Page 9 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

“Who comes from what, Jack?” Her tone softened when she used my first name.

“A woman who comes from agood family. A woman who wouldn’t be opposed to this marriage going longer than three years. A woman who wants children of her own one day. If you come across a woman with those attributes, give me a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Anything. During the auction, if you believe a woman on the stage fits that description, tap your nose, tug your ear. I’m asking for your help. The magic of your auctions has worked for people I care about. Brought them the loves of their lives. You’ve changed them for the better. I’m asking for no more and no less. A sign that will help lead me down the right path.”

I stood up, clasped the button on my coat, and nodded. “I appreciate your time and look forward to tomorrow.” There really wasn’t anything more I was going to gain from this conversation. I wasn’t even sure she’d help.

Though I had hope, for the first time in a long time. I hoped for something I wanted to happen. Hoped that I could find a woman who would connect to me the same way Savannah had with Erik. How Irene did with Henrik. I had hope that I too could find the woman who was meant for me. The woman who would choose to stay.

Episode 4

It Must Be Fate

SUMMER

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the twentieth floor, the one I was supposed to get off on. I straightened my shoulders, readying myself for the last meeting with Madam Alana.

“I can do this,” I whispered to myself as I looked up and lost my ability to breathe.

A man stood before me, blocking my exit. I stepped back on instinct, staring at the most attractive human I’d ever seen.

He was dark and light, reminding me of a sun-kissed day where the temperature changed drastically when a cloud crossed over the sun. His skin was the color of toasted honey, paired beautifully with dark-brown hair that had the subtlest hints of caramel. He wore a bespoke suit so dark it could have been black, but it wasn’t. It was the deepest midnight blue, the color giving off a slight sheen in the unnatural fluorescent lights of the elevator.

“Were you getting off?” The man gestured his arm to the side as though to allow me to pass.

I shook my head, incapable of speech at the moment.

His full lips compressed into a smirk as he entered the elevator. I watched in silence as he pressed the button for the lobby, which was when my brain came back online.

The doors closed and necessity forced me to take a gulping breath. I wished I hadn’t because his scent was intoxicating. An earthy desert aroma invaded my senses. There were hints of bergamot, notes of pepper, and a woodsy walnut scent giving off a masculine, cozy feeling I wanted to snuggle up with. I’d enjoy pressing my nose straight to his neck and inhaling while running my tongue along the warm surface, just so I could have a taste of that heavenly smell.

“Are you okay?” His voice wasn’t a rumbling storm as I expected, but the timbre of a man who knew he was in charge. Direct and confident layered with a coating of compassion. And it was accented. Not like a British or French lilt, but definitely European and sexy as hell.

I pressed my hand to my rapidly beating heart. “I-I…you smell fantastic,” I blurted, mentally chastising myself for being so lame. This was why I didn’t date. Men made me nervous and socially awkward.

The stranger’s lips lifted into a smile showing a neat row of white teeth. “Thank you,” he stated as his eyes seemed to trace the features of my face and down the boring, plain black dress I wore.

I must have looked like I was going to a funeral. I wasn’t usually fond of dressing so grim, preferring sunny colors and jewel tones, but my mother had encouraged me to dress appropriately for my last meeting with Madam Alana. And since the woman was always dressed severely in business attire, I’d pulled out the only thing I owned that could double as professional attire.

My funeral dress.

It was the only time I purposely wore head-to-toe tailored black. Though I imagined the platform-wedge cork sandals I wore with it softened the severity quite a bit, and also probablydidn’t go as well as a pair of stilettos would have. Something I personally didn’t own.

As I stood there unspeaking, the man bent forward, bringing his face a tad closer. I swallowed nervously as he invaded my space, his broad shoulders blocking my view of anything but him.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and his coffee-colored eyes rose to meet mine, sparkling with what I believed was surprise as he laughed.

I frowned and took another step backward until I hit the wall of the elevator.

“What?” I cleared my throat.

“You smell like a summer’s day…”

Elation spread through my veins like wildfire, my cheeks flushing with heat. “How funny because my name is…”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” he interrupted coolly, and a little niggle of uncertainty pierced my happiness bubble.

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