Page 48 of Auctioned to the Billionaire Stalker

“You’re too nice.”

I blinked.

Carmen sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The patrons have known you for years now, and while they love your tits and ass, they also loveyou. You are widely discussed as being the nicest, sweetest hostess we have.”

“I… I guess I don’t see the problem,” I admitted. “That all sounds good.”

Carmen pressed a button on her intercom. Her phone connected directly to Ardley, her assistant. “Are any of my brothers around? Besides Nico?”

“Enzo’s here,” she responded almost immediately. “He just finished talking to Nico, and he’s about to head out.”

“Grab him for me, please. I need his opinion on something.”

Shit. Enzo Salazar, to me, was the most handsome out of all the brothers. I would probably be a wreck in front of him. I was about to ask Carmen if someone less imposing, like Leo, could come instead, but the door opened.

In walked Enzo, looking perfect as usual. He wore a bespoke suit, and he looked so good in it I was paralyzed. He was the oldest of the Salazar siblings. He was at least ten or fifteen years older than me. But it didn’t matter to me at all. He was… so damn hot.

He looked like a refined version of Nico in a lot of ways—he had the same black hair, dark blue eyes, and height. But he carried himself differently. Nico was tall and built in a way that you could notice his muscles even when he wore a suit. He carried himself as if he was always ready for a fight. Enzo was leaner, and even though you could tell he was fit, muscular, and could handle himself in a fight, he carried himself as if he was a king and his subjects would bow down to any of his whims.

He was gorgeous. His black hair was styled perfectly, short on the sides and just an inch or so longer on top. And, even though he often wore glasses, they couldn’t hide either the beauty of those eyes of his or the intensity of his stare.

Enzo commanded both attention and respect just by walking into a room.

And Carmen had asked him to come talk about my image problem. Oh my God, how embarrassing.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting on the edge of Carmen’s large, antique desk.

“Daisy is going to be the highlight of this month’s auction in,” she glanced at her calendar, “about two weeks.”

He got a lazy grin on his face. “Damn. I wish I could bid.” His eyes traced over me, and I felt hot all over. I was sure my face had turned pink.

“Well, you can’t,” Carmen said shortly. “I called you in to help me explain Daisy’s image problem.”

Enzo frowned. “The woman is perfect,Carmen. What the hell are you talking about?”

I smiled, feeling vindicated.

“She’s too damn nice, and she’s been here so long a lot of the guys think of her like a buddy.”

“Hmm.” Enzo nodded thoughtfully. “I know what you’re getting at, but let me assure you that given the chance every single one of those men would happily fuck her.” He said it as he stared at my body, then dragged his eyes up to mine and winked.

I wanted to fan myself. Goddamn he was hot.

“Yes, but will they pay top dollar for the chance to have her be their cinnamon girl for a few months? Their sugar baby?”

“Hell, yes.” He paused and frowned a little. “But if you’re wanting her to lose that nice girl image, have her dance for a couple of weeks. That worked really well for Nadine last year.”

Enzo was referencing one of my friends who’d been auctioned off to the mayor. It had worked out well for her. The couple had just gotten married a couple of weeks ago. Carmen and I had both been bridesmaids in the wedding, and it had been just beautiful. I sighed thinking about what a great couple Nadine and Reynolds had turned out to be.

I wasn’t looking for that kind of ending from my auction. I just wanted a nice, reasonably handsome guy to bid for me and win, relax and try to view being a cinnamon girl as a fun, good time, and take the money back home with me for a fresh start in Crosston, and hopefully turn my mother’s flower shop into a profitable business.

And leave my stalker behind, of course.

“I, um, don’t want to strip,” I admitted.

“That’s a goddamn shame,” he said, “but you were on the dance team at West Bay U., right?”

I nodded, shocked speechless that he knew that much about me.