Given: Highest Bidder Read online

  Given

  Highest Bidder

  Lauren Landish

  Willow Winters

  Photography by

  Eric Battershell

  Illustrated by

  Coverluv

  Contents

  Given: Highest Bidder

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Good Girl: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Begging for Bad Boys

  Bought: Highest Bidder

  Sold: Highest Bidder Book 2

  Owned: Highest Bidder Book 3

  About the Authors

  Copyright © 2017 by Lauren Landish & Willow Winters.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2017 by Coverluv.

  Photography by: Eric Battershell

  Cover Model: Ryan Harmon.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Created with Vellum

  Given: Highest Bidder

  by Lauren Landish & Willow Winters

  I knew she'd ruin me. But I wanted her anyway.

  I was born into wealth and my name comes with a reputation.

  One I’ve upheld and leveraged for power.

  Now everyone owes me and I plan to keep it that way.

  Until she’s offered to me. My sweetheart. Only for a single month to repay a debt.

  Her tempting curves call to me and beg me to risk it all.

  I shouldn’t take her, I shouldn’t even consider his offer.

  Women like her bring men to their knees.

  But there’s something in her baby blues. They’re haunted by what lies behind them.

  She sees through me, leaving me nowhere to hide.

  I knew taking her would destroy me, but it only took one taste.

  Now I’m addicted. And I'm not giving her back.

  Prologue

  Zander

  Both of my hands tremble and the adrenaline pumping in my blood makes my muscles coil, ready to fight. I grip the edge of the dresser to keep my body upright. I only need to breathe. A long and slow exhale leaves me, lowering my tense shoulders. I crack my neck before looking over my shoulder at her. My sweetheart.

  I’ve never run from anything in my life. And I’m not about to start now.

  But I should have run from her. I knew I should have walked away when I first laid eyes on her.

  She’s destroyed my control. Ruined my reputation. She’ll be the end of me, I know it.

  Her soft moans of pain from across the bedroom call to me. She’s so beautifully broken. She needs me.

  I took it too far, and I can’t take it back.

  They’ll come for me; I’m certain the cops will be here soon. I’m guilty, and I have no one to blame. The evidence is all right here, and I can’t deny a damn thing.

  For the first time in my life, I don’t see a way out.

  There’s no one I can turn to. No one who owes me who can make this right.

  But I can’t stop wanting her. She’s gotten under my skin. And I won’t stop fighting for her.

  Never.

  “Zander,” she says and her small voice is choked. Her brow is pinched as her head thrashes from side to side and the doctor works on the deep lashes on her back. Agony rises through my chest; it stiffens my body. My eyes burn and my throat closes as I try to breathe.

  She’s stripped to the waist lying face down on the bed, her bottom half barely covered by a thin white sheet to keep the doctor’s prying eyes from seeing even more of her.

  I know what he thinks. What they all think since I took her.

  I don’t give a fuck. I pay him well to turn a blind eye, and that’s exactly what he’ll do. It’s what they all do. They only want the money, and they’ll do anything for it.

  But not her.

  My heavy footsteps are softened by the plush rug as I cross the master bedroom and walk to her. She lifts her head as I come closer, but the moment she does, she winces and sucks in a reluctant breath through clenched teeth.

  I’m quick to gentle my hand on her shoulder, keeping my contact confined to the small area of soft skin without any wounds. “Don’t move,” I say and my voice is low, admonishing even. I hate myself. I’m so devoid of the ability to comfort that I can’t even speak softly to her when she’s… like this.

  “I’m sorry,” Arianna says quietly, her voice muffled from the mattress.

  A chill runs over every inch of my skin. She has no reason to apologize to me. She never did anything wrong. Not since the first moment this started.

  I swallow thickly, and the lump forming in my throat feels as though it scratches the tender skin on the way down. “It’s alright.” I try to soften my voice and put as much warmth into it as possible. I pet her hair with soothing strokes.

  “I never should have left you,” Arianna replies, her words coming out slow and full of genuine remorse.

  She shouldn’t have. This wouldn’t have happened if she’d just listened. If she’d trusted me.

  But it’s my fault. Not hers.

  “It’s going to be alright,” I say softly, crouching down so my eyes are level with hers. It’s a lie. It’s not going to be alright. I’m damn sure of that single truth. Everything is fucked.

  But I’ll tell her whatever she needs to hear.

  I can’t lose her.

  I press my lips to hers, my hand cupping her jaw and m
y thumb rubbing comforting circles on her soft skin.

  “Is it going to be okay?” she whispers against my lips. It’s only when I open my eyes and see hers are still closed with tears running freely down her reddened cheeks that my heart shatters.

  I wish I could tell her I’ll take care of everything.

  But it’s not okay. And I can’t fix this.

  I know I shouldn’t, but lying comes so easily to me. “Everything’s going to be fine,” I tell her. Her long lashes flutter and her gorgeous green eyes open to look back at me. So much raw vulnerability and something else are clearly evident in her gaze. Something that should push me away.

  I didn’t even want to take her when she was given to me at first. I should have refused.

  Maybe even then I recognized what she would do to me. How she would change who I am, and destroy everything I’ve worked for. When they put me behind bars, they’ll figure out everything. The corruption, the money, all the lies.

  Even knowing that, I wouldn’t hesitate to take her if I had the chance to do it all over again. My hand clenches into a fist, firming my resolve. Even if I couldn’t change a damn thing, I’d still accept that sick fuck’s offer.

  She was given to me.

  Now she’s mine.

  Chapter 1

  Zander

  I clasp my hands behind my back, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window in my office. It’s on the top floor of Penn Square, one of the three tallest skyscrapers in the city. My fingers run along the cold metal of my Tag Heuer watch as I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. My shoulders are squared and the rush of the city flows easily through my blood.

  This is where I thrive, where I make the deals that run this city.

  “Are you listening to me?” my father’s voice spills from the speaker on my desk, and the corners of my lips turn up into a smirk.

  “I am.” I answer easily with an air of confidence I learned from him.

  “You never should have accepted.” His words are sharp and firm. But he’s right.

  A heavy sigh leaves me as my eyes narrow at the park directly beneath the building. Although my blood chills at my father’s words, I ignore him, cracking my knuckles and continuing to watch the specks of people moving about.

  I’m the one that kept our family name from falling. We were going bankrupt because of his bad investments and trusting the wrong people. My teeth grind as I clench my jaw. Yes, I fucked up, but not nearly as much as he has. It's been almost ten fucking years of me rising to the top and carrying our legacy with me, creating not just a pristine reputation in the eyes of the community and business elites. I've also worked hard to create one of fear for those who run the underside of this city.

  There are many men with power, but they all owe someone… and I happen to be that someone. My father’s voice drones on as I move my gaze toward the streets. My father’s still admonishing me for a single mistake.

  A bad investment named Daniel Brooks.

  That dumb fuck owes me a lot of money, more money than he should.

  He knew how much debt he had, and he still gambled away my money. He thinks I don’t know… I know everything. I was the first to know when the sum left his account and wasn’t directly passed to mine.

  This happens from time to time. Everyone owes me, and that’s how I like it. It’s only a matter of time before something gets between me and the money they owe me.

  I don’t care; I always come out on top, and that’s what matters. Money isn’t power, it’s leverage. Being owed is power. True power. And that’s what I want. It's what I have. But right now Brooks isn’t an asset, and I have no way of knowing just how he’s going to pay me close to the half a million I’m due. It’s not the largest sum, but it’s a deal that was public. A debt that many are aware of, and therefore, must be paid.

  “Did you hear me?” My father’s voice is low as I turn from the city to face my hard maple desk, my eyes focused and narrowed on the black corded phone that came with this office. It’s at odds with the modern touches, but the line is traceable and I’ve been able to use that to my advantage more than a time or two.

  “I did,” I answer although I’d rather hang up the phone altogether. I don't wait for him to reply.

  “Brooks owes me more than what’s excusable. More than he’s worth.” I take my seat, leaning back and propping up my feet on the long, sleek desk.

  “You can’t allow him to get away with it.” My father speaks with authority.

  Brooks may be a high-up executive and think he’s untouchable, but the alcoholic, gambling degenerate is going to give me my money one way or the other. And then I’m done with him. I have enough pull to bury him if I want. I tap my fingers on the hard wood top, debating. The rap, rap, rap echoes rhythmically and calms me slightly.

  I could destroy him slowly. Cripple him financially and embarrass him in every way possible. But not many would know why, and he’s too pathetic to waste that much time and effort on. No, I’ll just take my money and be through with him. He’ll hang himself on his own.

  My eyes lift to the office door as a solid knock rebounds through the large space.

  “Come in,” I call out as my back settles against the leather desk chair, but my fingers never stop tapping on the desk as I wait for the door to open.

  Charles walks in with a mask of indifference. I’m used to it. When I first met him all those years ago at boarding school, I thought there was something more behind his dark eyes. But now I know the truth; the only emotion I’ve ever seen reflected in his eyes is anger. It's that, or nothing. And I prefer nothing to his temper.

  With short pitch-black hair and eyes to match, Charles is just as lethal as he looks. He didn’t grow up with the lifestyle I’m accustomed to, but I made sure to make friends with him. It’s been mutually beneficial.

  I nod toward the phone before he has a chance to speak. Sharing a glance, he quietly shuts the door behind him, a soft click the only sound in my office.

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” I lean forward, speaking into the phone and preparing to hang up, knowing damn well that I won’t return the phone call. There’s nothing to discuss. He’ll see me at the next social event and until then, the only thing he’ll give me is shit over this debt.

  Charles is silent as he takes a seat across from me. Placing an elbow on the arm of the chair, he stares back at me with his finger resting on his bottom lip.

  Large black and white photos of the nighttime skyline decorate the wall behind him. The furnishings in my office are entirely black and white, with the walls painted a light grey. To an observer, my office may seem as if it’s a minimalist and masculine design. And that’s true, but more importantly, it suits me. Cold and simple. No room for bullshit.

  I didn’t even want the fucking blown-up photos, but I needed something to make the room seem… normal. Complete, even.

  “We have a problem,” Charles finally says after I've hung up the phone.

  I may be deceptive. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I come off as playful and charming. They don’t see me coming. And most of my clients never have a problem with me. The legal ones, anyway. It’s a handshake and a smile, an exchange of money and profit. Those are ninety percent of my interactions. But the other ten percent, well that’s where Charles comes in. I can’t get my hands dirty. My reputation is everything.

  He doesn’t attend the social galas and business openings. He doesn’t give a fuck about rubbing elbows and being seen with the right people. He meets his clients in back alleys. As far as anyone’s concerned, he’s an associate.

  Everyone in my life is just an associate. And that’s never going to change.

  “And what’s that?” I ask him as my lips kick up into a charming smile. It’s always there. Even though it doesn’t affect Charles, I can’t help the false expression. I’ve learned to play this role. It pays me well.

  “Brooks is a problem,” he states and leans forward in his seat, grabbing a
paperweight off my desk. It’s a small slate cube, heavy with sharp edges. He runs his finger down one side.

  Although he’s not a threat to me, I can only imagine what he’d do with a weapon like that. I roll my eyes at what he just said and stretch my neck to look out of the large windows again as the sun sets behind us, darkening the room. I can’t take another person telling me I’ve fucked up. I get it. I need someone to offer me a solution to fix it, not tell me the obvious.

  “No shit,” I say, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. It only takes a moment, and his movements stop.

  “Are we offing him?” he asks me.

  My blood turns cold, sending a biting wave through every inch of my body. It takes its time, slowly coursing through my veins. I don’t take death lightly. Ending someone's life isn't as easy for me as it is for Charles. He grew up around it, made a career of it; killing is simply a way of life for him. They all have it coming and for good reason, but he’s quick to take it that far.

  I break the hold his dark eyes have on mine and stare at the large clock on the left-hand wall. It’s simple and modern, so there aren’t any marks on it. It's just a large white circle with contrasting black hands. The second hand sweeps by, rhythmically and perfectly. There’s no sound, but I can only imagine the soft tick, tick, tick in sync with my own heartbeat.

  I click my tongue, feeling the smile fade for a moment before turning my attention back to Charles.

  “Who did he give it to?” I ask him. Brooks had the money in his account. I know for a fact what Danny Brooks was worth when I loaned him the investment. It should have been a good return, had he done what he was supposed to do.

  “A bookie,” Charles answers in a rough deep voice, setting the slate paperweight back down at my desk.

  A huff of a humorless laugh rumbles up my chest.