Page 32 of Temporary Vows

Skylar goes still. Then she exhales slowly, like she’s choosing her next move.

“Okay… Tell me more,” she says at last. “When is it?”

A laugh escapes me—thin, bitter, all irony. “Monday.”

Her face drains. “What?”

“Monday night,” I add, noting just how much the universe clearly hates me. “And it goes until midnight.”

Skylar’s hand flies to her mouth. “Elodie… That’s literally the deadline,” she whispers.

“I know.”

I found out the details on the club’s website. It’s called the Decadent Auction, and it’s exactly what that girl at the coffeehouse said. Everything she explained to her friend was laid out on the website in the terms and conditions. From the rules about boundaries to the expectation of how much you could make if you had no boundaries.

All sales are final and charged to the bidder’s account the moment a girl is sold. The money is then processed within a fewhours, so it would be in my bank account before I woke the next day.

Minus the part about what I have to actually do for the money, it sounds like a dream. The solution to all my problems.

I saved the link for the application form so I wouldn’t need to search for it again. There’re no strict rules to apply. Once you send the form, you’re in. The closing date is tomorrow. Or when they have enough girls. Whichever comes first. There are currently five places left out of twenty.

My throat tightens again. “I’ll call Marcus. I’m hoping if I show up on Tuesday with money—real money—it’ll soften the blow. Depending on how much I make…”

I swallow hard, trying to sound logical when nothing about this is.

“Can you imagine if I pay something like twenty grand?” I say in a wistful tone. “Marcus can’t be upset about that, can he?”

“He would be foolish if he were. But it… still doesn’t sit well with me. I mean the auction.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t sit well with me, either. But the more I think about it, the better it starts to look.

I’m scared as hell. But I’d rather choose an auction block than to keep living the life I’ve been living.

God. If I make enough, I could even quit the coffeehouse. That alone feels like reason enough. No more working all day and sometimes all night, too. No more collapsing into three-hour scraps of sleep and pretending I’m fine.

I could live something that almost resembles a normal life.

My phone buzzes next to me with a text, and I jump so hard my heart slams against my ribs.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I pick up the phone. My stomach falls away the second I read the message. It’s from Marcus.

Tick tock. Time’s almost up. Can’t hide from me.

Skylar leans over before I can angle the screen away. Her eyes flick across the words, and the color drains from her face.

“Elodie…” she whispers, like saying my name might keep whatever comes next from happening.

I swallow, but it doesn’t push down the panic clawing up my throat.

That’s it. My decision is made.

I pull the phone back to my chest, then open the saved link and find the application for the auction.

I fill it out.

Skylar doesn’t stop me.