I shrink even further. “Yes.”
“It’s not often you meet someone who’s written a full-length novel.”
I give Scott a trepid smile.
“I love it,” he quips. “Means you’re smart and have a way with words. Your date will no doubt find that an endearing quality.”
I don’t know what to make of his comments. I feel lost in this sea of madness, a nightmare of Julianna’s making. I’ve now made my way through half the battle of doing her this favor, but I’m desperate for an off-ramp escape before I get snatched up by some stranger with a bottomless wallet.
“All right, time to open up the bidding on Selene Walker, the twenty-eight-year-old florist and author from Long Island!” Scott announces to the crowd. He reminds me of a game show host. “She’s gorgeous and successful, and whoever wins tonight will be incredibly lucky. We’ll open the bidding at five thousand. Do I hear five thousand?”
He waves his arm in front of him.
I immediately start to scan the crowd again. I still haven’t found London or Charleigh’s faces yet. Hell, I can’t even see Asher or Julianna close by.
The one person I do find again… is Holt. Easily. Towering over nearly everyone in the crowd, he isn’t hard to find, but his expression catches me off guard, making Scott’s voice fade into the background.
Holt’s eyes are hardened like two shining pieces of glass in the shadows. At first, I think he’s standing frozen in the same position against the wall, near the back corner of the ballroom, but he’s closer to one of the small cocktail tables now. At least Ithink he is. My brain is foggy, and my memory can’t be trusted. My anxiety is firing off a torrent of nerves in my brain, making everything I’m witnessing unreliable. I’m questioning my own memory at this point, begging for this to end and be over.
Holt’s hands are stuffed into the pockets of his Armani suit, and his lips finally part slightly. I’m clinging onto the vision of Holt when someone shouts out the first bid from the other side of the ballroom. All heads turn in that direction, including Holt’s. My fog-filled brain takes a second to register the voice of the bidder. It’s familiar, and one that makes my stomach somersault. I hold my breath when I follow the stares from the crowd to the lone man sticking his arm straight up in the air.
Adam.
His hair is considerably tamer than it was just hours earlier. He’s clean shaven, and as far as everyone else here is concerned, he’s put together. But I know the truth of what he’s like outside of work hours. Both in appearance and personality.
He’s wearing the same suit he’d slipped into before leaving my apartment, and compared to the other men in this same room wearing their expensive suits and tuxes, Adam sticks out like a sore thumb.
Reality slams into me like a gut punch. Adam just bid five thousand dollars on me.
What the fuck?
Rapidly blinking, my worry sets in, causing the lump in my throat to drop in my stomach.
“We have our first bidder, folks!” Scott announces, his voice echoing throughout the ballroom. “Five thousand. Do I hear six thousand?”
“Six thousand!” someone else shouts.
“We have six thousand!” Scott says, pointing to the next bidder. “Do we have ten?”
“Ten thousand!” Adam bids, his arm flying into theair.
My jaw drops. I force myself to snap it shut, frantically bouncing my attention between Scott and Adam. I don’t know where to look. All I know is that I don’t want Adam to win this bid. Mostly because I know he doesn’t even have that kind of money.
What happens if the person who bids doesn’t have the money? I think of Julianna and the reputation she’s trying to uphold tonight. If the public find out Adam has placed a bid he has no intention of paying, Julianna’s name will be in jeopardy.
Anger simmers and builds beneath my panic. How could Adam declare a bid he can’t afford when that money is intended for charity?
My eyes widen when another round of challenging bids go back and forth through two others, then Adam’s hand flies into the air again, and biddingfiftythousand dollars.
I suck in my bottom lip and nervously chew on it. I want to crawl out of my skin and leave the stage. I don’t understand Adam’s motive. Worry builds, and I’m ready to walk off the stage, when someone else’s hand shoots into the air. Everyone’s heads turn on a swivel to the man standing near the back of the room.
The man with piercing glass blue eyes, wearing a lush black suit.
“One hundred thousand!” Holt declares, his gaze glued to mine.
Audible gasps ripple across the sea of others. Holt was supposed to remain in the shadows. Julianna didn’t go into detail about his lawsuit, but I do know he wasn’t supposed to make a show of himself. Yet here he is, doing exactly that.
The spotlight moves, landing directly on him. The people gathered around him back away, as if they’re suddenly remembering the gossip surrounding Holt Capuleti. Whispers over shoulders break out.
