The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(51)

She closes her sad eyes briefly, then pins them on me. "He's right, you know."

My stomach flips. "About what?"

She asserts, "If you don't get your shit together, they'll enforce rule fourteen."

"Wouldn't you like that?" I snap.

Her eyes widen, then she scoffs. "You have it all wrong, Blakely."

Rage builds within me. I cross my arms. "Oh? And what do I have wrong?"

"He brought me here for your well-being and only yours. I'm not here for him."

"Bullshit."

She shakes her head. "The contract between Riggs and me is over."

"Then why are you here?"

"Like I said, because you need help."

"No, I don't," I claim.

We stare at each other, not saying anything until she breaks the silence. "It's not your business, but I'm in love with someone else. Not that you should fall in love with Riggs. He's not long-term. He's a contract."

Her words cut me. I hate that I know she's right. But I don't want her to see that, so I huff and say, "If you love someone else, you shouldn't be allowing Riggs to touch you."

Her face hardens. "Grow up, Blakely. Good luck at the club." She spins and opens the door, slamming it behind her.

I take a few breaths to calm myself, then turn.

Riggs leans against the hallway wall, his arms crossed, scowl pinned on me.

I walk past him, then go into the bedroom. I step into the empty closet.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I spin. "If you're keeping me here, where are my clothes? I want to put something clean on."

"Maybe that's all you get."

I smirk. "Rule twelve states you have to provide clothing."

His face hardens. "Ah, yes. And I believe that's under the Rules of Engagement During Playtime, isn't it?"

My gut drops.

He adds, "Besides, it looks to me like you're wearing clothes. It seems I've fulfilled my duty."

"Don't be a dick," I hurl.

He lunges toward me, and I step back until I'm against the wall. He slides his hand in my hair behind my head and grasps it tight so I'm unable to look anywhere but at him. His hot breath hits my lips as he states, "Do you think you're the first brat I've broken in?"

My breath hitches, my pulse skyrockets, and the red rage I've felt since he brought me here reignites to an all-time high. I retort, "I'm not a brat."

"No? You sure are acting like one."

"Maybe you should look at your actions."

His eyes turn to slits. "Let's get something straight right now."

I glare at him.

He threatens, "I'm in charge, not you. And you'll speak to me respectfully, or there'll be consequences."

"Respect is earned. Maybe you should learn that."

Hot tension escalates as anger flares on his face. His chest heaves with every breath, and he grinds his molars, shooting darts at me with his pinned gaze.

I swallow hard, not wanting to back down but wondering if I've pushed him too far. And every time that thought crosses my mind, I reprimand myself.

He chose to bring Aria into this, not me.

He steps back and sneers, "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

I don't say anything and don't move.

He steps out of the closet and warns, "Get in the car, or I'll lock you in this apartment for days."

I debate only a few more seconds and realize he'd do it. The last thing I believe is that Riggs bluffs on his threats. I quietly follow him through the apartment and get into the Porsche.

He maneuvers the L.A. streets and then the expressway through the thick smog and traffic. I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts, not sure if I'm overreacting about Aria or if Riggs was right to have her help train me.

As much as I'd like to think I know what I'm doing, I don't. I know nothing about what I've gotten myself into, every day seems to bring up a new issue I never contemplated, and Riggs is so hot and cold it keeps me in a constant state of confusion.

This business with the club should have been explained to me. I feel tricked. Then again, they do it for my protection, according to Riggs. Yet I don't know what to expect when I get there, nor do I know why he thinks I'm not submitting during playtime.

Haven't I?

As upset as I am with Riggs, I still can't fathom having to move somewhere else and not have access to him. No matter how much time passed, I still thought about him over the years. He never just faded away. I doubt after everything that's gone on the last few days he would now.

By the time he pulls through his Malibu gate, I'm more confused than ever. He reverses into the driveway, turns off the car, and pushes the button. The wood closes, and neither of us moves.

He finally turns and states, "There are ten days left. But I don't think anything I do with you will matter."

Panic fills me. "What do you mean?"

"You want to believe what you want to believe, pet. And that's on you, not me." He gets out and shuts his door. He walks around and opens my door but doesn't reach in for me.

I get out, and he motions for me to go inside. My gut says not to fight him. I obey, and he goes into the bedroom.