The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(42)

For several moments, I sit in the car, fighting the adrenaline pooling in my cells over the thought of seeing my pet. I remind myself of several things.

I must retain full control over Blakely at all times.

Real submission can only be achieved after one has been broken into pieces and put back together.

Everything must be earned. I'm not entitled to anyone, including Blakely. It all has to be her choice, but she'll have to demonstrate it, or our journey will end before it begins.





13





Blakely





Blank pages stare back at me. I've played all the songs I've written in the past on the new piano and belted out the lyrics, trying to find some inspiration, yet nothing comes.

All I can think about are the moments I've spent with Riggs. I even went for a walk on the beach, trying to decipher why he acted like he did before he left.

It didn't help. If anything, I'm more confused about his erratic behavior. What happened between us in the shower should have brought us closer. Now the wedge is between us again.

I'm trying to understand his motivation, but nothing makes sense. And as much as I want to let it go, I'm obsessed with trying to figure it out, which isn't helping me write any new lyrics.

It's almost six when I realize I never called my employers. I cringe and pick up the phone, calling the lounge first.

"Lizard Lounge," Jarrod answers.

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I'm about to hear his wrath. I reply, "Hey, Jarrod. It's Blakely."

"Where are you? You're up in five minutes," he frets.

Guilt eats at me. Jarrod was the first lounge manager to give me a real shot. I hate doing this, but I have no choice in my current circumstances. I inform him, "I'm so sorry, Jarrod, but I had an emergency. I'm out of town and won't be back for a while."

"What? You aren't serious," he says.

I tap my fingers on my thighs, wincing. "I'm sorry, but I am."

"You couldn't call sooner?"

"I'm sorry, but no. I didn't have a phone," I lie.

"Since when?" he snaps.

I decide there isn't a way to stop him from being angry with me, and it's best to end this call. I declare, "I really am sorry. I have to go. Thank you for all you've done for me."

"Wait! When are you—"

I hang up and stare out the window. The day begins to morph into the night, and the sky is a beautiful pink, glowing in the fading light. My heart continues racing.

Get it over with.

I force myself to call Cheeks and ask for Savannah.

"Where did you go the other night? Are you okay?" she answers.

I cringe again. She's another person I've never wanted to let down. I should have called yesterday. I never thought about how she would worry. I assure her, "I'm fine. But I have to quit."

Her voice turns into a mix of shock and a snarl. "Excuse me?"

"I'm really sorry. I had an emergency and won't be in town for a long time," I tell her.

"What kind of emergency?" she interrogates.

My chest tightens. I tap harder on my thigh, replying, "I can't get into it. Thank you for our time together."

"Blakely, you can't just—"

I hang up, knowing there's nothing further I can say. Then I pace around the living area, struggling with guilt.

Riggs walks in, asking, "What's going on, pet?"

Relief hits me that he's here, taking me by surprise. I'm an independent person, so why do I keep feeling this when he returns?

He doesn't give me time to process it, closing the space between us. The scent of woodsy spice laced with orange peels flares in my nostrils, calming me while stirring the deepest part of my core. He slides his palm on my cheek, arches his eyebrows, and questions, "Blakely?"

I admit, "I forgot to call my employers earlier. I just did."

"And?"

"I feel horrible for not giving them more notice and letting them down."

He claims, "They'll be fine."

"But—"

He puts his fingers over my lips, asserting, "It's over. They'll figure it out. That's life. Now, come with me." He takes my hand and leads me to the front door.

"Where are we going?"

"To the city."

Nerves fill me. I blurt out, "I don't want to go there. I'm safe here."

He freezes and assesses me. Tension builds, and he cuts through it, questioning, "Do you think I would let anyone hurt you?"

I swallow hard, answering, "No."

"Do you believe I'd let anyone near you who I didn't deem harmless to your well-being?"

I shake my head. "No."

He picks up my hand and kisses it, declaring, "Then you have nothing to worry over. Let's go, pet." He returns to guiding me out of the house and to the passenger side of his Porsche. He opens the door.

I get in, and he shuts the door, then goes around the car and slides next to me, turning on the car. He reaches toward the roof and presses a button. The wooden gates at the end of the driveway open, and he pulls out.

"Why are we going to the city?" I inquire.