Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I have to save myself now.
Below that is a link for an app and a passcode. It’s written in red lipstick, and I wonder if that choice was intentional, or if she’s been taking notes on her homework again. When I type it into my phone, my finger hovers over the download button as I consider what I’m doing. Moments ago, I told myself I needed to purge this infatuation with her. But the burning question in my mind won’t be ignored, and there is no justification for this insanity.
I download the app and enter the code. When the information loads, horror and rage creep into every muscle fiber of my body as I read through the description. In the back of my mind, I think this must be some sort of sick joke. Stella wouldn’t do this. But I recall the desperation on her face last night when she asked me to read her essay, and now I understand why. She was trying to tell me something. She was begging for my help, and I sent her away. This is the irrefutable proof that every choice has a consequence, even for me.
Stella is auctioning off her virtue, and the bids close in five minutes.
CHAPTER TWENTY
STELLA
AFTER GIVING Sybil a raincheck on the birthday celebrations, she decided to head home for the weekend. I felt awful for brushing her off and used the excuse that I needed to study, but she accepted it as Sybil always does. There was no way I’d be able to pull this off with her here, and I have a feeling once she comes back, everything will implode. Her father will most likely tell her what mine has done, and things will inevitably be different between us. I just hope that once it’s all said and done, she won’t cast me aside too.
My phone chimes with a message from Patrick, alerting me that the bidding for the auction has closed. He’s sent over some notes from the buyer, and I have never been more nervous in my life as I read over them.
We are meeting at the masquerade charity gala at the Grand Hotel, and I’m requested to wear a dress of my choice and the mask that will be held for me at the front desk along with a key card to the suite. In addition to that, the buyer requests that I enter the suite and wait for him on the bed, and that I do not turn on any of the lights. There is a small note that candles will be provided.
My stomach flips as I read the words repeatedly, wondering if it’s possible that this is actually Sebastian. Did he read my essay? Did he find the code, and does he even care?
The uncertainty is bearing down on me, and I feel like I might be sick as I begin my preparations for the evening. In my mind, I’ve already decided I won’t be able to accept any other option. If it turns out to be another buyer, I will have to turn him away, regardless of the consequences. It’s the only way I can feel at peace as I prepare to sacrifice my virginity at the altar of Sebastian Carter.
Please let it be him. Please let it be him. Please let it be him.
The mantra plays on repeat in my head as I sneak off the campus at nine o’ clock and meet the cab that I ordered. The ride to the Grand Hotel is short, only fifteen minutes, and not nearly enough time for me to catch my bearings. Once I’m on the curb, I hesitate again, glancing around, hoping to catch sight of the only man I’ve ever wanted. But he isn’t here, at least that I can see, and the only way to find out for sure is to go inside.
I make my way to the reception desk, and the woman behind it eyes me curiously as I pick up my mask and key. She asks me if I’m here for the charity gala, and I tell her I am before excusing myself to the elevator.
The suite the buyer rented is all the way on the top floor, and every step I take toward it feels doomed as I consider my fate. I want so badly for it to be him, but I have no idea what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door. I realize the potential dangers, but I didn’t come completely unarmed. Inside my clutch is a can of mace, and I won’t hesitate to use it if I need to.
With a deep breath, I tap my card against the sensor, and the door unlocks, allowing me inside. I swing it open slowly, greeted by the soft glow of flickering candles. From my vantage point, I can see the bed and lounge area, and they are both empty. It’s just me here, as the note informed me it would be. Following my instructions, I walk to the bed and sit down, staring off into the void as I set my clutch beside me and smooth out my dress. The crimson floor-length gown compliments the lace mask the buyer left for me at the desk, and despite my reservations, I slip it on as requested. My vision becomes limited to what is directly in front of me, and as I’m considering that, the door to the suite opens.