Page 12 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“You know how Mom and Dad are when they get something in their heads,” Cleo said.

“Apparently, their current idea is that I need to be married off before I turn thirty-one. I have less than a year to go, and I think they’re getting desperate.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to worry about them. Their quest for grandchildren can wait until after the store is up and running.”

Cleo smiled. “Good. The store is going to be beautiful, but there’s still so much to do. Final inventory decisions, staffing and training, the launch event. I would jump in but I’ve been helping cover Mandy. Being a new mother is no joke. So the whole family is counting on you. No pressure”

“I’ll be there every day if that’s what it takes to finish strong,” I said.

“It might,” she said. “At least for the next few weeks.”

“I’ve got free time if you need me to pitch in,” Drew said.

I nodded his way. “I appreciate that. I’ll try not to drag you off your yacht unless I absolutely have to.”

Drew had made some smart investments in his early twenties, making him wealthy in his own right, even without our parents’ fortune. Aside from keeping an eye on his portfolio, his schedule was generally wide open, and he liked going out on the water in his floating palace.

Drew raised his glass. “To the store.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Hollis said.

“Hear, hear,” Cleo said.

We all clinked glasses. I took a long drink of my mimosa. Feeling like things were lining up for success.

We spent another hour at brunch before everyone went their separate ways. Drew was going to get ready for a date. Hollis had a yoga class. Cleo headed back to her home office to work on vendor contracts.

I drove home, my mind still churning through everything we’d discussed. The store opening was massive. It needed to be perfect. But more than that, it needed buzz. We needed people talking about it before the doors even opened. The kind of organic word-of-mouth that money couldn’t buy.

Well, technically money could buy it, but it always looked fake when you tried. It needed to look organic.

I pulled into my driveway twenty minutes later and sat in the car for a moment, staring at the house. It was a beautiful place. I wasn’t sure I would call it a mansion like my parents had, but it was big. Tudor style with beautiful grounds, high ceilings, custom everything. I’d bought it three years ago, thinking I would find someone to share it with, but life hadn’t worked out that way.

There had been plenty of women, but none of them had sparked that feeling in me that said “this is the one.” So it remained a household of one.

It was obviously more space than I needed. But I liked the full gym in the basement and the indoor pool. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d go down there and swim laps until my arms burned and my mind finally quieted.

I got out of the car and went inside.

The house was silent. No one to greet me. No sounds of life anywhere. Just the echo of my footsteps on the tile floor and the hum of the air-conditioning. I had thought about getting a dog so I’d have someone to greet me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that kind of commitment, though.

I dropped my keys on the entry table and walked through to the kitchen. The cleaning service had been here yesterday. Everything was spotless. Counters gleaming. Not a dish out of place. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here.

I opened the fridge and stared at the contents. Meal prep containers lined up in neat rows. My nutritionist had them delivered twice a week. Balanced macros, portion controlled, completely joyless.

I grabbed one at random and stuck it in the microwave.

While it heated, I leaned against the counter and thought about Chantilly. All the women my parents had thrown at me over the last six months were so wrong. Every single one of them had been exactly what I didn’t want. Shallow. Materialistic. Interested in my bank account more than anything else.

It was like my parents had never met me. Did they really think that would be what I wanted? There is no way in hell they would have accepted any of those women. My mom was nice, but she could also be brutal.

I’d rather come home to an empty house than come home to a woman I couldn’t stand. A woman that would make my family grimace anytime she opened her mouth.

The microwave beeped. I took the container out, grabbed a fork, and ate standing at the counter. Chicken, vegetables, brown rice. It tasted like cardboard, but it was fuel. That’s all I needed.

My phone buzzed. Another message from Chantilly.

Hey! Just thinking about you. Do you want to try again this weekend? I know a great place in Malibu.

I set the phone face down on the counter and kept eating.