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It’s so him, it gives me a fresh bout of flutters.

I tell myself I’m just on heightened alert. Adrenaline rushes, clouding my vision. It happens all the time.

So I smile. I grin as I picture the road ahead with the three of us and Toastique Pro. Bryce is going to be so on form, faffing about with different cheese combinations week after week. It’ll be his dream come true. Maybe we’ll be eating toasties together after the Hammersmith auction. Cheers to cheddar, and a successful bidder!

The thought almost makes me laugh out loud, until I realise Bryce’s smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes.

My adrenaline rushes aren’t clouding it. It’s plain as day. Bryce’s mask has never been up to the job of pretending.

Jack has an eye on me again, watching me watching Bryce.

“Let’s get that cheese on,” he says. “Time to celebrate your upcoming success with some Gruyère and bubbly.”

The auction email seems so surreal now, it’s bizarre. Like it’s happening in a parallel universe.

“Did you cash in on my family connections to get Camilla’s approval?” I ask Jack as he helps me to my feet.

He scoffs at me.

“Of course not. I didn’t have to. I’m far too good a player for that.”

Smug bastard.

But there’s something else in his voice. In the way he grins at me.

Joy.

Real joy.

Joy because I’m happy. Elated.

Because he made me elated.

Despite everything Jack says about money, motives, stupid rich people and the entertainment value of taking their cash, this auction business actually matters to him. I see it in the split second where his grin stops performing and something softer breaks through.

Something that must rarely see the light of day.

With that, he breaks the contact and turns the other way.

“Now… where did I put my dressing gown?”

I reach for Bryce’s hand as he passes me on his way to the bathroom, giving it a squeeze.

“Hey, you ok?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Just checking.”

He brushes it off with another fake smile. Too big. Way too big.

“Yes, of course. That was excellent.”

Excellent.

Such a stilted word for the wonders of sharing my pussy with a playboy.

It’s always been so fun seeing Bryce like this, naked and dishevelled with his corporate suit scattered across Jack’s bedroom floor. But it’s not so fun right now. There’s an urgency in the way he looks at me, as though someone has pressed a panic button in the distance. A wary shadow behind his eyes.