“Let’s do this,” he said to Ziggy.
Stone quietly rehearsed the pivotal line he’d been given to deliver. It was a line spoken by the beloved hero to his heroine—a line that gave Sophie her fantasy’s desire.
“Go,” Ziggy ordered. “You’re on.”
As Stone stepped onto the stage, the crowd’s applause washed over him like a tidal wave of sound, causing his steps to momentarily falter. Fuck. What if this was a mistake? He peered through the narrow slits of his mask, scanning the faces forSophie’s. She’d moved. No longer in the same spot she’d been in all night.
Relief washed through him when he finally located her.
There she was, Sophie E. Clark, the woman whose relentlessly optimistic outlook on life had effortlessly capsized his world. Only she wasn’t smiling at the new bachelor on the stage. Instead, her face was an impenetrable mask, her eyes sharp and searching, roaming over his disguised form as if trying to decide if she knew him.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our final and most enigmatic book boyfriend of the evening,” Isabella said. “Please welcome Penny Reid’s Alex fromLove Hacked.Tonight, he’s known simply as Mr. X.
“Like Alex, Mr. X harbors a secret—a secret he’s willing to disclose exclusively to the highest bidder. A secret so compelling, he’s offering a money-back guarantee if you’re not thoroughly intrigued.” Isabella pivoted toward Stone. “Mr. X, if you would, please share yourthen he saidline?”
Stone didn’t glance at his cue card. His gaze locked with Sophie’s as he leaned into the microphone. “I’m going to touch you how I like, whenever I like, and you’re going to let me,” he declared, his voice a mix of command and vulnerability and truth.
Sophie blinked, the swift motion breaking their connection for a fraction of a second. When her eyes opened again, recognition—sharp and profound and angry—flared within them.
Panic swept through Stone. Recognizing him wasn’t supposed to make her angry. This was a grand gesture. They were supposed to make a person swoon. But the look in Sophie’s eyes told the story of a woman who wanted to commit murder.
“The bid on Mr. X is starting at…” Isabella’s voice rang out, echoing through the charged atmosphere of the auction hall, and cutting through thefuck, fuck, fuckfog in Stone’s head.
So much fuck fog that Stone was barely aware of the numbers flying around like buzzards. His focus was entirely on Sophie. A woman who most certainly wasn’t bidding on him.
Her eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were sharp and piercing, slicing through the distance between them with an intensity that seemed almost tangible. If she didn’t see his presence on the stage as a grand gesture, how did she view it?
Like an invasion of the finale of her professional daydreamer gig?
Was his being on the stage marring her happiness?
Of course it was. This had been a mistake. A massive mistake. She didn’t see his presence as him becoming vulnerable. She saw it as him mocking her hard work.
His grand gesture was a grand wreck.
And if Sophie didn’t bid, someone else would win. Someone expecting a giant-ass secret out of him. Why the hell hadn’t they all devised a backup secret?
Wait. He had a backup plan. A different line he could have cited from the book. One that made him one hundred percent vulnerable.
Just as the auctioneer’s voice signaled the bids were approaching their climax, Ms. Birdie glided gracefully next to Sophie and laid a hand on her arm. As if startled, Sophie flinched.
Stone held his breath as the two women exchanged a few hushed words.
“I have ninety-five going once… going twice... and—”
“Wait,” Stone said. He moved to Isabella. Took the microphone. Looked at Sophie. “I have one more line from the bookLove Hackedthat I’d like to recite, if that’s okay with the audience.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
Applause rang out.
Stone made eye contact with Sophie and slowly repeated his favorite line from Penny Reid’s novel. “I don’t want to learn how to live without you.”
“One hundred.” Sophie’s voice rang out, her paddle slicing the air with decisive energy.
His chest heaved in relief. He glanced at Isabella, willing her to bring her gavel down.
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Because the bidders went wild.
