Chapter Fifty-three

Cecilia

As I opened the door to our apartment, I recalled my father saying that it would be up to my husband if I kept my apartment or pursued my career. The word terrified me.

Husband.

In the picture my father painted, that word represented a dictator, a controller, or an owner. I supposed that was the case when bids were made and I was reduced to a commodity. I hadn’t thought of it before, but as Greyson backed me against the hallway wall, his erection prodding my stomach and his large hands cupping my behind, I asked for information my grandfather hadn’t shared.

“How much did you pay for me?”

“Your grandfather didn’t have you for sale.”

“You said you bid thirty million in the auction. What did you offer Grandfather?”

He lifted me higher as his knee came between my thighs. My back arched at the combination of memories and friction.

“I offered to spend the rest of my breathing being seeing the smile on your face, and to do whatever I could to make you happy.”