Chapter 23
Lennon
The Uber drops me and Sloane off in front of the Belleair Country Club. I thread my arm through hers as we climb the steps and walk into the lobby.
“Breathe,” she says as she squeezes my hand.
“So many beautiful people,” I whisper in awe as we head toward the registration table.
“Lennon Kelly.” Sloane gives the woman behind the table my name when she sees I’m overwhelmed by the crowd around us.
A blonde, twenty-something woman who could pass for Margot Robbie offers me a wide, dazzling smile when our eyes meet.
“Lennon,” Sloane nudges me. “She needs your ID.”
Feeling a little tipsy from our bottle of red wine at dinner and the intoxicating buzz of elegance around me, I dig into my tiny purse and hand over my driver’s license.
The woman checks it, then hands it back. She has me sign a waiver and gives me a white band to put on my wrist.
“You can mingle with the bidders until the auction starts in an hour. Flirt, up your chances of a higher bid. Remember it’s for agood cause.” She winks and points to her right. “Ballroom’s done the hall. Good luck.”
We step into the ballroom and take it all in. There’s a stage set up in the back with about thirty round tables in front of it. A few people are sitting at the tables, but most of them are mingling around the bar or the dance floor.
The theme is red and white. Red tablecloths with white rose centerpieces. The room is bathed in a soft red light, but hundreds of strings of twinkling, white fairy lights hang from the ceiling. Waiters in red vests carry trays of champagne.
One approaches us as we walk deeper into the magical room.
“Thanks,” I say as we accept a glass.
“Cheers.” Sloane grins as she clinks my glass of bubbly. “To moving on.”
The image of Giada in Sandro’s arms flashes in my mind. I lift my chin and nod. “To moving on.”
“Ladies!” Brick is suddenly there, hugging us. “You came.” He grins at me. “I thought for sure you’d bail after the mimosas wore off.”
Sloane wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, she’s braver than she looks.”
I smirk at her. “Thanks… I think.”
He grabs my hand. “Okay, come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
I hold my champagne in the air as he pulls me across the dance floor, through the crowd of people in tuxes and designer dresses. He’s explaining as we go.
“His name’s Nance Vaughn. He’s just your type, tall, dark and broody. Owns a chain of steak houses. And he’s here to bid. So make a good impression.”
I glance back at Sloane, who’s following us, and roll my eyes.
She laughs and shakes her head.
Brick pulls me in front of a tall, thin man in a tux and red bow tie. “Nance, this is Lennon, my friend I was telling you about.”
His dark eyes run an assessing look down my body. I immediately stiffen, feeling like a commodity he’s evaluating for purchase. I mean, I know that’s the point of this whole thing. But still, it rubs me the wrong way.
He takes my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Lennon.”
I remove my hand from his, having to tug a bit to get him to let go. I don’t say “likewise” because he’s already given me the ick. I nod and take a swallow of champagne instead.
He doesn’t seem to notice my lack of response anyway, instead launching into a rant about himself that no one asked for.
