I Told the Mob Boss I Would Not Be Bought, So He Offered to Be Sold novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: The Block

I did not answer him.

I walked past him through the office and down the dark length of the barn, and I heard him follow.

The overhead lights in the sale ring hang off the rafters on chains.

I threw the breaker for the two nearest the block, and they came up yellow and slow.

The empty tiered benches stood up around us in the half dark.

The oak block stood in the center, a three-step platform with a rail, where three Marchants have called thirty thousand lots.

I turned around.

Anson had stopped at the foot of the benches with his shirt open at the collar and his belt hanging.

His pale eyes had gone almost black.

"Stand where the buyers sit," I said.

"Where?"

"Front row. Center."

He walked to the folding chair in the front row and stood in front of it.

"Sit."

He sat.

I climbed the three steps to the block and stood behind the lectern with the gavel in my hand.

I looked down at him.

The room was quiet and cold, and it smelled of hay and old wood.

I put the gavel down.

I took off my shoes.

"Detty."

"You'll speak when I say."

I reached behind me and drew the zipper the rest of the way.

The navy dress opened, and I let it fall to my feet and stepped out of it.

I stood on my father's block in a black bra and black panties with the yellow light on my skin.

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