Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The MC leans into the reaction. “Don’t be shy! This is your chance at one unforgettable night with Chicago’s very own Big O!”
“It’ll be worth every penny if he lives up to the nickname,” a woman behind us quips, and the table ripples with laughter.
Oliver stands in front of the crowd as if he was born for the spotlight, every gesture practiced and exaggerated for maximum effect. When his gaze locks on mine, the room blurs at the edges. His warning look burns into me, and heat crawls under my skin until I find myself shifting.
The bids start rolling in. Each one lands like a shot, booming through the mic and vibrating in my chest. I tell myself it’s just about control and helping out a friend.
But the truth is far messier.
The idea of another woman laughing at his jokes, leaning close enough to touch him, makes something cold twist inside me.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lift my paddle.
Across the stage, his shoulders ease just a bit as a ghost of a smile flits at the corner of his mouth. The auctioneer’s cadence quickens, and tension crackles as the bids climb higher. I match it beat for beat, paddle steady, even as heat builds in my chest.
Evelyn watches me over the rim of her glass, amusement shining in her eyes. Even though she remains quiet, I get the feeling she understands more than she’s letting on. I keep my gaze fixed forward and pretend not to notice.
“Going once, going twice—”
A female voice cuts through the noise. “Thirty thousand!”
My stomach drops as the entire ballroom gasps and heads swivel in the direction of the new voice.
At the far end of the room stands a woman who looks like she stepped straight off a runway in Milan. She’s tall and blonde, her slender body wrapped in a black gown that glitters beneath the lights. Her red lips curve in satisfaction as she holds her paddle high, already claiming victory.
The MC practically quivers. “That’s an incredibly generous bid!” Applause swells around us as my fingers fumble with the paddle.
“Sold to the lady in black!” The gavel slams down in a final stroke. “Oliver Van Doren, you’ve just been won for thirty thousand dollars!”
Heat crawls up my neck as the blonde beams at him with open hunger. Oliver’s jaw tightens and his eyes snap to mine across the throng. Frustration and disbelief darken his expression. It punches straight through me, nearly stealing the oxygen from my lungs.
I force a polite smile, the kind meant for cameras and colleagues, even though it feels like I’m seconds away from collapsing. The applause continues to grow until it’s deafening.
For the first time in more than two months, Oliver Van Doren is going home with another woman. I might have told myself this was the outcome I wanted, but it still hits like a gut punch I never saw coming. I do the only thing I can, and applaud along with everyone else, pretending the entire time it doesn’t hurt.
12
Oliver
“Sold to the lady in black!” the MC crows, slamming down the gavel. “Oliver Van Doren, you’ve just been won for thirty thousand dollars!”
The ballroom erupts. There’s applause, laughter, and lots of flashbulbs. I paste on my trademark grin, the one the press eats up.
Big O.
Golden boy.
All the while, I’m fuming inside.
This isn’t how the auction was supposed to play out.
The date I spent weeks planning started off with a stroll along Navy Pier before moving on to an after-hours private tour of the Art Institute and then heading to dinner at Gold Coast Table where I secured a corner table with amazing views of the lake and champagne waiting in an ice bucket.
I wanted Rina to see the city through my eyes, to show her the places that hold meaning to me. This wasn’t something I threw together on a whim.
I designed it all with her specifically in mind.
I wanted to prove that we’re more than just a string of hookups.
And now?
Now I’m stuck with Gabby, the blonde socialite slash model who’s been sliding into my DMs for months, the one who sweet-talked her way past my building doorman and calls me Ollie like we’ve known each other for years.
Cameras continue to flash as I bow one more time and then stalk off the stage. My forced grin slips the moment I’m out of sight, and the heat backstage hits like a wall. I tug at my bow tie, trying to breathe through the noise as every sound grates against my nerves. The laughter and applause, along with the sound of my own name, continue to ricochet through the ballroom.
Zane paces by the mirror, sunglasses perched on top of his head as he mutters to himself. “How the hell did Jax go for more than me? Look at this.” He gestures at his reflection. “Who wouldn’t want to go out on a date with me?”