{"id":252281,"date":"2026-07-13T01:55:54","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:55:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/auctioned-to-the-artist-echo-lark-1\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T01:55:54","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:55:54","slug":"auctioned-to-the-artist-echo-lark-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/auctioned-to-the-artist-echo-lark-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Auctioned To The Artist – Echo Lark (1)"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Then I heard it. Soft footsteps against the thinly carpeted floorboards that were likely older than us. Lucy. It had to be. None of my friends were ever cautious, even Maisie. But Lucy took soft, even steps this time. Cautious. I closed my eyes and trained my ears to the sound, mapping the distance he must be. When I heard the creak right outside my hiding spot, I leapt into action, lunging from the darkness behind the wall and crowding Lucy against the wall.<\/p>\n

Lucy yelped and swung, but I was too close for it to result in much more than smacking his gun against my arm as I planted one hand on the wall beside Lucy\u2019s pale hair. \u201cKnox,\u201d he gasped, eyes wide and breath coming in ragged pants from what must have been quite the shock.<\/p>\n

But he didn\u2019t complain about our closeness, and his empty hand even moved to hover in front of my chest, like he wanted to rest his hand there but realized a split second before he made contact what he\u2019d been doing. Just like I knew it would, my heart jumped into my throat at his proximity. At those damn eyes trained on me like I was the only thing in the room.<\/p>\n

It fed my ego, admittedly, but it also made me want to show him exactly how good I could make him feel. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and I couldn\u2019t take it anymore. \u201cFuck it.\u201d I dropped my gun and kissed him for all I was worth. He grunted at the force behind it, but the hand hovering over my chest was now fisting my shirt in a tight grip and pulling me impossibly closer.<\/p>\n

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The ass was sitting\u2014no, lounging\u2014in a cozy-looking seat that didn\u2019t look like it belonged in a club, and he was smirking at me. His arms were behind his head, and his feet were kicked up onto the short coffee table there. I scoffed. “No, of course not. Instead, I’m letting you auction me off to some rich dick for an entire month!” We were in something of a green room inside The Sweet Pea Menagerie, a club for questionable shenanigans like bachelor auctions and marriages of convenience for rich folks who had a spare half a million dollars in their wallet.<\/p>\n

After Duke had signed my name under one of the auction items\u2014fucking rude\u2014we\u2019d been sequestered away to our own tiny room, complete with hot pink velvet curtains and a vanity mirror with theater lighting. The privacy was surprising, but not unwelcome. I needed every ounce of will I could muster if I wanted any hope of staying calm here. Honestly, someone should give me a shot. I already knew there were shirtless servers in the main area with flutes of champagne and countless other alcoholic beverages I could swipe.<\/p>\n

Duke grinned. “I mean, yeah. But look on the bright side. What if you find yourself a sugar daddy? You’ll be thanking me then.” “No chance in fucking hell,” I growled, shoving at him, only to have to fix the cuff on the arm of my crisp, white chef’s coat.<\/p>\n

Duke sobered, probably sensing the depth of my irritation. “Okay. Alright. Knox, dude, just take it like a man, alright? You need the money, and it will put you out there as a real chef. It’s your chance!” He stood and gripped my shoulders, making me meet his intense gaze. We\u2019d been best friends since we were kids. I trusted him with my life. It took some of the wind out of my sails. “To a bunch of rich dicks, you mean,” I huffed, but I felt myself relax, even just slightly, at his words.<\/p>\n

I was freshly back home from culinary school, the last wish of my dying grandmother, so I\u2019d hiked myself off to New York for almost three years to get a patch on my fancy chef\u2019s coat. “It’s still money,” he reasoned. “Money you need. It’s Nana’s house. It’s yours. Don’t let that asshole take it from you. Not this.” I clenched my teeth. I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my father trying to steal away from me the only home I’ve ever had.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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