I nodded, too stunned to do anything else.
Then he turned and walked onto the stage, every eye following him. For a second, his eyes found mine in the crowd, lingering just long enough to make my heart skip. Then, he gave a polite wave to the audience, his expression calm and composed, like this was all perfectly normal. I gripped my clutch tightly, feeling the sting of embarrassment prickling at the back of my neck.
The emcee leaned into the microphone with a grin. “All proceeds going to Bright Futures, of course. So who’s ready to take a chance on love—and philanthropy?”
A chorus of enthusiastic cheers rose from the crowd. One woman yelled, “I’ll start the bidding at five hundred!”
Another called out, “Make it a thousand!”
Topher chuckled, glancing at the audience, but when his eyes met mine, he hesitated. My heart leaped. But he looked away quickly, giving a polite smile to a woman who’d just yelled, “Two thousand!”
The emcee’s voice boomed over the laughter, “Looks like we’ve got some fierce competition tonight, folks.”
Paddles shot up around the room, and my heart sank as the bids climbed higher and higher. I watched in disbelief as he stood on stage, completely unfazed, nodding politely as the emcee read off each bid with mounting excitement.
“Four thousand!” shouted a woman in a sequined jacket.
“Five!” called another, waving her bidding paddle.
“Six, and I want him to wear that tux on the date!” added someone else from the back.
“For seven thousand, he’ll evendry cleanit first,” the emcee joked.
I tried to remind myself that this was all for the charity, that Bright Futures would benefit from every dollar. But, as the price reached nine thousand dollars, the thought of someone else winning a date with Topher was almost too much.
Then a woman whispered something into the emcee’s ear, and his voice took on a dramatic tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your seats! We have a bid from a mystery guest calling in from New York! And let me tell you, folks, they are serious about winning this date with Topher Brodie!”
My stomach dropped, and the hurt I’d been trying to hold back surged up all at once. A mystery guest from New York? It didn’t take much imagination to guess who that might be. Probably one of those actresses or models he’d been linked to in the tabloids, someone effortlessly glamorous, someone who belonged in his world.
“Fifty thousand dollars!” The emcee’s voice boomed again. The crowd collectively gasped, a ripple of shock and excitement filling the room, followed by a thunderous round of applause. “Going once… going twice… andsoldto our New York bidder for a record-breaking donation.”
The emcee clapped along with the audience, practically bouncing with excitement, while Topher gave a modest nod, his expression unreadable as he stepped off the stage. He didn’t look for me as he walked back into the crowd.
Instead, he pulled out his phone, answering a call with a curt nod, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. He glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing as he continued speaking, completely absorbed, as if he had already forgotten he’d just auctioned himself off for fifty thousand dollars.
My cheeks burned with a mix of anger and humiliation. I’d dressed up, came here, let myself hope. And he had auctioned himself off for a date right in front of me.
I set my glass down, taking one last look at the glittering room before making my way to the exit. As I stepped outside, the cool air hit my face, and I took a deep, steadying breath, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
It was time for me to let go of Topher Brodie and move on.
26
I gripped the steering wheel,staring straight ahead, determined to leave the gala—and Topher Brodie—in my rearview mirror for good.
I had the car in reverse, halfway out of my parking spot, when an obnoxiously long black limo inched into view. Slowly. Very slowly.
At first, I waited, assuming the driver would ease past like a normal person.
He did not.
Instead, the limo angled itself across the exit lane andstopped, like a five-ton roadblock sent by the universe to ruin my night.
I blinked. “No. Nope.Absolutely not.”
I flicked my headlights. Nothing. I tapped the horn. Nothing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted, leaning out my window. “Move! I don’t care how important your passenger is unless it’s Beyoncé or the Pope.MOVE!”
