Chapter 7: A Hundred Grand Buys You One Hour

Serena's POV

The mocking, lewd stares from earlier had vanished.

Apparently these trust fund brats weren't complete idiots.

They understood all too well that in this circle, intelligence, connections, and knowledge of old money's hidden preferences were worth their weight in gold.

What I was selling was a cheat sheet that could help them win over their parents, secure resources, and make even more money.

"I bid ten thousand!" Jeason was the first to raise his paddle, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Twenty thousand! Serena, I need to get into that yacht club!" Marcus followed immediately.

"Thirty thousand!"

"Fifty thousand!"

The price shot up like a rocket.

Those who'd come to watch me humiliate myself were now bidding frantically, eyes bloodshot, desperate to buy what was inside my head.

I stood on stage, catching a glimpse of Chloe's face darkening in my peripheral vision.

And Tristan, sitting in the front row, could no longer maintain that arrogant expression. He suddenly stood up, slammed his wine glass onto the table, then raised his paddle through gritted teeth.

"One hundred thousand."

The room fell instantly silent.

A hundred thousand dollars for one hour.

This had far exceeded the realm of consulting fees. Apparently Tristan was willing to throw down serious money just to salvage his pathetic ego.

The auctioneer shouted excitedly, "One hundred thousand! Mr. Sterling bids one hundred thousand dollars! Do I hear any other bids? One hundred thousand going once! One hundred thousand going twice! One hundred thousand three times! Sold!"

The gavel fell. I looked at Tristan's dark expression and smiled slowly.

One hundred thousand dollars. After the thirty percent commission, I'd cleared seventy grand tonight.

I walked off the stage and approached Tristan.

He looked at me, danger churning in his eyes.

"One hundred thousand dollars. Serena, you'd better make sure I get my money's worth tonight."

"Of course, Mr. Sterling." I smiled slightly and glanced at my watch. "The clock starts now. You have one hour of my time."

The second-floor room had excellent soundproofing.

Once the door closed, the noise from the ballroom downstairs was immediately cut off. The suite was dimly lit. Tristan poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"One hundred thousand dollars." He swirled his glass.

"Serena, you used to spend more than that on a single birthday party at Kincaid Manor, didn't you? Now you're willing to come to a place like this for pocket change?"

I stood in the center of the carpet.

"Mr. Sterling, if you spent a hundred thousand just to reminisce with me, your cost-benefit ratio seems rather poor."

Tristan let out a cold laugh. He set down his glass and pulled a thick stack of bills from inside his suit jacket.

The auction payment would go through the organizers' accounts, but this cash was something else entirely.

"A tip. Want it?"

He threw the money directly onto the carpet at my feet.

"Pick it up."

He stared into my eyes, his voice dripping with malice.

"You need money, don't you? Get on your knees and pick them up one by one. Let me see how the once high-and-mighty Kincaid princess begs for money like a dog."

I looked down at the scattered bills, then bent down gracefully, touching one knee to the floor as I picked up the bills one by one, straightened them, folded them neatly, and placed them in my clutch.

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Sterling." I stood up and gave him a smile.

Tristan suddenly walked toward me, grabbed my wrist, and shoved me hard against the wall.

"What are you pretending to be so noble for?"

He said through clenched teeth, his breathing quickening with anger and some hidden excitement. He pulled out another stack of bills.

This time, he didn't throw them on the floor. His gaze fell to the neckline of my black slip dress, his eyes burning. "Since you're out here selling yourself, you should act like it."

He roughly grabbed the stack of bills and shoved them down the front of my dress, his knuckles deliberately grazing my breast. I could feel his hand trembling slightly, whether from anger or desperate desire, I couldn't tell.

"If I give you enough money, will you do anything?" He leaned close to my ear, his voice hoarse.

"If I shoved this money into your panties, would you still smile and thank me like you just did?"

Did he think this would humiliate me?

I didn't even push him away. Instead, I tilted my head to meet those reddened eyes and gently rested my hand on his shoulder.

"Tristan," I said his name softly, "you could try."

That provocation incinerated whatever remained of Tristan's rationality.

He suddenly lowered his head, one hand gripping my waist while the other, clutching the stack of bills, slid up under my skirt. His rough fingertips brushed along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sending a shiver through me.

He found the entrance and without hesitation tucked the money into my underwear. His hand was burning hot, his knuckles inevitably pressing against the hollow of my thigh as he shoved the bills in.

"Mm..." I let out a soft, breathy sound and leaned into him. Tristan's entire body went rigid. The hand lingering at the edge of my underwear froze, as if he'd lost even the strength to withdraw it.

He stared at me, his Adam's apple bobbing, desire in his eyes threatening to devour everything.

"Thank you for your generosity... Tristan."

His whole body stiffened. My fingers traced from his shoulder to his collar, and I straightened his slightly crooked tie.

"Do you know why those old money families on the East Coast always look down on the Sterlings behind closed doors?" I pressed against his chest. "Because you always have 'I'm rich' written all over your face."

Tristan's grip on my wrist tightened sharply.

I acted as though I felt no pain, my fingertips tapping lightly on his chest.

"You spent a hundred thousand to buy me, then stuffed money into my clothes because you want to prove you're in control, that you're the one in power. But Tristan..."

I looked into his eyes, a mocking smile playing at my lips.

"Right now, you don't look like a smooth operator at all. You look like a pathetic kid who stole his parents' credit card and is desperate to prove to a pretty woman that he's a man."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Tristan was enraged. He suddenly lowered his head, about to kiss me forcefully.

BANG!

Just as his lips were about to touch mine, someone kicked the door from outside. The loud thud made Tristan freeze mid-motion.

"Get out of my way! Let me in!"

Asher's furious roar came from outside the door, followed by the dull sounds of a physical struggle. Tristan stared at the door, grinding his teeth. "What the hell is Asher's problem..."

At the same time, I saw my phone light up on the side table. In the dim room, it was particularly glaring.

A text message flashed on the screen.

Sender: Julian.

"Get out of that room. Now."

Tristan saw the message too. He turned his head. "Looks like the Kincaid heir is rather controlling."

I reached out and flipped the phone face-down on the table.

"Mr. Sterling," I said, looking at him, "you paid for one hour. During your purchased service time, please don't waste it."

"I can pay more," he said, staring fixedly at my lips.

"Serena, name your price. Stay tonight."