Christ. This woman.
Finally, she looks up and sees me.
Relief washes over me before she lifts her phone to her ear and slips toward the exit like she can’t get away fast enough.
She’s leaving? I swear, if she walks out that door?—
Which she does.
Un-fucking-believable.
This woman is testing every limit I have.
Heat coils in my blood, a slow simmer building in my chest as I glare at the door she vanished through, the bidding climbing higher around me.
“Twenty thousand.”
Dollars? Oh, come on.
Brian grins like he’s struck gold. “Twenty thousand dollars. Going once. Going twice…”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile as the high bidder waves.
I remind myself that she and her extensive facial hair are supporting a worthy cause.
Then an attendant leans in and whispers something in Brian’s ear.
Please, God, let this be a Level 3 gas leak. Nothing catastrophic. But a full evacuation of the building would be nice.
He stiffens. Then, wide-eyed, Brian clears his throat. “We have a new bid,” he announces. “Anonymous bidder. Fifty thousand dollars.”
A collective gasp ripples through the ballroom.
I blink.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Fifty thousand dollars?
For a date?
Brian slams the gavel. “Sold to anonymous bidder seven-fifteen.”
The room erupts. Applause. Whistles. Someone actually cheers like they’ve won something.
I stand there, shirtless and furious, staring at the empty doorway where Pix disappeared.
No bid.
No sticking around.
No… goodbye.
I’d like to believe she had a very good reason for ditching me in my time of need. Something serious. And urgent.
