Sold to the Highest Bidder
Stand Alones
♥ Nazalie's to do list ♥
Sell her virginity.
Ignore the magnetic pull toward the man who bought it.
Keep her heart intact.
Nazalie has one month to save her bakery—the only dream that kept her going through a childhood fractured by her father's abandonment and her mother's descent into alcoholism. When the owner gives her an ultimatum, desperation drives her to the unthinkable: an underground auction site where men bid for women's virginity.
Enter Joshua Newman.
A ruthless, impossibly attractive businessman with piercing blue eyes and a net worth that makes her a million-dollar bid feel like pocket change. Their arrangement is simple: one night, one transaction, one chance at everything she's ever wanted.
But nothing about Joshua is simple.
As their contract extends and boundaries blur, Nazalie discovers that the cold, controlling man hiding behind expensive suits and boardroom victories is hiding his own scars. And Joshua finds that the innocent bakery girl with emerald eyes and unstoppable determination has shattered every wall he built to protect himself.
What started as a business deal becomes dangerously personal.
Now Nazalie faces an impossible choice: claim the bakery she sacrificed everything for, or risk her heart on a man she was never supposed to love.
Joshua turned his phone toward her, and Nazalie's stomach dropped before she even registered what she was seeing. It was a picture of her and Deon
“Where did you get this?” The question came out as a whisper, though inside she was screaming.
“Does it matter?” His voice was dangerously calm. “Who is he?”
She glowered at him. “None of your business.”
“None of my—” Joshua's composure cracked. He set the phone down as if restraining himself from hurling it across the room. “You’re living in my home. Sleeping in my bed. And you're telling me it's none of my business when another man has his hands all over you?”
“We were hugging! He's an old friend.”
“I don't care if he’s the Pope.” His voice rose, filling the penthouse. “You're mine, Nazalie. While you're under this roof, while we’re in this arrangement, you belong to me.”
Anger and hurt twisted inside her chest, because some traitorous part of her wanted to belong to him. Wanted it so badly it terrified her.
“You don't own me!” she shot back. “I have the right to see whoever I want, talk to whoever I want—”
“For the next couple of weeks, you do belong to me.” His eyes were ice, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitching. “That was the agreement.”
“The agreement was about sex, not my entire life!” Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not when she was trying to make a point. “You can't control who I see or what I do outside of—” She gestured toward the bedroom.
“Watch me.”
Nazalie stared at him, searching for the man who’d held her in Paris, who’d laughed with her mother, who’d looked at her like she was precious. Instead, she found a cold stranger.
“You're such an arrogant asshole.” She grabbed her shopping bags from the counter.
She was halfway to the bedroom when his voice stopped her.
“Get rid of whatever he paid for.”
Nazalie spun around. “What?”
“The dress. The shoes. All of it.” His voice was quiet now, but somehow more terrifying for it. “Take them off. Burn them. I don't care. But you won't wear anything that man bought you in my home.”
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