A black, sleek Mercedes car. 

Of course. Adrian Hawthorne, one of New York's finest and wealthiest heirs, wouldn't choose anything less. The car I rode in when he took me from the auction house was more expensive, with plush leather chairs that melted my bones as I touched them. I'd forgotten about my worries for a minute back then. 

Just like I forgot about the conversation we had two days ago, in his dining room, when I told him I could take the bus to school. 

"You're free to hate me. You're not free to leave as you please." 

And then he'd folded his paper aside and walked out of the room without touching a single bite of his food, as if my mere existence were enough to ruin his appetite. 

"Miss–" The man standing by the back door, holding it open, prompted me to enter. I dug my heels into the terraced ground for a hot minute. I could defy him-tell the driver, politely, to take a day off. 

I'm sure he'll appreciate it. 

I don't think Adrian would, though.

His face flashes through my mind: the stern scowl sitting on his lips, his eyes slightly narrowed, and the air of arrogance he always carried around. I shake my head, wrapping my hands around my body with a shiver as goosebumps rise on my arms. "Eugh." 

"Thank you," I mutter as I slide into the backseat, tilting my head as the door closes. I sigh as the air, warm and toasty, wraps around me. It's almost winter, which means another round of double layering, because I don't have enough money for a proper winter jacket. 

I wonder what Adrian would say, though. 

He's bought me a bunch of practical, sensible clothes, including the pair of designer jeans I have on and the frilly, lacy blouse that had me double-checking if he'd hired a woman to do the shopping. 

"You're a woman. Who else would I hire?" His response, when I asked. 

I open my eyes when the car pulls away from the building, glancing through the tinted window. Something stirs softly in my chest, and I sigh quietly, pressing my hand to the glass. What would happen if I never came back? After all, the Holloways bought me for a dollar. I'm sure I can find a spare, crumpled note somewhere. 

And then where would I go?  Back to my deadbeat father, so he can trick me again? 

The car pulls up outside the hall for my first lecture and the door opens before I can reach for the handle. The same man from before stands behind it. He clears his throat, sweeping a hand out. "We're here, Miss. Your finance class for 9:00 am." 

I push my cheeks out into a forced smile. I hate finance. I only took it because I wanted to find a magic way to stretch out the peanuts I was making from my two jobs so I could pay my rent, get groceries and pay my light bill. 

And if I was lucky, the water bill and maybe some clothes from the thrift mall. 

"Thank you," I mumble all the same as I get out. I swing my bag over my shoulder, walking toward the entrance. I've only gone a few steps when I hear the brisk footsteps behind me. I stop, glancing over my shoulder. 

There's two of them now, dressed in identical black suits with wire pieces attached to their ears. It looks almost comical, like something out of a spy movie. 

My brows furrow and my nose scrunches in confusion. "Uhm...what is going on?' 

"We're following you, Miss." The one on the right, with an early receding hairline, says. There's absolutely no expression on his face. 

I purse my lips as my brows scrunch tighter. "Following me? Why would you do that? It's not like I'm going to run away. I need my college degree more than you think," I add, folding my arms across my chest. 

It's my only shot at not wallowing and dying in poverty. 

"It's Mr. Hawthorne's rules," he replies. "We're your bodyguards, and he's ordered us to go wherever you go." 

Adrian's words float above my head, my ears ringing with his disgustingly arrogant, deep voice. "You'll be assigned two bodyguards and a driver. They'll take you to school and bring you back when you're done with your classes." 

He did it. He actually-

"Okay," I take a deep breath with my hands half-raised, fighting to keep my cool. "Here's the truth. If you walk into that hall with me, everyone will know you're my bodyguards. Why?" I prop my hands on my hips. "Because you're too up-tightly dressed to pass off as college students. And then they'll be looking at me the entire time. And I'll hate it, because I don't like attention." 

"And..." I take a deep breath, pausing for air as the words rush out of me, "I might get so frustrated that I'll drop out of school."  

They say nothing, staring at me like I just finished speaking gibberish. I didn't think they were going to be reasonable anyway. Adrian pays them to do exactly as he says-not listen to a random college student. 

"Fine." I throw my hands in the air. "Go ahead. You can sit next to me if you'd like. But if anyone asks me why I have two, scary men around me, I'm going to tell them that your boss bought me at an auction for a dollar." I raise my voice at the end, subtly glancing around to see if anyone overheard. 

Nobody. 

I tilt my chin, taking a step forward. "Let's see how he likes it when his reputation turns to shit because of you." 

I hurry into a class full of over fifty students, keeping my head down as I find my way toward the back. There's an empty row behind a boy with a colorful vape and I slide into it noiselessly. 

A relieved yet exasperated sigh slips out. It took five minutes of silent stand-off, but they finally agreed to wait in the car until I was done. Or hang around, I don't know. I told them to make themselves scarce. 

I slap my bag down on the desk, reaching into it for my notebook, when something buzzes. I stop, glancing around to find the source of the sound. It buzzes again...from inside my bag. 

My fingers slip in and I feel something. A phone. 

A phone? I lost mine somewhere between trusting my stepfather and getting auctioned off. What is a phone doing in my bag? 

My eyes widen slowly as I take it out. It's the latest iphone, with a black solid case. I flip it, and the screen comes on. There's two messages, from a number saved as, "Do not ignore." 

I swipe open. 

"You shouldn't threaten your bodyguards, Miss Wilson." 

I read the second message. 

"Unless you're willing to follow up on it. And I assure you, I do know how to take care of my business. Which...if I might jog your memory, includes you." 

Freaking Adrian Hawthorne. I roll my eyes hard as my fist clenches, staring daggers at the screen. Then I turn it off and lean over, tapping the guy in front of me. He looks back. 

"Here." I stretch my hand out, giving the phone out to him. "It's worth over two thousand bucks and it's new. I'm sure you can sell it to get another vape when that one finishes."

He collects it without a word, flashing a smile with a missing tooth.

My mouth tips with a satisfied grin, and I dust my hands as I lean back into the chair. Take that, Adrian Hawthorne.

The rest of my classes move slowly, and by the third one, I'm wishing I'd allowed Adrian's men follow me into Finance. It might've gotten a few stares-maybe more than a few, but at least I'd have something to distract me.

I don't see them lurking around, either.

The car was gone when I stepped out of the hall, and no burly-looking man appeared behind me as I moved around the campus building. I didn't think Adrian suddenly decided I was right, though.

A man like him would rather chew nails. I knew they were around-probably blending in with the trees and the sculptures littered across the campus environment. They'd fit right in with the sculptures.

I drag my bag higher on my shoulder as I walk into my final class, sighing audibly. I make my way to the back, as usual, plopping in an empty row.

The lecturer hasn't shown up.

"Hi."

I turn, my brows furrowing when I see a boy standing by my desk. Shaggy blond hair, the kind that women always fall for because they look messy and cute at the same time, with a graphic hoodie on and a pair of slacks. An odd combination, but it looks good on him. He points to the seat next to me.

"Is that taken?"

I blink slowly. "What?"

He flashes a smile. Two rows of pearly white teeth. "The seat next to you. I was wondering if it was empty."

Yeah, I heard that. But-

I glance around the hall, a seating space for about a hundred people. The front rows are empty-nobody typically sat there-but there were other empty spaces too. Why here? I turn back to him with a polite smile. "What about sitting somewhere else? I chose the back for a reason."

He purses his lips and rubs the back of his neck in an endearing way. "I...know. We had finance together. You were a few rows behind. I wanted to say hi, but you left in a hurry." Because I thought I could blend into the crowd and slip past the bodyguards. Turns out I didn't have to get stepped on and pushed into the corner.

Shaggy blond hair stretches out his hand. "Hi... I'm Shane. Shane Williams."

I stare at it, my mind blank for a moment. I've talked to a couple people before-I wasn't a loner per se-but I didn't go out of my way to make friends. I had enough on my plate: my jobs, my deadbeat father, who I needed to find before he spent all his money or drag him out of a bar, passed out and drooling.

"What's your name?" He asks warmly. "I asked a few people, but none of them seemed to know. I didn't want to come out like a stalker, so I thought I'd ask you."

Oh.

I feel the tiniest of flutters in my chest. Just a little, but it makes me warm enough inside to reach for the handshake. "I'm Al-"

"She's my girlfriend." A deeper, slightly sultry voice interrupts our introduction. Shane turns around at the same time my jaw drops. His brows scrunch low. "Your girlfriend?"

The man behind him nods, shoving both hands into his pocket. "Yes. Do you have any problems with that?"

Shane turns to me, but I'm too stunned to speak. His face turns red in seconds. He mutters something under his breath and hurries away.

"Glad to see you too, Miss Wilson. While I'm aware that I do have that effect on women, I think I hear a buzzing in the air." He swipes his hand over his head. "You might want to bring your lips a little closer."

I shut my mouth as the shock wears off. Julian Hawthorne. The youngest Hawthorne brother. I met him at the auction. We didn't speak much, but I remember he was nice to me. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

He shrugs loosely with a half-smile. "I thought I'd keep you company."

"Company?" I echo. I haven't seen him since that day. Adrian mentioned that his brothers would come around often, but he said nothing about one of them showing up to my class. Julian points at the seat Shane just asked for, his upper lip twitching. "Is it taken?"

Yes.

I don't want the Hawthornes in my personal space-nice or not. "No," I find myself saying.

He moves in, planting himself down with a soft sigh. He rolls his shoulders and leans back, flashing me a grin. "Sorry about that night...leaving you alone with my brother. I should've given you a heads-up about how-" he taps his chin, searching for the word, "-micromanaging he can be."

"Micromanaging?" I'm navigating a maze at this point.

His smile falls off. His brows wrinkle. "You really don't know why I'm here, do you? I assumed you would've figured him out by now. I thought you were putting on a show for little mr. hurt and yearning over there."

Julian points to my left. I glance over, just in time to see Shane look away quickly. I thought he'd moved to somewhere further, but he ended up in the next section, two rows in front of me.

I turn to Julian, shaking my head. "I don't."

He clicks his tongue. "Then you might not like this."

"I enrolled for my second master's at Princeton. But a week ago, my brother had me transfer her. He did agree to sell me the bar I'd been asking for," he adds, more to himself, then turns to me. "But he wanted me to keep an eye on you. Report back to him now and then."

The anger that fills me is slow. It starts with doubt-Adrian Hawthorne is a controlling asshole, but he would never get this extreme, to realizing that he in fact would, because I'm his business and he knows how to handle it.

To fuming.

"F-"

The lecturer walks into the class. Julian clears his throat. He offers a placating smile, air-patting my shoulder. "There, there. I'm pretty sure attendance is mandatory here, so why don't we save our rage until later? I own a rage room." 

"I don-" I start to refuse. 

But he's already on his feet, heading to the front of the class. He nods at the lecturer, shoving his hands into his pocket and sauntering out. I don't miss the lingering, admiring looks he gets from a group of girls a few rows ahead. 

One of them takes out her phone, but he's already gone. 

I facepalm, hard, muffling my frustrated groan. God, in heaven. I want to strangle Adrian Hawthorne.

"Hey." 

I jump out of my skin, staggering backwards and losing my balance at the same time. Julian reaches out, his fingers coolly slipping around my wrist and breaking my fall. "Woah," he says, "what happened in there to make you so jumpy?" 

I roll my eyes at him before I can stop myself, but I don't feel any remorse seeing the twitchy smile on his lips. "You did that on purpose." 

"Me?" He points at his chest, feigning ignorance with widened eyes. "Why would I do that? My brother would have my head if I stopped your heart." 

"Yeah, right," I mutter under my breath, pushing my bag higher. I stare ahead, glancing around for the car. I didn't think I would miss the bodyguards, but at least they didn't talk my ear off or tease me for personal entertainment. 

"Hey!" I hear Julian calling after me. "Wait up! I didn't mean it, I promise." 

I know he's lying. 

Julian Hawthorne might not be as cold, demanding, or thick-headed as his oldest brother, but he's definitely a walking red flag I plan on staying clear of. I didn't figure out the night at the auction, but now I know that he sees people as playthings. He enjoyed the look on Shane's face when he made him leave and the attention he got before he left the classroom. 

A walking attention magnet. 

"Alina?" 

I can see the car now, parked in one of the restricted parking lots used by tenured professors. I walk faster, gripping my bag so it doesn't slip. The two men are standing close by, and I raise my hand, giving a small wave. 

Open the door. Open the–

I see the moment they realize Julian is still following me. They bow instantly, heads facing the ground. I hear Julian's chuckle. "Please," he says. "Let's do without the formality, shall we?" 

He throws an arm over my shoulders, and I cringe on the inside, shutting my eyes for a moment. "I'll be taking Miss Wilson here for a little shopping trip. You can head back to my brother. He's been informed," he adds when one of them frowns, his lips puckered tight. "You can call him if you don't believe me."

Neither of them attempts to. Either out of fear or respect for Julian...or because they trust him, I don't know. I have a sneaky feeling it's the former, though. Julian might be the youngest brother, but he's still a Hawthorne.

And I doubt Adrian would choose them over his brother. 

I tilt my head his way, arching a brow. "Why would I go shopping? I have clothes." More than enough, actually. And it's not like I'll be attending parties or dining with the one percent of New York City. I might live with Adrian, but I haven't forgotten what I am to him.

Julian leans in with a cheeky smile. "You see, there's a party happening tonight. My brother doesn't think you should attend, but I think you're part of the family now. Somebody is bound to find out that you live with him and..." he waves a hand around. "You know how rumors go around." 

He rubs his hands together. "So, before they come to their conclusion, I think it's best to set our story straight." 

"What? That I didn't get auctioned off? That your family didn't buy me for a dollar?" I bite, scoffing under my breath. I sigh, feeling a little guilty. It wasn't Julian who held the paddle. "They'll ask questions. I'm not rich, like you. And I don't want to go against your brother." 

Justin shakes his head. "The thing about Adrian is that sometimes he doesn't know what's good for him. And about looking the part?" He taps his nose. "Well, that's why you have me. I'm something of a fashion connoisseur. You'd fit right in; nobody would think to ask you any questions." 

"Except for where you got your dress," he adds smugly. "So? What do you say?" 

I've been to parties before. Birthday parties, with a few slices of cake to go around. I once crashed a wedding because they held it in the gazebo of a conservatory. I didn't know the punch was spiked, and I ended up doing a dance number for the bridesmaids. 

A fancy party with New York's richest. 

I glance down at my clothes-at my plain shirt and jeans. "I guess I could–" 

Julian grabs my arm, not waiting for me to finish. "Let's go. You'll love it, I promise." He drags me over to where a Bentley convertible is parked, with a bunch of younger college students taking pictures with it. They scatter when it beeps, staring with dropped jaws as Julian opens the door for me. 

He sweeps a hand out, doing a little bow. "In you go, my lady." 

"You don't have to do that," I mutter through clenched teeth. "They're going to think we're dating. It's enough that you made a scene in my class. I don't want some girl ambushing me because she thinks I'm not good enough for you." 

Julian raises his head. The corner of his lips lifts, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then maybe I should warn them that my brother doesn't tread light with what belongs to him." 

I swallow my retort of, "I'm not property," as I slip into the car.  I ignore the slight shiver in my chest and the way my breath catches softly as I replay Julian's words in my head.

What belongs to him. 

In other words, property. It should make me angry, but the tingling in my chest says otherwise. 

"Ready to go?" 

I nod curtly as Julian sits behind the wheel. He points to my seatbelt. "You might want to use that, because it gets a little fast." I buckle up quickly, clinging to the belt as a lifeline. If I know Julian Hawthorne, "little fast" means he's about to beat every traffic sign and drive us over a cliff, if possible. 

He laughs when he sees my death grip. "Don't worry, I won't get us into an accident. I wasn't joking when I said Adrian would have my head if something happened to you." The tingling comes again. I ignore it, focusing on the cars as Julian speeds past them.

He's only trying to make me feel better, I tell myself. I can't be worth that much to him, not even if my stepfather promised to sell his soul. Or my soul. 

I go through every dress in the designer fashion house. At least that's how it feels after three hours of stepping into the dressing room, tugging all kinds of fabric over my body, then having to watch Julian shake his head. 

"No." 

"Too plain." 

"Too flashy." 

"Why is that sold here?" This one was to the manager, after she heard we were in the store and came to offer assistance. At least I got a glass of champagne from it.

"Would you wear this?" He said it to one of the salespersons. "Maybe you would, but it's not good enough for her." 

"Maybe I shouldn't go." I'd said at some point. He simply shook his head, a strange gleam in his eye. "You have to be there." 

Finally, we were ushered to a showroom with dresses and designs that hadn't been released to the public. I fall in love with the first one I see. A soft yellow dress with a dramatic V-neckline at the front and a decolletage sweeping downward into a mermaid-style skirt, with short cap sleeves and a plunging back. 

I finger the soft material, and it feels like a murmured, smoky whisper against my skin. 

"You'd look perfect in it," the manager gushes. "With your body figure..." she gestures, "it might have well been made for you." 

My body. 

I've never thought too much about my body. I didn't think it was the best, but I knew I couldn't change it either. I didn't have the luxury of weight loss dieting or the money for tucks here and there. Julian walks over, holding an open box. "These would pair nicely." 

My breath catches audibly in my chest as I stare at the most gorgeous pair of silver earrings. "I–" 

"Yup," he nods. "I told you. You just had to trust me. I can't wait to see the look on Adrian's face when he sees you." 

Adrian? 

I frown a little, but the thought of him slides in, uninvited, his face vivid in my head. A delicate shiver runs down my spine as my fingers sink into my dress, settling as a flutter in my stomach. 

He wouldn't care. He doesn't want me there in the first place. 

I tell myself that, but when the gown slips down my body, framing the curves I always thought were average, I can't help but wonder what Adrian Hawthorne would think.