Babushka held her program open. Slowly, licking her fingertip between each turn of a page and moving at the speed of a sloth, she flipped the pages until she came to one with his photo and then held it out for him to read.
His gut seemed to take an imaginary punch.
There was a bachelor auction, that he’d known. What he hadn’t known was that he was one of the eligible bachelors up for sale.
There was a photo of him in his jersey holding a football on the field with a shit-eating grin and messy hair in place. Right alongside that was his professional league photo in his suit, still holding the football. Next to the photos were the wordsMost Eligible Quarterback.
Hell. To. The. No.
His agent’s specific instructions were to lay low while he did his dance with Medford and arranged for the change. A public bachelor auction was not laying low.
As if he’d taken a direct hit to the gut, his stomach clenched, then fell, then tried to empty itself all over the photo spread.
He swallowed—he hadn’t agreed to be the grand prize in the auction. He never would have agreed to do that. He snatched the program, a sheen of sweat probably appearing on his forehead.
Words dried right up. He had nothing. Nada.
Hence his aversion to any social appearances not required in his contracts. Contract-approved events had specific provisions allowing him to escape and catch a break every so often in a prepared private green room of sorts.
This event? Not so much.
But this event had Anna, so he’d sucked it up.
“I didn’t...” He held up the image, tapping it harder than necessary. “This isn’t approved.”
“What do you mean it’s not approved?” Anna asked, as pale as he felt. “The committee chair sent us all emails about how you had agreed.”
“I did not agree to beinthe auction. I said I would be one of the announcersforthe auction.” He stared at the image of himself. “Damn.”
“Whodid this?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know.” He glanced up from the glossy paper and couldn’t help but notice the extra-wide wide eyes she directed toward her grandmother.
“Tell me it wasn’t you,” Anna said, her gaze narrowing in a way he’d learned was not a good thing. “You never even came to committee meetings.”
“I admit nothing,” Babushka said with a heavy wink—dear God, her eyelid stayed closed for an abnormally long time.
He’d begun to question if she was a passive participant in having a stroke when her eyelid slowly rolled open and her eyes sparkled.
A sparkle that gave her ruse away.
“My Roman is becoming very good apprentice,” Babushka said.
“You two put Drake in the bachelor auction without asking?” Anna asked, incredulous.
“It vill be fine.” Babushka shrugged her shoulders up toward her ears.
Which meant fuck a fucking Ferrari, his night just got complicated.
Chapter 4
Drake
“You have to buy me.” Drake turned to Anna. “However much it costs. Buy me. I will pay you back.”
Anna still had the reindeer-in-the-headlights expression on her face. “I—”
“I vill buy you. It vill be fine.” Babushka patted his cheek and shuffled around him. She continued to speak as she moved forward, but he didn’t catch what she’d said.
