Sold for $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers

The wedding incident? 

I stare at Adrian as my thoughts race, partially distracted by how close he's standing and how good he smells. 

So good-there's a hint of-

Wait.  My brain comes to a grinding halt. My jaw slacks. 

"You're not talking about..."

He nods. "Yes."

I shake my head and the laughter that leaves my lips is doubting. "Nah. It's impossible for you to know about that. It was years ago. I was a freshman. There's no way..." I trail off, when it dawns on me that he's serious. 

"How?" I question, still baffled. My head is spinning with theories. Has he been stalking me? That's impossible. Adrian Hawthorne couldn't care less about my less-than-average life. 

Even when my father happened to lose the company to Hawthorne Industries, we never crossed paths. 

I only showed on his radar at the auction.  

Funny enough...I bite my bottom lip hard, tilting my head as my train of thought derails. I never thought to ask him what he was doing there. Was he expecting to buy someone else?  

Hell, I wasn't paying attention to what was being auctioned while I stood in the dark, hidden from the main stage. 

I was thinking about how gullible I'd been to believe my stepfather that things were about to change-that he was finally putting in effort to get sober and pick up his duties as a father. And the only family I had left. 

My brows squint as I search Adrian's face for answers. "How would you know about something that happened years ago?"

His brow arches, ever so lightly. He takes a step closer and I instinctively suck in a breath, holding it somewhere between my throat and my lungs. 

He brings his lips close to my ear. "What did you think...I was going to bring you into my home without doing due diligence?" His voice rumbles through my ear, carrying a hint of mockery I don't miss. "I don't trust anyone, Miss Wilson."

Adrian pulls away, his gaze pinned on my face. "Much like someone who comes from a greedy, dishonest family."

Greedy? 

Greedy??? 

"I-"

I start to argue, but he's already stepping to the side, speaking to the bartender. "She'll have a mocktail. Keep the alcohol away for the rest of the evening." 

"Yes, sir."

I whirl around, a scoff slipping out at the bartender's response. "You're going to listen to me over him? You think a man should control what a woman drinks?" I thrust my hands on my hips and his gaze slides down to my cleavage for a split second.  

Typical. 

"I'm going to get something strong," I insist. "That's what I want. Unless you're willing to admit that you're sexist."

The bartender's face turns red as he glances away, scratching his head awkwardly.  "I-I'm sorry, miss," he mutters, "but Mr. Hawthorne is the host of the party. He hired me. I'm afraid I have to do as he asks."

Wait. 

What?  

I glance at Adrian-at his expressionless face and those impossibly arrogant eyes. And then it clicks. Julian had mentioned that he had bars and clubs, so it was easy for the host to ask for his services."

I'd assumed it was someone in his social circles. Another wealthy New York socialite who wanted to impress. 

But I should've known. 

After all, Adrian didn't want me here. He had every right to refuse, since it was his party.

I roll my eyes, planting my hands higher. "Right," I drawl dryly. "I see. You know what?" I shake my head. "I'm suddenly no longer in the mood for a drink. I think-" I raise a finger, "-I'm going to find a handsome stranger to talk to and maybe dance with him, if possible."

"Then if he offers me a drink, I'm going to say yes." My chin jutted out defiantly as my eyes narrow, my gaze moving from Adrian to the bartender and back. "And if he asks me to leave the party with him, I won't turn him down, because the host doesn't want me here in the first place."

He says nothing. 

I expected it. 

I blow out an exasperated breath as I turn, ready to go mingle by all means. Julian said to have fun and not let his brother ruin my night. I plan to do exactly that. 

I've gone three steps, maybe four, when I feel strong fingers clamp around my wrist. Adrian pulls me back and I find myself pressed to his chest. 

His hard, muscled, warm chest. 

My stomach dips without warning. A shiver runs down my spine, gathering just between my thighs. I breathe a little unsteadily. 

"What do you want from me?" I hiss. "You revoked my invite to a party that I didn't know about until your brother informed me. Now you've banned me from the bar. What else?" I lift my head, staring into his eyes. "You're going to send me home? Ground me? Since you own me and I'm expected to live by your rules, walking on eggshells and saying "yes, sir," to every command?"

The last words scrape out of me, breathless and  burning.

Then silence.

Just the sound of my breathing-too loud, too uneven-and the way my chest rises against his with every inhale.

Adrian doesn't let go. He doesn't tell me to go home, like I expect. He leans in, closer. His voice drops into a rasp, brushing far too close to my ear.

"If you're going to flirt with a man in this room," he says, "then I suggest you choose wisely, Miss Wilson. Don't forget...you belong to me."