Page 25 of Auctioned To Be Mine

Ten paddles shot into the air.

The bidding climbed rapidly—fifteen, eighteen, twenty-two. Drew was hamming it up, blowing kisses to the crowd, flexing his arms. He was absolutely ridiculous, and the women loved him for it.

The final bid came in at forty-eight thousand dollars. Drew took a bow, winked at his winner—a woman in her thirties who looked like she’d just won the lottery—and strutted off stage.

“Beat that,” he said.

“Callum Blackwell,” the auctioneer announced.

I walked out onto that stage with the confidence of a man who knew he was going to get the biggest bid of the night. The crowd erupted the moment they saw me. I could feel the energy, the anticipation. All those eyes on me.

Good. Let them look.

I wasn’t about to let Drew beat me. Forty-eight thousand was impressive, but I knew I could do better. I had to do better. It was a matter of pride. Brotherly competition.

I stopped at the center of the stage and flashed my most charming smile. The one that had gotten me out of trouble more times than I could count. The crowd of women swooned.

“We’ll start the bidding at five thousand dollars,” the auctioneer said.

At least twenty paddles shot into the air.

I walked slowly across the stage, making eye contact with different sections of the audience. A redhead in the front row was practically vibrating with excitement. A blonde in the third row looked like she was ready to throw her entire savings account at this. I gave them all a smile, a wink, just enough attention to keep them interested.

The bidding climbed fast—ten, fifteen, twenty-five, thirty-two. Then I was already past Drew’s number and we were just getting started. I loosened my bow tie slightly, just enough to look casual but still put together. The crowd went wild.

I was feeling pretty damn good about myself when I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.

“Sixty thousand!”

I turned my head and there she was. Chantilly, in that ridiculous peacock hat, waving her paddle in the air like she was flagging down a rescue.

Fuck.

I kept the smile plastered on my face, but inside I was screaming. Anyone but her. Literally anyone. I would have taken Jeff Connors’s mother at this point.

Chantilly’s voice was dominating the room. Every time someone bid, she outbid them. And then I saw Victoria. She was standing right beside Chantilly, leaning in close, whispering in her ear. Urging her on.

Our eyes met.

The look on her face told me everything I needed to know. This was payback. Revenge for the sprinkler incident. She was going to make sure I went home with the one person I’d been actively avoiding all night.

Clever girl.

Game on.

“Seventy-five thousand!” someone in the back called out.

“Eighty!” Chantilly countered immediately.

I started pointing at other women in the crowd, making eye contact, giving them encouraging nods. Come hither smiles, a little hip action. Whatever it took. I used mental telepathy. Don’t let her win. Bid on me. Save me from this fate worse than death.

Every bid was negated by Chantilly’s stupid paddle.

Victoria was still beside her. I could see the satisfaction on her face. She was enjoying this. Enjoying watching me squirm. I could see other women in the audience doing mental calculations, weighing whether any dinner date was worth that much.

I tried one more time, gesturing to a group of women near the front who’d been enthusiastic earlier. They could pool their money. I’d go out with all of them. I’d let them see it. Anything.

I was running out of options. The auctioneer was looking around the room, waiting to see if anyone else would jump in. A few paddles twitched but stayed down. Two hundred thousand dollars was insane. It was generous and amazing for the charity, but it was also completely, utterly insane.