Page 31 of Auctioned To Be Mine

It was also probably going to work. Chantilly was all about image. She wouldn’t want me showing up in her feed if I looked like I raided the free clothes drop-off from the charity shop.

“Fine,” I said, snatching the clothes from Cleo. “But if this backfires, I’m blaming both of you.”

I went into my bathroom and changed, catching sight of myself in the mirror as I pulled the polo over my head. The putrid color really was unfortunate. Combined with the too-short khakis, I looked ridiculous.

When I walked back into the bedroom, Drew burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” he managed between gasps. “You look like you’re about to mow the lawn and complain about property taxes.”

“I hate you both.”

Cleo was trying to contain her smile, but she wasn’t succeeding. “It’s perfect. But we’re not done yet.”

“What else could you possibly want to change?”

She walked over and started messing with my hair, deliberately making it stick up in weird directions. I tried to bat her hands away, but she was persistent.

“Stop moving,” she ordered. “We need to make it look like you didn’t even try.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Not quite.” She stepped back and studied me critically. “The hair is good. The outfit is good. But you’re still too put together somehow.”

“I’m wearing a gross shirt with a giant logo on it.”

“Your posture,” Drew said suddenly. “You’re standing too straight. Slouch a little.”

“I’m not slouching.”

“You are if you want this to work.” He stood up and demonstrated, dropping his shoulders and hunching slightly forward. “Like this. Look defeated.”

“I am defeated,” I muttered, but I mimicked his posture.

Cleo clapped her hands together. “Yes! That’s it. Now you look properly pathetic.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What about shoes?” Drew asked, already heading for my closet before I could protest. He emerged with a pair of beat-up sneakers I used for working out. They were stained with grass and had a hole forming near the toe. “These.”

“Those are my running shoes.”

“They’re perfect.” He tossed them at my feet. “Put them on.”

I slipped them on, and the transformation was complete. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the man staring back.

“This is humiliating,” I said.

“This is strategic,” Cleo corrected. She was grinning now, clearly proud of her work. “Trust me, one look at you and Chantilly will be running for the hills.”

“Or she’ll try to give me a makeover,” I said. “She seems like the type.”

“Then you politely decline and eat your dinner as quickly as possible.” Cleo picked up her gin and tonic and took a sip. “Two hours, max. You can survive anything for two hours.”

Drew was still laughing, taking photos on his phone. “I’m sending these to the family group chat.”

“Don’t you dare. Mom will die and Dad will be pissed. He’s the one that wanted all this.”

“Too late.” He held up his screen, showing me that he’d already sent them to our family group chat. My phone immediately started buzzing with responses.