Page 25 of Goalie's Obsession

$30,000.

$35,000.

$40,000.

The room is dead silent now, the air thick with tension and disbelief as the bids crawl higher and higher. Cameras click. Whispers fly. Somewhere, I think I hear Natalie whispering, "Oh my god. She’s actually going to win."

Ethan leans toward me, eyes dark. “Stop, Luce. You're being ridiculous.”

I smile sweetly. “I learned from the best.”

He hesitates.

And then, with a sharp exhale and a muttered, “Fucking hell,” he tosses the paddle down.

The auctioneer doesn’t miss a beat.

“SOLD!” Tony screams, spinning with theatrical flair on the stage. “For a record-breaking bid of $50,000—CONNOR WALSH IS YOURS, MISS LUCY DANIELS!”

The crowdloses it.

I don’t even hear the applause. My pulse is a riot in my ears.

For once in my life, I didn’t fold.

I didn’t back down.

I won. I fucking won.

Connor jumps off the stage like he’s walking on air. He doesn’t even break stride as he makes a beeline for me—his smile is lethal, his eyes locked on mine like he’s been waiting all night for this moment.

Before I can brace myself, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me off the ground, spinning me in a slow, stupidly romantic circle that makes the crowd around us cheer like we just scored in overtime.

I let out a breathless laugh, my arms flying to his shoulders, heart crashing into my ribs.

His cologne hits me first. Then the warmth of his hands. The clean scrape of his jaw as I nearly bury my face in his neck.

And theheat.

God, his hands on my waist feel dangerous. Possessive. Like they belong there.

As the room spins, my eyes catch on something—Ethan.

Still seated. Still watching.

But something in his expression has changed.

His jaw is tight. His brows drawn. The champagne flute in his hand trembles slightly before he slams it down, unfinished.

Connor lowers me back to the floor with a grin that could melt steel, but he doesn’t let go. His palms stay right where they are, firmly planted on my waist, fingers splayed like he dares anyone to question it.

“Lucy,jeez. I told you, if you wanted a date that bad, you just had to ask.”

I can’t breathe through the smile on my face.

I also can’t speak. Because I might actually combust if I do.

I glance up just in time to see Ethan pushing back from the table and stalking off toward the bar, muttering something under his breath. I watch him go, but he doesn't stop at the bar like I expect.

---