Sold By The Man I Loved

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On the night of my eighteenth birthday gala, I was drugged. In a haze of heat and confusion, I pulled my bodyguard of eight years, Carl Vaughn, into my bed.

I had never seen him as just a bodyguard. We knew each others souls. I was only waiting to become a legal adult so I could finally confess our love to my parents.

But the next morning, the number one trending topic on the internet was a six-hour, unedited, high-definition video of us in that bed.

I thought a corporate rival had framed us. That was, until I overheard him on the phone with a friend:

My sister went to work for their family, and they drove her to her death. Eight years shes been missing. I just recorded a little video. Honestly, I think I went too easy on them.

There were no corporate rivals. It was all him. It was all revenge.

My father, blindingly furious, lunged to strike him. Carl simply kicked him away. My father hit his head against the marble floor and slipped into a permanent coma.

The Astor family empire collapsed, buried under tens of millions in debt.

My mother worked herself to the bone, juggling jobs until she collapsed and died of exhaustion on a rainy night.

To pay for my fathers life support, I sold myself to an underground syndicate compound in Central America.

Two years later, I connected with Carl on a video call.

He recognized my voice instantly. A cruel scoff filtered through the speaker.

Well, look at the little Astor heiress, running scams now?

I can give you your sales quota, he purred. Lets see if you can swallow it. Now, take your clothes off.

Take them off. What, are you feeling shy now?

The video feed snapped into focus.

Carls devastatingly familiar face filled the screen, twisted into a mocking sneer.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, using the metallic taste of blood to force the suffocating ache back down into my chest. When I lifted my eyes again, the mask was perfectly in place. I offered him a practiced, sultry smile.

Where would the boss like me to start?

I hooked a finger under my strap, sliding it agonizingly slow down my shoulder. Then, I stood up, angling myself toward the webcam, and began to pull the hem of my silk dress upward.

Pale thighs and the curve of my chest were practically spilling into the frame.

Just as my fingers moved to drag the neckline lower

Enough!

The vein at Carls temple throbbed. His voice cracked like a whip.

Bonnie Astor, is this how you usually close your deals? Stripping for men online?

Do you have a single shred of human dignity left in you? You make me sick.

His words were jagged glass, twisting directly into my heart. My eyes burned with a sudden, acidic sting.

When youre starving and fighting just to draw your next breath... what the hell is dignity?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I leaned closer to the lens, letting my voice drop to a husky whisper.

Is the boss not satisfied? Or were you hoping for something a little more... hardcore

The screen went black. He hung up.

A second later, my phone pinged. A wire transfer notification. Fifty thousand dollars.

Attached was a single message: Even talking to you makes me feel dirty.

The last thread of adrenaline snapped. I collapsed onto the concrete floor, the cold seeping into my bones.

Three years ago, this was the man who knelt beside my legs, looking up at me like I was the only star in his sky.

You are the brightest, most untouchable thing Ive ever seen, he had whispered, his hands trembling as he held mine. Please dont ever leave me behind. Okay?

But in the end, the hands that pushed me into the dirt, the voice that called me filthy... belonged to him.

I took a shaky breath, pulling myself up to hand the transfer confirmation to the floor supervisor.

This fifty grand was my quota for the day. It bought me a twenty-four-hour reprieve from the cattle prods and the beatings. More importantly, it covered another month of my fathers life support.

The supervisors face split into a greasy grin. He shoved me toward the locker room.

Weve got VIPs hitting the casino floor tonight. Youve been hitting your numbers lately, so Im giving you a shot at the high-roller table. He grabbed my chin, his grip bruising. Dont screw this up, Bonnie. Or your old mans plug gets pulled.

I nodded frantically.

I remembered the day the debt collectors breached the nursing home back in the States. They had nearly beaten me to death right there in the sterile hallway. They had their hands on my fathers oxygen tube.

It was this supervisor who had stopped them.

Come work for us, he had offered. What you earn pays off the debt, and keeps the machine breathing for your daddy.

I said yes.

I would do anything to survive.

In the locker room, I expertly applied heavy concealer over the fresh, angry welts and the burn marks from the stun guns.

When I stepped onto the plush carpet of the VIP room, my breath caught. Carl was sitting dead center at the baccarat table.

He was in a bespoke charcoal suit, radiating an untouchable, arrogant wealth that was even more suffocating in person than on a screen.

Gentlemen, this is our dealer for the evening, Bonnie. The supervisor bowed obsequiously.

The men at the table looked me up and down, their eyes leaving a trail of slime over my skin. Someone let out a low whistle.

Goddamn. Shes a live wire.

With a dealer looking like that, I dont even care if I lose.

Their leering gazes stuck to me like venom.

I forced my lips into a breathtaking curve, slipping smoothly into the empty chair beside them. Beneath the table, I let my knee brush lightly against the leg of the man to my right.

With me here, I promise the bosses will only have a winning streak, I purred.

The man practically melted. He pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills and shoved them directly into the cleavage of my uniform.

I giggled, thanking him sweetly as I tucked the cash deeper against my skin.

Carl let out a dark, hollow laugh.

When I looked up, his eyes were burning with a terrifying, destructive fire.

Has this dealer been washed? he demanded, his voice dropping the temperature in the room.

The supervisor froze. Uh... well, of course, Mr. Vaughn. All our girls are impeccably clean.

Carl stood up slowly, towering over the table, his gaze pinning me to my seat.

Tell us, Bonnie. Are you clean?

The other men exchanged bewildered looks, unsure why the billionaire was suddenly turning the room into an interrogation chamber.

His relentless, suffocating pressure made my chest physically ache.

When I didnt answer, a cruel smirk twisted his lips.

Actually, I heard the little Astor heiress was starring in amateur porn before she was even legally allowed to drink. Carl leaned forward, bracing his hands on the velvet table. Six hours. High-def. Uncensored. Seems she likes to play rough.

Recognition dawned on one of the other men.

Holy shit, no wonder she looked familiar! Thats the Astor girl. The one whose sex tape leaked at her debutante ball and sent her parents to an early grave.

The man turned to the supervisor, his eyes turning predatory. Hey, if shes that kind of trash, shes not just here to deal cards, right? How about...

The implication hung heavy and vile in the air.

Under the table, Carls polished leather shoe hooked the hem of my skirt, dragging it up an inch.

Since youre already this filthy, Carl whispered, his voice dripping with venom, why are you still wearing clothes? Didnt you hear what the bosses want? Do your job, sweetheart.

The way Carl looked at me... it was as if he were scraping dog shit off his shoe.

But he wasn't always like this.

I was ten years old when eighteen-year-old Carl Vaughn first stepped in front of me.

He had dropped to one knee, looking at me with absolute reverence.

Miss Astor, from today onward, your safety is my life. As long as I am breathing, no one in this world will ever harm a hair on your head.

For the next eight years, he was a man of his word.

He absorbed the blows of the world so I wouldn't have to. Every time I stumbled, his strong arms were there, catching me before I ever hit the ground.

Careful, Bonnie.

He was always my shadow, indulging my every reckless whim with a quiet, devastating fondness.

When I wanted to climb the ancient oak tree on the estate, he laced his hands together and offered his shoulders as my stepping stone.

When I wanted to watch the Fourth of July fireworks over the bay, he smuggled me out past the security gates at midnight, hoisting me onto his shoulders so I had the best view in the world.

Whenever I cheered in delight, a rare, beautiful smile would break across his face.

Lets keep this our little secret from your father, okay?

Even the time an unhinged rival tried to kidnap me, Carl literally tore through them. Bleeding, battered, he carried me out of that warehouse without letting a single drop of my blood spill.

I had cried, reaching out with my small, trembling hands to wipe the blood from his cheek.

But Carl caught my wrists. His grip was fiercely protective, yet painfully restrained.

Ill get you dirty. Dont touch me.

My heart had seized in my chest. It pounded like a war drum.

I had grabbed him by the lapels of his ruined suit and kissed him.

Youre not dirty. Youre never dirty to me...

Tears mixed with the copper taste of his blood.

That was my eighteenth-year awakening.

The name Carl Vaughn had been the absolute center of my entire adolescence.

Strip. What are you waiting for?

Carls voice snapped me back to the nightmare.

You want money?

He grabbed a handful of heavy casino chips and hurled them violently into my face.

Clack.

The sharp plastic hit my cheekbone like a slap.

Is that enough? he sneered.

I blinked, forcing myself back into my shell. I stretched my lips into a sickeningly sweet smile.

More than enough. Thank you so much, Mr. Vaughn~

I promise to take very, very good care of you gentlemen tonight.

I dropped to my knees, crawling over the carpet to gather the scattered chips, deliberately tucking them into the lace tops of my thigh-high stockings.

Then, I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The heavy air-conditioning of the casino hit my bare skin, making my teeth chatter, though whether from the cold or the terror, I couldnt tell.

I didnt dare look into his eyes.

I couldnt bear to confirm the absolute disgust I knew was swimming in them.

Ooh, the little rich girl wears some naughty lingerie, one of the men laughed, his eyes roaming over me like a starving wolf.

They looked to Carl. Hey, Mr. Vaughn, if you arent interested in partaking...

Carl took a slow sip of his bourbon. A violent storm was brewing in his dark eyes, but his voice was terrifyingly flat.

Do whatever you want. I have no interest in riding the town bicycle.

The town bicycle.

I forced a laugh, my fingernails biting so hard into my palms they drew blood. I was suffocating on my own tears.

The humiliation was a physical weight crushing my throat, but I kept the smile plastered on my face.

Well, practice makes perfect, right? I know all the tricks...

The game resumed.

As the men drew their cards, their hands constantly wandered beneath the table. My stockings were torn. The fabric of my corset was pulled and stretched until the seams popped.

Carl sat at the head of the table the entire night. He didnt say a single word.

By the time the game ended, my skin was mottled with purple bruises, pinch marks, and bites.

I swallowed the agony, kneeling on the floor to gather the crumpled bills and fallen chips.

You are truly pathetic, Bonnie.

Carl watched me, a humorless, tight smile on his face. Do you really love money this much?

I didnt hesitate. I nodded.

Money was oxygen for my father.

Money could buy a headstone for my mother.

Fine.

He ground the word out through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing red. Since you love money so damn much, Im going to give you the ultimate opportunity to make it.

Carl paid off my remaining debt to the syndicate.

He dragged me out of the compound and flew us to an elite resort on the coast of Belize.

When he burst into my hotel room, I hadnt even finished changing.

His eyes locked onto the angry red and purple marks littering my body. His brow furrowed deeply.

How did you get these?

Before I could formulate a lie, his gaze dropped to the open suitcase on the bed, spilling over with cheap, scandalous lingerie. He let out a dark, cynical laugh.

Right. In your line of work, I guess I shouldnt be surprised by a few battle scars.

It felt as though someone was systematically driving long needles into my chest. The pain was quiet, but infinite.

I didnt argue. Instead, I walked over to him, lightly draping my arms around his neck.

And what about you? Sneaking into my room at this hour... are you looking for

I leaned in to whisper against his ear, but before I could finish, he shoved me backward.

The veins in his neck popped. A dark flush spread from his collar to his jawwhether from rage or something else, I couldn't tell.

Dont touch me. Youre filthy.

Even though I had spent years getting used to this version of him, the words still made my heart bleed.

Be in the lobby in thirty minutes.

Five clients. As long as you keep them happy, theyre paying three million a head.

With that, he threw his suit jacket at me and walked out without looking back.

Five men. Fifteen million dollars.

That was more than enough to clear the lingering debts back home.

I could finally go back to my father.

A few minutes later, a hotel attendant knocked, handing me a small tube of scar-fading ointment.

Mr. Vaughn sent this.

I stared at the half-used tube of ointment, my mind going entirely blank.

Back in the day, Carl wasnt just my shadow. My father often sent him on dangerous acquisition and security missions.

He frequently returned bruised, battered, and bleeding.

He had a jagged knife scar running from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

I had spent an exorbitant amount of my allowance at a private auction to buy a medically advanced scar-fading serum. But when I gave it to him, he just smiled gently.

Miss Astor, you shouldnt waste this kind of money on a servant like me.

I had refused to listen. I clamped one hand over his mouth and stubbornly applied the ointment to his chest with the other.

The tube the attendant just handed me... was the exact same tube from years ago.

Why did he still have it?

Before I could unravel the knot in my stomach, the thirty minutes were up.

When I stepped into the dim, velvet-draped lobby, several men wearing Venetian masks turned to stare at me with hungry eyes.

Carl, my man, thanks for taking care of our wives tonight.

Your little girlfriend looks like a wildcat. First time at a swingers club, huh?

Carl was leaning back on a leather sofa, two half-naked women draped over him.

He smirked over the rim of his glass.

Who knows how many times shes done this.

A bomb went off in my skull. The ringing was deafening.

I thought he wanted me to pour drinks. Or deal cards.

I never, in my darkest nightmares, imagined he brought me here to trade me at an underground swingers club.

The sheer humiliation and betrayal crashed over me like a tidal wave. It was the middle of summer in the tropics, but I was shivering violently.

He looked up at me lazily.

What? Are you backing out?

He raised three fingers.

Three million.

That money was the only rope that could pull me out of the abyss Id been drowning in for years.

I bit my tongue until I tasted copper, forcing my trembling limbs into submission.

Why would I back out? Its my absolute honor to serve these gentlemen.

Carls face instantly darkened into a thunderous scowl.

He sat there, perfectly still, watching me pour their drinks.

Watching me feed them fruit from the platter.

Suddenly, one of the masked men yanked me up by my arm.

I cant wait anymore. Im taking her up to the room!

He scooped me up over his shoulder and marched toward the elevators.

Instinct took over, and I thrashed against him.

Smack.

He backhanded me across the face so hard my vision blurred.

Shut the fuck up. Vaughn literally handed you over, why are you playing the virgin?

My ears were screaming. I opened my mouth, silently mouthing Carls name.

But from the moment I was carried away, Carl never once looked in my direction.

The heavy oak door slammed shut. I was thrown violently onto the mattress.

The stench of the mans cologne and sweat made my stomach heave.

Carl always smelled like crisp cedarwood and snow.

Whenever he came back from a mission, he brought me something.

Sometimes it was a necklace he bought with his entire months salary. Sometimes it was just a perfectly preserved autumn leaf he found on the road.

But now, I had nothing.

Riiiiiiip.

The sound of my dress tearing filled the quiet room.

Pure, unadulterated terror seized my throat. I clenched my fists around the tiny tube of scar ointment and squeezed my eyes shut.

Just endure it. Endure it, and it will be over.

As long as Dad gets his medicine. As long as he lives.

Nothing else matters.

Down in the lobby.

Carl downed glass after glass of amber liquor.

But the burning in his throat did nothing to quell the vicious, clawing anxiety tearing at his chest.

Whats wrong, Carl? Getting possessive over your little toy?

One of the women traced a manicured finger down his chest. He shoved her off with brutal force.

Possessive? Over her? You could hand her to me on a silver platter and Id still throw up.

But the moment he heard Bonnies muffled, agonizing scream echo down the hallway...

His knuckles turned bone-white around his glass.

He told himself this was justice.

This was payback for what the Astors did to his sister. To his family.

He was right.

But he realized, with a sickening drop in his stomach, that he simply could not endure the sound of Bonnie breaking.

He surged to his feet, storming out to the hotel terrace to light a cigarette.

The lighter had barely flared when a voice cut through the humid night air.

Carl?!

He froze. When he turned around and saw the face of Michelle Vaughn standing under the patio lights, his entire universe short-circuited.

Maddie...

Michelles eyes were red. She offered him a trembling smile.

It really is you... God, look how much youve grown, Carl.

Carl, back then... it was such an emergency. I had to flee the country with my husband. We didnt even have time to contact you, Im so sorry.

But weve been living a good life overseas! Look, this is my son, Sammy.

She gently pushed a twelve-year-old boy forward.

Sammy, say hi to your Uncle Carl.

The boy politely mumbled a greeting.

Carl stood there, paralyzed, the cigarette dropping from his numb fingers.

Wait. So... all these years. Youve been perfectly fine?

Michelle looked confused. Of course? Why wouldnt I be?

Her casual, innocent confusion drove a spike directly into his brain.

Then what the hell was my revenge for?

The leaked tape. The ruin.

The absolute hell I dragged Bonnie into... what was it all for?!

The color drained entirely from Carls face, leaving him looking like a corpse.

Like a madman, he shoved past them, sprinting back into the hotel, tearing down the hallway until he reached the heavy oak door. He raised his leg and kicked the door right off its hinges.

Bonnie!