Page 8 of Wes

“So, ready to start bidding?” She guffaws.

“I don’t see a paddle in your hand,” I point with mine, smiling.

“I’m taken. Steve is a wonderful guy, but I don’t think he’d like me paying a ton of money to have dinner with another gorgeous man.”

“Oh, so I should do that because I’m single, is that what you’re saying?”

Despite my light tone, my stomach churns at the idea.

“Not in the least.” She throws an arm around my shoulders. “We’re saying it’s a fun way to contribute to Hidden Scars.”

“We?” I ask, although I’ve got a good idea who she’s referring to.

“Moira, Ana and me. We’d love to see you taking a chance to have fun and help the foundation at the same time.”

I hesitate, studying the raised platform. “Oh, fuck,” I whisper as I realize the only celebrities left are the members of Knight’s Edge and one Mr. Wes Baron. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Natalie turns to me with pleading eyes like a puppy asking for a treat. “Please, say you’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I can do right now.” I shrug. “I promise to think about it.”

I cross my fingers as I watch the rock stars’ wives outbid everyone else trying to win a date with their husbands. The audience applauds and some people whistle as the four men come down to hug and kiss the women.

The emcee turns to Wes Baron, “We saved the best for last.” Nervous laughter spreads around the room like wildfire.

My spine tingles as if icy fingers ran up and down my back and I search Natalie’s eyes. Her face turns white as I look on her and she chews her lower lip. I clutch her forearm and squeeze it, trying to reassure her.

“Let’s start bidding at a hundred thousand dollars, shall we?” The emcee suggests.

That’s the minimum bid with which he began the auction for all previous celebrities. But he’s clearly not reading the room right at this point.

Thick silence falls in the expansive hall. It’s so quiet I hear people shuffling their shoes as they look about themselves, ignoring the two men on the stage. My eyes remain glued to the man under the amber light. His mane of light brown hair hasn’t been tamed. It frames his face in stark contrast to the classic lines of his black and white figure-hugging tuxedo.

Natalie mumbles beside me in a panicky whisper, “This is going to ruin the event.”

I nod. “The press is going to talk about the failed auction of the fallen bad boy tomorrow. Nobody will care about the wonderful concert or the amazing work the foundation has been doing over the years.”

My throat goes dry, and I clench my fingers tighter around the handle of the paddle in my hand, praying someone else does something.

Anything.

The emcee cuts the offer in half. “How about fifty thousand?”

Still, nobody moves. Hushed whispers begin to circulate in the audience.

My heart crumbles as I raise my hand in the air and make an offer the reporters can’t ignore, “Five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Half a million dollars from the lovely woman in the blue dress,” the emcee repeats into the microphone, relief coloring his tone.

“Going once,” he shouts into the mic before glancing at Wes. “Remember you’ve got to match her offer.”

“Gladly,” the rock star murmurs.

The emcee swings the mic his way again. “Going twice.” He’s smart enough not to ask for more money from the audience. “Sold.”

Natalie crushes me against her chest. “Oh, my fucking stars. Thank you!”

I chuckle, struggling to smother the butterflies flapping their wings in my belly. “That’s not a big deal. Remember I had pledged that much already.”

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