“Are you—” My gaze snags on the woman in a red sequin dress strutting across the stage, and I nearly fall over in shock. At first, I’m certain my imagination’s playing tricks on me. It certainly went haywire last night during those fitful hours of sleep, the mirage of Kayleigh Kingston naked and in tangled in my sheets stuck on a replay loop.
But this? I’m not imagining this.
What. The. Fuck.
“You okay?” Max asks, concern heavy in his question.
My heart pounds violently in my chest as my fists ball at my sides. No, I’m not fucking okay. What the fuck is Kayleigh Kingston doing up on that stage, flaunting herself in that form fitting, Christmasy dress that leaves very little to the imagination? The bidding goes wild as she flashes the audience her flirty smiles and cute little waves.
She knows her part, and she’s playing it well.
Too well.
It’s going to get her in fucking trouble—the kind of trouble she’s never faced before.
“You know her?” Max asks.
“Fuck me,” I grumble.
“You know her.” Not a question this time, a statement.
Regret assaults me.
Why the fuck didn’t I at least hear her out yesterday? If I’d known she planned to sell herself off to some undeserving bastard at this rich boy sex auction, I’d have given her anything she wanted just to keep her away from this place. Instead, I let my pride get the better of me, and I turned her away all because she called me out on being a shitty father.
I’m sick to my fucking stomach.
This is all my fault.
“Elliot?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” I say, raising my hand to toss in my bid.
A few heads turn from the audience, and I send them a warning glare not to fuck with me. I’m met with a few surprised expressions. I know some of these men, and they know damn well how I feel about this annual tradition.
“You just bid twenty-five grand,” Max says, his expression etched in concern. “Did you mean?—”
Kayleigh’s gaze snags on mine from across the crowd, and her bright expression falls instantly. It makes me feel like the biggest asshole that’s ever roamed this land. Most days, I’d embrace that description. I’d feelproudto be so feared. But today, with the woman who’s had a chokehold on my every fucking thought since the first day I met her months ago staring back at me from the stage in horror, I’m ashamed.
I can’t have her.
I know that much.
But I refuse to let these assholes get their grubby hands onmywoman.
I can’t have her.
But Icanprotect her.
“One hundred grand,” I shout above the crowd, effectively silencing the bidding war. I’m done playing their fucking games, and I dare anyone to defy me. One stupid motherfucker considers it, but I stare him down until he lowers his paddle.
“What the fuck, Elliot?” Max asks, his voice hushed now that the room is pin-drop quiet.
“Going once,” the auctioneer calls.
Kayleigh scans the audience, her earlier flirty expression replaced with mild panic. Is she mildly horrified that I justoffered six figures to have a night with her after slamming the door in her face yesterday? Probably.
“Elliot?” Max hisses.
