Page 102 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“Are you staying?” I asked.

“Oh no. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m good.”

She gave me a quick hug. “Good luck tonight. I know it’s going to be perfect.”

As the showtime approached, the space filled with models, crew members, and a select few VIP guests. The energy was electric. The emcee was going over the stories with each of the couples. A woman named Annika, who I only met briefly, was moving a mile a minute, making adjustments on the outfits.

I hadn’t seen Callum. I wondered if he would show at all. Maybe he’d decided to stay away, given the circumstances. Maybe that would be better for both of us.

But when I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, my heart skipped a beat. He looked tired but determined. Our eyes met across the crowded room, and for a moment, everything else faded away. I couldn’t look away. My eyes missed seeing his face. My entire body lit up.

He gave me a small nod, then began making his way through the crowd, greeting family members as he moved toward the back of the store where the models were preparing.

The doors opened promptly at seven. The crowd began flowing in. I was going to catch flies with as much as my mouth hung open. It was all beautiful people in beautiful clothes, laughing and smiling and taking their seats. I recognized some movie stars, some famous athletes, and even a senator.

As lavish as my parents’ parties had been, the names on their guest list had never been this impressive.

I moved to my position near the auctioneer’s stand. The music swelled and the screens on either side of the runway lit up with a slideshow of past fashion shows for Blackwell Couture. I caught a few glimpses of the show in Greece Dash and Callum had talked about.

The lights dimmed. The music shifted. And then Callum walked onto the runway.

My breath caught. He looked incredible. Dark suit, crisp white shirt, no tie. His hair was perfect. It was impossible to look away. He stepped to the center of the stage and the spotlight found him.

“Good evening,” he said. Gooseflesh rose over my skin. That deep voice took me back to moments in his bed. Goddammit I missed that man. “Thank you all for being here. I’m Callum Blackwell.”

Scattered applause. A few cheers from family members in the front row.

“I’m honored to be standing up here tonight, to be a part of this historic moment for Blackwell Couture. After decades of setting fashion trends and dressing the stars, Blackwell is proud to announce the grand opening of the first Blackwell Couture store.” He paused for clapping and cheers. “It’s a new chapter. A new city. A new store.” He smiled, and even from where I was standing, I could see how proud he was. “We wanted to start this chapter on the right foot, so we’re doing something a little different tonight.”

He turned slightly, and I felt his gaze brush across me like a physical touch before he looked back at the audience.

“The fashion business has been good to my family. We’ve been fortunate. And if karma is real—and I suspect it might be—it can’t hurt to earn a little extra credit.” A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. “So tonight, we’re giving back. Every piece you see on this runway is being auctioned off, with all proceeds going directly to a new foundation dedicated to fighting food insecurity here in Los Angeles, run by Tiana Blackwell herself. Let’s hear it for her, everybody.”

The crowd cheered and Tiana got to her feet, giving a little wave.

“And now for the show,” Callum said. He stepped to the side, and the music changed. The first model emerged from behind the curtain.

It was Sebastian. The face of Blackwell Couture.

I heard the collective intake of breath. The man looked like he’d been carved from marble. The suit he was wearing was a deep charcoal cut to perfection. James Bond. That was my first thought. If James Bond and James Dean had a child—ignoring biology—that’s what the child would look like. He walked the runway with that effortless swagger that came from years of doing it.

Ladies began raising their paddles immediately.

Callum raised the mic to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, just to be clear—my cousin is not up for auction. Only the suit.” The audience laughed. “Though I’m sure Sebastian would be happy to sign the garment if that helps the bidding.”

Sebastian reached the end of the runway, turned, and gave the crowd a look that made half the room sigh. The bids doubled. Shit, no wonder Bernadette was pregnant. Ovaries everywhere were reacting to that man.

I watched the numbers climb, my hand pressed against my stomach. The auctioneer beside me called out the increments, her voice rising with excitement. When Sebastian’s suit finally sold—for a lot—the room erupted in applause.

The next model came out, a woman in a gown that looked like it had been spun from moonlight. Flowing ivory silk that caught the light with every step. The bidding was fierce. I recognized the woman from social media. She was a well-known model.

Then another model. And another. Each one drew gasps, applause, and increasingly competitive bidding. The screens flashed with new offers.

Callum introduced each piece with just enough detail to make it feel personal. Between the professional models, we got the real couples. The emcee read their stories as they walked. I had expected the clothes worn by non-professionals wouldn’t have been as popular, but they were bringing in decent bids.

Sebastian returned in a tux that was definitely giving Bond vibes. He was pulling a wagon decked out in white tulle and little Bucky was wearing his suit.