“Oh my! Big spender right out of the gate!” A pause. “Do we have a contender?”
Why is he doing this? What does he want with it?
Silence consumes the crowd, aside from the whispersand quiet conversations, but no one bids against him. Is it because it’s so high or because no one wants to cross him? I’m sure there are plenty of people who would like to knock him down a peg and make him spend more than he needs to. But no one lifts their paddle.
“Sold!” the announcer cheers, and the audience claps, everyone but me.
While the room is moving on from the moment, focusing on the next item, I’m still staring at Bates, trying to figure out his motive. He turns his head, enough that I can see the strong profile of his annoyingly handsome face. And then he turns more, completely shifting to face me.
The hardness of his face transforms, a genuine smile lifting his features. I’ve never seen such a truly joyful look, almost innocent—a word I never thought I’d use to describe Bates Finnegan.
My phone vibrates, and I quickly check it.
My Masked Valentine: For my girl, in honor of her mom
Unsettling warmth spreads across my chest. He can’t do these things for me. He can’t just throw money at one of the most incredible and thoughtful gifts in the entire world and hope it makes everything better.
I wonder how he knows it looks like my mom’s bracelet. But I already know the answer. He knows everything about my life, including my mother.
Applause rings out on the final item, but I don’t look up as they wrap up the event, announcing that over a million dollars was raised.
I reread his message. Once. Twice. A thousand times until the words start to look wrong, illegible, the way they only do when you’ve been staring at a word for far too long.
Glancing back up, I expect to lock eyes with him, but he’s disappeared yet again. Subtly, I scan the room as everyone starts to fall into conversation while some people are making their way out of the event.
But Bates is gone.
Is he going to be waiting in the shadows when I leave? Is he going to be hidden in my house when I get home? Just waiting to pounce.
But as my dad and I finally make our way to the car, I don’t feel the same uneasy awareness of being watched. No one’s lurking, watching, and waiting.
I don’t know why, but the pit of despair in my chest deepens when we pull out of the parking garage … with no sign of Bates.
I’m following her path to her front door the second she gets out of her dad’s car. Her porch light turns on from the motion, lighting up her face that’s being tugged down with a frown as she unlocks her front door.
Guilt rakes my chest, and my throat burns because I know I’m the reason she looks so sad right now.
I wish I could take it away. I wish she could have found out the truth differently. I would have eased her into it, warmed her up to the idea of the real me, but this was abrupt and harsh.
I understand her anger—I do. I knew damn well what I was doing when I started this whole secret identity, aware of how she felt about being involved with her dad’s players.
Idid it anyway.
We’re inevitable, always have been, always will be. I was just trying to speed up the process a bit.
Freddie greets Serena when she gets inside, jumping up on her legs and begging to be embraced in her arms.
Shit, if I were there right now, I’d be begging for the same thing.
She lifts him up, cradling him like a baby—his favorite way to be held. He plasters her with kisses, and she accepts them all, melting around him with each second that passes until Freddie starts to wiggle, asking to be put down.
Usually, he would lie in her arms for hours if she let him, but he has too much energy right now and bursts into little sprints of zoomies when his four tiny legs touch the ground.
I turn up the sound on my phone just in time to hear Serena’s sweet giggle echo around my bedroom.
The sound nearly kills me, wrapping around my heart and squeezing me half to death.
Going through the motions she always does when she gets home, she hangs her coat and purse up and puts her shoes on the rack before stepping into her slippers.
