She has her hand over her stomach.

‘You’re going to kill it, pet,’ I reassure her.

She closes her eyes and leans back against the headrest.

For the rest of the ride, we don’t speak. I take her hand and hold it, caressing the back of it with my thumb. She never opens her eyes until I park and turn off the engine.

I gently reassure, ‘Everything will go perfectly. Just sing your heart out.’

She softly laughs. ‘Easy for you to say.’

‘Is singing still your dream?’

‘Of course.’

I point to the front doors. ‘Then your dream is waiting for you inside. You just have to do your thing.’

She taps her fingers on her thigh and blurts out, ‘You might not like what I wrote.’

‘Sure I will.’

She furrows her eyebrows and looks at her lap.

I turn her chin toward me. ‘I’ll love whatever you sing. But I’m not part of this equation, pet. You need to do what you do and not worry about anyone else in the room. Understand?’

She doesn’t look convinced but nods.

Another moment of silence passes. I wish she wasn’t nervous, but the anxiety riddles her expression.

She gives me a small smile and says, ‘Okay. You can open my door now.’

I chuckle. ‘I should spank you later for being bossy.’

She mutters, ‘Maybe you will.’

I chuckle again, then get out of the Porsche. I walk around, open her door, and reach in to help her out. I kiss her and then add, ‘For luck.’

Her smile appears, but it doesn’t light up her face like normal. I decide it’s best to get her inside and into the studio. I’ve not told her about the dozen agents Ears lined up to check her out, and I pat myself on the back for keeping it quiet. I never expected her to be this nervous.

The woman at the front desk changed her hair from bright green to neon orange. She beams at us. ‘Welcome to Naked Pipe Entertainment. You must be Blakely?’ She holds out her hand.

Blakely shakes it and confirms, ‘Yes.’

‘I’m Rhonda. With an h,’ she adds and winks.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Blakely states.

‘You too. He’s quite the fan,’ Rhonda announces and motions toward me.

Blakley glances at me and nods. ‘So I hear.’

‘Let me get you settled. I put a bottle of water in the studio, but if you want something different, just let me know.’

‘Water’s perfect. Thank you,’ Blakley replies, and we follow Rhonda down a hallway.

She leads us into a room with a lot of sound equipment, then opens the door to the recording booth. Several musicians tune their instruments, and Rhonda introduces Blakely to them.

‘I’ll be outside. Have fun,’ I state and kiss Blakley on the head.

‘Thanks.’

I go into the other room, and Ears enters. He goes inside the recording box and introduces himself to Blakely. The sound is off, so I can’t hear, but he says something that makes her laugh.

By the time the musicians are ready, a dozen agents have arrived. Ears gives me the lowdown on each one, along with his top three choices to represent Blakely.

The sound tech flips a switch and announces, ‘Are you ready to start?’

Anxiety appears on her face again. She glances at me, and my pulse creeps higher.

She tears her gaze off me and answers, ‘Yes.’

‘From the top, then,’ he orders.

She puts her headphones over her ears and sits at the piano. She declares, ‘I’m going to go solo on this one… If that’s okay?’

Ears chimes in with, ‘Let’s hear it how you envision it.’

‘This one’s called ‘Invisibly Broken ” She takes a deep breath and begins to stroke the keys. A slow melody fills the air. She locks eyes with me and belts out, More notes fill the air.

She doesn’t tear her gaze off mine, singing, My chest tightens. The notes get faster and louder as she slams her fingers on the keys, blinking hard as her blues never leave mine. My gut slowly flips, and the hairs on my neck rise.

She continues, A tear slips down her cheek.

I clench my fists at my sides, feeling exposed, the words sinking in so deep within me they slice through my heart.

She roars, The notes vibrate in the air, matching the quivering in my belly.

Another tear falls, and her gaze never falters. She sings louder, My mouth turns dry. I swallow hard, trying to calm the chaos inside me.

The notes turn slower. She softens her tone, and a full river of tears rolls over her cheekbones.

Another set of only notes passes. She adds, She continues playing, lowers her voice, and sings, The music stops, her glistening eyes stay pinned on me, and deafening silence ensues.

Ears claps loudly, pulling me out of my trance. He turns to the sound tech, ‘Tell me you got it recorded.’

‘All of it,’ he replies.

‘Fuck me,’ one of the agents mutters.

‘She’s the next Nora Jones,’ another one declares.

‘Told you I wouldn’t waste your time,’ Ears states, then flips on the microphone. He gushes, ‘That’s a hit, superstar.’

Blakley wipes her face, lifts her chin, and squares her shoulders. She redirects her focus on Ears. ‘Thank you.’

‘Are your other songs all on the piano?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Let’s do a round with only the piano, then. Take a break, guys,’ he orders the musicians.

They leave the room and disappear.

For six hours, Blakely sings, stating she doesn’t need a break. Food arrives, but she doesn’t eat, nor do I. She drinks water between songs, insisting she doesn’t need to rest.

She hurls everything she thinks about me, along with how much I’ve hurt her, never singing without her sad, sometimes angry, blues pinned on mine and voice to match.

Nothing’s ever felt so painful. It’s like taking a hammer and hitting me over the head without any mercy. As the day goes on, they bring the musicians in, attempting the songs with different instruments.

It doesn’t matter how many times I hear the lyrics. The words always feel like the first time I’m hearing them, as if they’re a scab and Blakely’s ripping it off me.

‘You got any other material?’ Ears asks.

She states, ‘I’m in the process of writing something, but it’s not done.’

‘You mind singing what you’ve got so far?’ he questions.

‘If you want.’

‘I do,’ he proclaims, then once again clears the recording box. ‘Take another break, boys.’

‘Three, two, one,’ the sound tech directs.

‘This one’s called ‘The End,” Blakely announces, then moves her fingers over the keys. She belts out more revelations.

This time, it’s about how she’s on borrowed time, how she’s not wanted forever, and how she’ll be tossed away.

Every note is heartbreaking. Every blast of her voice, soul crushing. And the constant stare into my eyes supplies a steady stream of chaos to my blood.

she blasts.

She continues, Another tear drips down her cheek.

The air turns stale in my lungs.

She stops playing and says, ‘That’s all I have for that one.’

‘How long until you can finish it?’ Ears questions.

She shrugs. ‘A few days.’

‘Good. Do that. I think we have enough for today. Can you come back next week?’ Ears asks.

‘Of course,’ she responds.

He declares, ‘That’s a wrap, then.’

The room erupts in applause, but Blakely doesn’t beam as she should. She forces a smile and leaves the recording box.

Agents swarm her, introducing themselves and handing her their business cards. Anxiety appears in her expression again, and it’s clear she’s overwhelmed.

I take the business cards from her and interject, ‘Thank you for your enthusiasm. We’ll schedule meetings with those of you we’re interested in dealing with. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Blakely’s had a long day.’ I steer her out of the room.

‘Riggs,’ Ears calls after me.

I spin us, arching my eyebrows.

He steps in front of us and nods at Blakely, a huge grin overpowering him. He asserts, ‘You got the goods, girl.’

For the first time all day, she beams. ‘You really think so?’

He chuckles. ‘When those agents fight over you, you got the world by the balls.’

She glances at me.

I tug her closer, still shaken by her songs and processing it all while having no clue how to deal with the damage I’ve done.

‘Get some rest, Blakely Fox. Your name is about to go global,’ Ears claims. He pats me on the back.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ I inform him, then lead Blakely to the Porsche. I open the door.

She gets in.

I shut the door, go around to my side, take a deep breath, and slide onto the driver’s seat. A few minutes pass, and I turn to her, trying to figure out what to say. But everything is jumbled.

She slowly meets my gaze.

I finally just admit, ‘You were amazing.’

She says nothing and stares out the window.

I open my mouth, then snap it shut. What am I trying to say anyway?

I turn on the engine and pull out into traffic. We drive in silence, but time doesn’t help my thoughts. All I know is I need to get my shit together and do better. For the first time ever in the history of my relationships, I’m not looking for an out. Yet I’m unsure what that means for either of us.