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Sold for $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers  Novel Cover

Sold for $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers

Three women find their fates bound to the powerful Hawthorne brothers after being sold for a single dollar. Alina enters Adrian’s ruthless world, struggling to distinguish protection from possession. Viviane remains wary of Julian, a man who collects souls rather than saving them. Meanwhile, the guarded Lena faces Lucien, a man who refuses to play fair. As pasts collide and secrets emerge, these women must decide to stay, fight, or burn everything down.
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Chapter 15

"Was that all it took?"

I'm still pinned underneath Adrian, and I'm not sure if I'm breathing anymore. He's so close that every inhale feels like taking in a lungful of him. His eyes twinkle as he clicks his tongue. "Perhaps I should've tried this a long time ago. It would've saved me the trouble of having to deal with your sass."

"Sass?" I wheeze. "I've done everything you've asked me to do. I allowed your bodyguards to chaperone; I have to sleep close to the wall so I don't...touch you. I don't think I'm being mouthy, Mr. Hawthorne."

His fingers brush against my wrist as he moves, and slow heat trickles down my spine. "The phone," he reminds me. The bed dips, and I instinctively adjust, moving my leg.

Wrong move. My dress has ridden high. The fabric of his pants grazes my bare skin. I swallowed hard as my nerves hum and my skin tingles. My lashes flutter nonstop as my chest inflates like a helium-pumped balloon.

"It was supposed to be a communicating device," he murmurs, "not a freebie. The boy you gave it to sold it for a fraction of its worth."

"I told him he could-"

I stop, my head cocking sideways. "How did you know about that?" His henchmen were outside the building, and Julian hadn't shown up then.

His mouth curves slowly. "I know everything, Alina."

"Then you know I don't appreciate being sprung on without prior notice. I already got sold once, against my wish," I retort, the words rushing out before I can stop them.

"Your father had a debt to pay, Alina. And he paid it with you," he tells me. "You should be mad at me, not him."

I am.

Mad at my stepfather. At myself. At Adrian Hawthorne, with his smug face. I shimmy up the bed, propping my upper body on my elbows as I stare at him, unblinking. "You bought me. You could've forced him to work for you...had him sign an agreement. Yet, I was the one you wanted. Someone who wouldn't complain, who you could control."

"Is that what you think I wanted?" His voice drops into a low timbre as his gaze darkens. "A slave? A servant?" His thumb glides over my chin as a low, humorless chuckle slips out. "The dress on you has my price tag, Alina Wilson. My brother sent me the bill as soon as you were done shopping."

"I watched you when you walked into the party-until you ended up at the bar. Your yellow dress the center of attention. You were the wet dream of every single man there tonight and for the life of me-" he grits his teeth, dragging a hand through his hair, "-I couldn't stop my thoughts from straying."

Adrian rakes a hand over his face as he pushes away from me, cursing under his breath. I remain on the bed, my thoughts scrambled. His thoughts...was he thinking about me?

"It's impossible for you to be my slave, Alina," he rasps, sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn't look at me. "Because you have a way of getting under my skin. I should be able to dismiss a servant, ignore them. Hell," he chuckles mirthlessly, "forget that they even exist."

"With you?" he glances over his shoulder. His eyes land on mine with a stormy expression that burns through me. "I plan everything. I had to bribe my brother to watch over you. Why would I care if you mean so little?"

I can feel my heart thumping, slamming my ribcage as something alive, slick, unwelcome, coils inside me. "I don't know," I say hoarsely. "You said my father owed a debt, and he sold me for it. Maybe I'm worth more than a dollar to you. You told me I was your business."

That's all I am. The truth hits me like a bucket of ice dumped over my head.

He's the kind of man who doesn't let go of what belongs to him. He doesn't like me. He's not attracted to me-I'm an object. Property. A tool.

My chest aches as I climb off the bed, crossing my arms to hide my wardrobe malfunction. "You don't see people, Adrian. You see things to own. I-" I shake my head as my voice breaks, "-am something you own. That's why you can't ignore me."

"I-"

The ache sinks deeper, squeezing my chest until it feels like I'm going to pass out. "I should go," I mutter. "I don't think you want to sleep in the same bed with me after I've had too much to drink. I get touchy," I smile thinly. "Goodnight, Adrian."

I turn, begging my shoulders not to fall, for the tears that I've cried one too many times tonight to give me a break. At least until I'm alone.

I don't hear his footsteps as they pound behind me.

Adrian grabs my wrist, spinning me around. His mouth crashes on mine, swallowing my gasp as he crushes me to his chest. My hands hang helplessly as my thoughts blank out completely. A surge floods through my chest, down my spine, curling deep in my stomach.

My fingers twitch, like my body is trying to grab onto something, but it's too much-too sudden. The heat in his body, rushing into mine...his smell, clouding my senses, drugging me.

He pulls as quickly as he kissed me, panting softly. "Does this look like I don't see you?"  he rasps thickly. "Tell me, Alina. Tell me you have no idea what's going through my head."

"I-"

He cups my chin a little roughly before I can respond, his other hand resting on my back. His teeth nip my lower lip, and I feel a pulse throb between my thighs in response. "He should've gotten you black," Adrian whispers against my mouth as his tongue slides between my parted lips. I whimper as my back arches into his touch, silently begging for more. I can taste the whiskey he drank on his breath, and it pulls me under, like a crashing wave. "Something ugly."

His hand slips down my ass, cupping it.

My knees buckle as his lips roam down my neck, kissing my skin, biting me gently. A broken whimper slips out as I reach for his shirt, sinking my fingers in...needing something to hold on to.

"I'm glad the dress is ruined," he says as he raises his head, smirking at me. "Because now I can take it off myself without feeling guilty."

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