Page 37 of Two Weeks of Sin

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“But how? Why?” I asked. “Do you even have that kind of money?”

“I happen to have a lot of money, Sophia,” Nico said with a chuckle. “I'm a real estate developer in San Francisco, and let's just say I do okay for myself. I can help your family and give you the kind of vacation I bet you've never had all at the same time.”

“I have to sit down,” I said. My legs felt weak, so I took a seat beside Nico at the counter, still trying to process what was happening. “Will I have to, you know –”

“No, of course not,” Nico said, quickly. “You will not have to do anything but enjoy your time with me. I'm tired of traveling alone, and think you'd make for great company. I've certainly always enjoyed our conversations here at the diner and we seem to share a similar sense of humor and range of interests. I'm simply looking for a traveling companion. That's all, Sophia. I promise you. You're not a prostitute and I don't intend to treat you like one.”

It all sounded too good to be true, and I was concerned that maybe Nico wasn't telling me the entire truth. But my father was smiling, happy that he found a way to pay off his gambling debt and keep the diner open. But at what cost to me?

“Does that sound fair to you, Sophia?” Nico looked at me with a serious expression on his face. “Because if not, I can –”

“No, it's fine,” I muttered. “It sounds good. I will run home and get my things.”

I stood up, my legs trembling, still in shock, and then I remembered the family I'd just seated. They stared at me, clearly annoyed. Turning back to my father, I looked at him helplessly.

“I have to help them –”

“I got them, sweetheart,” my dad said, smiling more than I'd seen him smile in years. “Just go home and get ready for your trip.”

My heart sunk. My father was really doing this. He was selling me to a stranger to atone for his mistakes. What if Nico was a rapist or kidnapped me? What if he locked me in a dungeon somewhere and never brought me back home? Would my dad even care? From the look on his face, he seemed pleased, happy, even. The fact that he'd just sold me to a complete stranger didn't even seem to be a blip on his personal radar.

I couldn't wrap my head around any of this. Was it a dream? Or was it perhaps, a nightmare in the making?

No, it was happening, and I had to hurry and pack up my life, hoping that maybe I'd return one day. Hoping that maybe, I wouldn't end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Hoping that Nico was really the nice guy he seemed to be because I was literally putting my life in his hands.

CHAPTER TWO

The car ride over to the airport was awkward and mostly silent. I was still trying to wrap my head around what was happening, and Nico seemed to sense that I needed time to process. I could see him studying me out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look at him just yet. .

I looked out the window and tried not to think about what was happening; of the way my father had so willingly let me go. There was no possible way that he could know that I’d be safe in Nico’s care, and yet he’d offered me up just the same. He was refusing to accept the consequences for his own actions yet again.

I kept the tears at bay, but it was hard to know my own dad thought so little of me that he'd send me away with a complete stranger. It felt pretty awful to know he thought I was so expendable to him, a commodity that could be sold on a whim.

“Have you ever flown on a private jet, Sophia?” Nico asked me, trying to make conversation.

“I've never flown at all,” I said. “I've been to San Francisco and L.A a couple of times. But for the most part, I've never left the Central Valley.”

“Well then, you're going to be in for a surprise,” Nico said, trying to warm me up with a smile. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I said quietly. “Just turned twenty-one actually.”

“Happy belated birthday,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, staring out the window.

If he truly had a private jet, then I guess he wasn't lying when he said he had a lot of money.

“So, you said you’re a real estate developer?” I asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “And I'm looking at developing a resort on a small, semi-private island in the South Pacific. That is where we're going. I think you'll really like it. It's beautiful.”

“So, we'll be alone then?” I asked, nervousness making my stomach turn flip-flops.

“Not completely, no,” he said. “And don't worry, Sophia. I promise to return you to your father safe and sound. And because I know it's crossed your mind, you a

re not obligated to sleep with me. That's not what this is about. So, if that's what you're worried about, please put your mind at ease.”

I was worried about that, quite honestly. It seemed an obvious conclusion to come to knowing that my father had sold me to this man to pay for his gambling debts. I was afraid that I would be his plaything, forced to do anything and everything he wanted. The mere thought of it made me feel nauseous.


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