Page 22 of Auctioned to the Devil

Caleb doesn’t raise his voice.

Doesn’t threaten him.

Doesn’t have to.

He simply reaches for my coat from the back of my chair and holds it open for me.

“She’s with me.”

Nobody laughs.

Nobody questions him.

And judging by the expression on Richard’s face, nobody in Devil’s Peak misunderstands what Caleb Mercer means.

Least of all me.

Chapter 4

Caleb

Emily waits until we’re outside to tear into me.

“What the hell was that?”

The lodge door slams behind us, cutting off the music and laughter. Snow flurries drift beneath the parking lot lights, disappearing the second they hit the pavement. The temperature has dropped at least ten degrees since I arrived, and the wind coming off the ridge has teeth now.

Emily doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy glaring at me.

“What was what?” She seethes. “Twenty thousand dollars?”

“Tax deductible.”

“That’s your answer?”

“It’s a good cause.”

“You spent twenty thousand dollars so Richard Sloan couldn’t take me to dinner.”

I look toward the sky. “Storm’s coming in faster than they predicted.”

“Caleb.”

I glance back at her. “Emily.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Acting like I’m being irrational when you just paid the price of a small car to publicly claim me.”

“I didn’t claim you.”

“She’s with me,” she repeats in a deep voice that sounds nothing like mine. “What exactly would you call that?”

“Effective.”

She makes a frustrated sound and stalks toward her Jeep.