Auctioned

Emma Watson

“Get a grip on yourself, Emma.” My mother, Eliana, spat out in annoyance as she gave me a dirty glare.

I retreated my stares from her, scanning the room as the air turned suffocating, heavy with perfume, whiskey, and all you could call that was filled with Wealth.

I tugged at the edges of my too-tight dress, a red number that she had insisted I wear. Likewise, I hated it. It felt like a costume for a role I hadn't agreed to play.

“Stand up straight,” she hissed in my ear again, her manicured nails digging into my arm and causing me nothing but pain. “And for God's sake, try not to look pathetic.”

I held in the urge to snap at her. To tell her, I am not the cause of the accident and I would never do that to my sister, but no, would she even listen? Even when it is darn obvious the accident was a mistake.

The room suddenly felt silent. A man in black suit stepped onto the stage at the front of the room, holding a microphone. With a smooth voice, he started.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining this little event. As always, discretion is appreciated.” He announced, and loud murmurs filled the air.

Discretion?

Just the word alone sent chills down my spine. I wasn't naive to the extent that I wouldn't know what that meant. I had heard rumors of places like this. …where the rich and powerful traded not just money, but in people.

But then my mother's grip on my hand jolted me back to reality as I raised my brows at her. “Smile,” She said through gritted teeth.

I didn't. I couldn't. 

What was there to fake? I was leaving my life behind. I had an interview today about my paintings, but she didn't let me go. She deprived me of my rights and made her beloved daughter stay back home, giving her attention, and she expected me to smile?

The man on stage gestured, and a series of young women were led onto the stage. Each was made like a prized possession, their eyes empty, their bodies stuff. My stomach twisted.

And then it was my turn.

“Next,” the man announced, his voice echoing in the room.

Tears from nowhere started to gather from my eyes as I shook my head.

“No,” I whispered, pulling back from the grip of my mother. “I'm not doing this.”

But she was stronger than she looked. She shoved me forward, her nails leaving bruises on my hand.

“Don't embarrass me, Emma, you fool! Your sister needs the operation that you caused.” She hissed, and I sighed, silently cursing underneath my breath.

As I went to the stage, my heels made a loud sound on the floor, making me feel uncomfortable. The lights were blinding eyes, and I could feel dozens of eyes on me, assessing and judging me. I don't know, but their eyes made me feel unwanted.

“Lot twenty-seven,” the man said, reading out my information. “Emma Watson . Twenty Three. Unmarried. Educated.”

I clenched my fist, finding it challenging to keep calm because I wanted to scream so loud for my freedom. How dare they reduce me to a list of attributes? He even reduced my age?

The bidding then started.

It was surreal, hearing the numbers climb higher and higher, as if I were nothing more than a painting or a piece of jewelry.

“Three million.”

“Four.”

“Four-point-five.”

My eyes scanned the crowd, desperate to find a face that might offer some kind of help, some kind of escape. Praying silently not to get sold to an ugly fat man with a stinking breath. 

And then, a voice cut through the room. Deep, calm, and commanding.

“Ten million.”

Murmurs filled everyone, and my legs wavered as I stepped backwards with a gasp.

The man stepped forward, and for the first time, I saw him. He took away my breath. He was talkative, impeccably dressed in a black suit that fitted him perfectly. His face is sharp, angular, like a carved stone. But his eyes- it was amusing. He wore dark glasses, hiding his eyes away from the people.

“That concludes the bidding.” The announcer said, his voice entering the whole room. “Congratulations, Mr. Maverick .”

My breath seized as the man approached the stage with confidence. Two men in black suits followed him with a stone-cold face.

“Emma,” he called, his voice wasn't cool, nor was it cold. “Come.” He instructed but I didn't make a move.

Come?

One of the men stepped forward, reaching out for my hand, but the Maverick guy raised his hand up to stop him.

“She'll come on her own,” he said, and I sighed.

His voice sounded like I had nothing to do anyway because he bought me already. It was an order and I had no right to defile it. I turned towards my mother, hoping to see her say at least something, but she only rolled her eyes at me. 

Lena's operation wasn't even up to Ten million and she still stood there?

It was all a terrible one time mistake that I regret with every minute of my life. The night party, the loud bang from the car, the explosion, it was all a nightmare dream and to think I never instigated the party yet, my mother blames me for all their predicament. How to serve?

My legs trembled, and I reluctantly stepped down from the stage.

“Good,” he murmured, almost to himself.

For the rest of the moment, I was escorted out of the building and into a black car, the tears I was holding slowly dropping in my eyes.

All of this was supposed to be a dream, but it was coming to reality.

The Maverick man sat beside me, silent and still. I sniffed, notwithstanding the pain anymore.

“Why?” I blurted out with a breaking voice. “Why did you buy me? You…you could have just left me back there, but you choose to show yourself. How heartless can you be!” I yelled, and he raised his head to my direction, a dark chuckle coming out from his lips. 

“Because I can.” 

His words hit me like a slap right hard across my face.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered.  

“Perhaps,” he said, unbothered by my words. “But I am your monster now.”  

This man! He was getting on my nerves just at our first start.

When we arrived at his mansion, I was struck by its beauty. The estate was all sharp angles and glass, placed on the cliff and overlooking the city. It was the kind of place that screamed power and authority.  

Inside the house was as cold as the man himself. I just couldn't continue to make out the beautiful things I had seen.

Was it the beautiful adorned art? Oh, my love for art.

“Follow me,” He said, his voice cutting deep into the place and I noticed his bodyguards had left us.

I trailed behind him, staring at every little thing I saw. He kept me in a room… more like a bedroom.

“There it is. This is where you'll stay,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “You'll find a dress in the wardrobe and anything else you might need in the drawer. I will go to the mall to pack some clothes tomorrow. Dinner is at seven. Don't be late.” He instructed, and I opened my mouth in disbelief as he turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called out, stopping him in his tracks. “What do you really want from me?” I asked with arms crossed.

He paused in the doorway, his back still turned to me. 

“Obedience,” he curtly said, and before I could say another word, he was gone, leaving me in my truancy.