Father and I drive to the warehouse. It's one of the biggest in the world. It's only a few houses outside of town. We take two cars. One for me and my staff and one for my dad and my spouse. We pull in and there is a sign. Men are on the left and Woman is on the right. “Which side?” Our driver asks. I look at Father. “We should go left.” When Father doesn't react the driver takes it as an okay to go left. He drops us off at the entrance and when we walk in we are given seats in front of the stage. A handsome, tall, blue-eyed man walks on first. He's muscular and looks like a dark version of Thor. “How about him?” Father asks. “He's too tall, and to build. I don't want that.” I tell him. He nods and keeps watching the stage. More men walk on. Most look like they have done it before. After every person goes Father looks at me and asks if he was my type. Every time I say no. The announcer announces everyone before they come on. This time there is a box onstage. “This is rare. He's 5′5, Dark hair, 125 pounds, and an ex-family member of a mob a few towns over. His number is 3635 and his starting bid is $100,000.” I look up to see him throw out of the box. His face moves in pain and he looks at his ribs which look almost broken. He looks so pale it's almost sickening. But something about him interests me. I turn to Father. “I like him.” His eyes go wide. “He looks like a toothpick. And he's probably sick.” He says. “I can nurse him. And he can't overpower me.” I tell him. He nods and walks back to talk to the owner. I watch the boy. His face is tear-stained and he cowers in the corner. I want to walk over and hold him. Fix whatever has happened to him and take away his memories of being wronged by whoever sold him. The door flings open and he limps out, attempting to run. I hear him scream and I walk inback to look. They have handcuffs on him and he looks uncomfortable. For a twig of a boy, he has a good body. A light sixpack with a defined jawline and fluffy hair. I want to pull it I think to myself and then immediately wonder where that came from. “We got him,” Father says and I hug him. “Thank you,” I tell him. He doesn't hug back, he never does. But I know he loves me.
I race home to beat the truck he is in. We don't get a name till after we meet and even then I can change it. Boy 3635.... as soon as we park I run to the room next to mine and fluff the pillows. I call in four maids to help me clean it and tell one what to tell 3635 when he gets here. “Just have him shower and change. Minimum clothing because he is hurt and I will need to tend to that.” I tell her. I hear the truck pull in and I jump up. The box! I think to myself. I almost forgot to add it. I leave it under his bed. For another time. Once he’s healed. I can see a guard bring the box up and place it on the bed and open it. I wait in the hall for the maid to come out. It takes ten minutes but when she does walk out she tells me that he was given the instructions to shower and change. I smile. “Mother!” I yell as I run the house for her. I find her in the library. “I've met a man. Or no, I've bought a husband.” I tell her. She smiles. “Is he cute?” I laugh. “Most definitely.” We talk for a few minutes. “He was getting cleaned up. I should go back to meet him.” I tell her. I practically run to his door. I hear him gasp and I hear something being pulled. He found the box. I think proudly.
I slowly walk in to see him, not showered and not dressed. He looks up at me fearfully. The high difference must be slightly intimidating. I'm almost a foot taller. I walk over to the bed and he moves closer to the wall. I sit so I'm around his height. “I'm Justin,” I tell him. He doesn't make eye contact. In fact, he ignores me completely. “Do you have a name?” I ask him trying to get something from him. When he doesn't respond I stand up. I walk up to him so he's pressed against the wall lightly. I try to avoid pressure on his ribs. “Look at me” I grab his jaw and pull him to look at me. “When I talk to you.” His eyes dart up into mine and I let go. “Understood?” He nods. “I need a yes or no. Understand?” He's hesitant. “Y-yes”. I smile at him. “Good. My name is Justin. You can address me as such,” I tell him. “And you are?” I ask. “Miles.” He tells me. His eyes fall again, back down to the floor. ” I believe my eyes are up here Miles.” His eyes move back up to mine. Babysteps. “Come here,” I tell him. Miles moves slowly over to me. “Let me see your side.” He looks confused. I roll my eyes and grab him. My hand was placed on his back and stomach. I feel him pull away and I re-grab him. “It looks bruised under the skin,” I tell him. “Here, come lay down.” I pat the bed. He walks around it on the far side away from me and lays on it. I clear the pillow from behind his head and stand next to him. On the bed, he's the perfect height for me to bend down and see. I reach out and he grabs my hand. “Don't.” He tells me quietly. I don't know whether to be mad and tell him not to grab me and tell me not to. Or have pity because he's so clearly hurt. “Don't tell me don't,” I tell him softly. “And don't grab at me,” I say pulling my hand. “Now hold still.” I press my hand above the bruse and watch his face twitch in discomfort. “This would go a lot faster if you told me if it hurt here or not.” I slide my hand lower and he pulls away a bit. “That hurts.” He tells me. His voice is so quiet I almost can't hear it. The sounds I bet he makes. He's so quiet now. I think. I slide my hand down more and he lets out a sharp yelp. “I'm sorry,” I tell him. He grabs the bedsheet as I keep moving my hand and pressing in different spots. “Can you sit up for me.” I help him sit up and then I look at his back. “There's some bruising here too, nothing bad,” I call in a maid and have them grab me an icepack. “Leave this on till I come back,” I tell Miles as I lay him back down.