The Marriage Auction: Book One(3)
Madam Alana placed two sheets of glossy paper in front of me, each printed with at least thirty or forty images of men. It reminded me of the one time I was questioned by the police and was asked to identify a criminal they were chasing across state lines. Only these pages had a lot more faces on them, and they weren’t mug shots. Also, they didn’t exactly look like criminals. These were professional photos like you’d see on a website of doctors or lawyers.
“These are all the men who will be bidding tomorrow night. You are allowed to mark the picture of one man who you will not marry based on sight alone, if you so desire,” Madam Alana announced, gesturing to the pages.
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Madam Alana pressed her lips together as though annoyed. Not surprising. I’d gotten that look and press of lips a lot from my teachers back when I was in high school. I wasn’t considered the sharpest tool in the shed, but get me on the street and I knew my way around better than most people.
“Every candidate up for auction gets to refuse one man or woman,” she stated softly.
“There are women bidding?” I blurted as my mouth dropped open in shock.
A hint of a smile was her only response. “Women need partners too, whatever their sexual proclivities are. At our company we cater to all needs. And no one is being purchased. Each couple is entering into a legally binding arranged marriage that includes specific parameters and what I like to call ‘perks.’”
“You mean money,” I supplied with a grin.
“I mean benefits of marriage.” One of her eyebrows cocked as though daring me to say otherwise.
“So why don’t I see any female faces on these sheets?” I pointed to those in front of me.
“Because you’ve already completed the paperwork regarding your sexual proclivities and checked the box for heterosexual. That automatically reduced the pool of bidders to those of the opposite sex. Our goal is to pair like with like in the hope that the next three years for you and your future husband will be pleasant ones.” She stared at me in that way other smarter people did when I didn’t understand something they thought was simple.
“Cool,” I whispered.
That response got me an actual smile. “Agreed.” She handed me a red Sharpie pen. “If you see an individual you do not wish to marry, mark a red X over their face. No questions will be asked.”
“Okay, um, thanks.”
I scanned each photo. There was a hunky Viking-type guy with long hair, a beard, and mustache. He might have looked rough around the edges or scary to some, but it was often the guys who looked normal that were the most twisted. All the men were good-looking, with nice teeth, heads full of hair, and nothing nefarious in their eyes. There were even a couple cowboys.
At the very end I got to a pair of men with dark hair and dark, sexy eyes that looked like identical twins. Except one wore glasses and kept his appearance more buttoned up, reminding me of my intelligent, book-smart sister. However, the guy next to him, obviously his brother, was too hot for words. Smiling wide in the image, he looked exactly like the type of cocky, womanizing guy who would talk to you sweet until he screwed you, then throw you away after. Even though he was the best-looking of the entire bunch in my opinion, I scratched a big red X over his image.
Not today, not ever, handsome.
“Are you ready to be taken to the candidate room where the others are?” Madam Alana asked.
“You mean I get to meet the other people up for auction?” I blinked in surprise.
“Yes. These individuals will be the only people who know exactly what you are going through. I suggest the six of you become friends.”
Friends.
The word battled against the uneasiness swarming around my mind and heart. I’d never had any friends. Only my sister.
Suddenly this decision didn’t seem so lonely.
Episode 3
A Good Woman
DAKOTA
“Darlin’, a good woman knows her place is by her husband’s side. She acts as his right hand just as he is her left. Not two wholes, but two halves that make one solid unit.”
My granddaddy’s words were the heart, blood, and soul behind the type of family woman I wanted to be. I’d dreamed of finding a man of my very own, raising kids on the farm, and being my husband’s right hand whenever it was needed. I spent my entire life working the land alongside my grandfather while my daddy spent his time drinking, carousing, and cheating on my mother.
When my mother, Carol McAllister, left this world at the young age of thirty-four, there wasn’t a single soul in our small town of Sandee, Montana, who didn’t know exactly why she took her own life. There was only so much a dainty flower like her could weather after seventeen years of being a doormat to the man she’d devoted her life to.
I hated my father with every breath I took, but I was determined to make my grandaddy proud, may he rest in peace. Only my father was doing a damn good job of ruining everything my grandfather and the generations before him had built. The legacy that was supposed to be mine and my sister’s, not to mention the generations to come.
With renewed focus I skimmed the section in the contract once more that focused on my sexual proclivities. The options were endless, and I wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about the myriad of options available, nor had I had a lot of experience, so I simply checked the box for heterosexual and moved on.