Page 14 of Jesse

The room is in chaos but then the announcer comes on to let everyone know—as if we can’t math—that Jesse Boston is now the highest-priced Billionaire Bachelor Auction prize ever offered up for sale.

And then he says my name.

In front of everyone.

I watch Jesse’s face as Emma Dumas is repeated in the microphone, for the whole room to hear, at least three times.

And not one of those times do I catch even a hint of recognition in his expression.

He just stands up there on that stage with the smuggest, most arrogant, cocky smile I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Looking like a ten-million-dollar asshole in his bespoke tux, and his opulent watch, and his luxe looks.

And I think to myself… Yeah. That was ten million well spent.

Because I’m going to make him pay for his indifference.

I’m going to make him pay for his ignorance.

And when this is all over, Jesse Boston will never dump another girl again.

CHAPTER SIX - JESSE

“Well.” I laugh. “I can honestly say I was not expecting that.”

The whole thing was kinda surreal. At first I didn’t fully understand what was happening. I saw the Knottingham kid go for just over five hundred K and figured that was decent. But then someone whispered that’s pretty much the opening bid. And then I’m pretty sure someone else said the Old Bat bought him just so he wasn’t humiliated. Apparently he’s got a fragile ego.

You can’t judge a bachelor auction by one dumb kid. But when the second guy—Phil Standard—went for almost the same price, I took notice.

Because Phil is what I’d call a catch. Decent guy. Maybe a little religious for my taste. But he’s fucking loaded. And all-American handsome. And a go-getter too. His father refused to pay for anything after college so he started out driving forklifts in one of their medical supply warehouses and it took eleven fucking years of bootstrapping his way up the chain to finally land a position in the executive offices and earn his trust fund.

Still… I was little suspicious that perhaps Phil’s religious ties were holding him back from the ladies.

But that wasn’t it. All the guys after him went for about the same price.

All the guys but me.

I laugh again, then glance over at my date. The delectable lady in red I noticed earlier in the night. Jesus fuck. I lucked out. I so lucked out. And she paid ten million dollars for me!

She side-eyes me as we walk to the back of the room to make this all official.

“You must really like helping kids,” I say. “Or your cosmetics biz needs a big tax write-off this year.” Then I laugh because I’m only half joking.

“Mmm-hmmmm,” she says, tight-lipped.

I frown. Is she having regrets? Will she refuse to sign the papers?

But no. She signs them. And then they give her a sash that says, Winner of Jesse Boston!

Which I love. So fucking great.

“Shall we?” she asks.

“Oh, for sure. We shall,” I say, offering her my arm.

She glances down at it. Then up at me. Then back down at my arm. Then back up at me.

I point to it and say, “You can put your hand there if you want.” Thinking maybe she’s confused? New money? Not sure how to act?

She frowns at me, then sighs, kinda loud, and places her hand on my arm without gripping it. I’m not really sure how one does that, but she manages. “What now?” she asks.