Page 50 of Dirty Play

Livia is standing on the other side of the ballroom, talking to one of the organizers. And, hell, she looks so good.

It’s safer to give her a little breathing room for now. I don’t want to push too hard too fast and scare her off.

Our table is near the front, close enough to hear the auctioneer’s rapid-fire cadence as he lists off the next item: a weekend getaway package to some luxury resort in the mountains. Bidding starts high and climbs fast, but I barely pay attention, my eyes scanning the room until I spot her again.

She’s standing near the back now, clipboard in hand, her focus glued to the stage. She’s trying so damn hard to look busy like she’s not hyperaware of my presence.

“Five thousand,” someone calls out.

“Ten,” another voice counters.

I don’t look away from Livia, grinning when she finally glances in my direction. I lift my glass to her in a silent toast, and her cheeks flush again.

“Do I hear fifteen thousand?”

The grin stays as I call out. “Fifty.”

The auctioneer stumbles over his words, his eyes wide. “Uh…fifty thousand! Do I hear fifty-five?”

There’s a murmur in the room, people craning their necks to see who dropped that kind of cash without blinking. Livia’s mouth falls open as she glances at me, her shock written all over her face.

“Going once, going twice…sold to Mr. Rowan DiMarco for fifty thousand dollars!”

Applause breaks out, but I barely notice. I’m too busy watching her, enjoying the way her lips press together like she’s trying to keep from smiling.

That’s right, hellcat.Keep pretending you don’t like the way I’m chasing you.

By the time the auction ends, the band’s already started playing. I’ve given Livia enough time to get used to my presence again. Time to strike. People are pairing off, and I make my move, weaving through the crowd until I’m standing right behind her.

“Dance with me.”

She startles, spinning around to face me. “What?”

I nod toward the dancefloor with a knowing smile.

“You can’t be serious.” Her brow furrows.

“I am.” I step closer, lowering my voice.

She hesitates, glancing around the room like she’s weighing her options. I take the decision out of her hands, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the floor.

“Rowan, wait,” she protests, dropping her clipboard on a nearby table.

But I don’t stop. I lead her to the center of the dancefloor, spinning her to face me as the band shifts into a slower song. Her hands hover awkwardly by her sides until I grab one, placing it on my shoulder.

“There,” I murmur. “Just like last time.”

Her other hand presses against my chest, and for a moment, she looks like she’s going to shove me away. But then I feel her fingers curl slightly, clutching at the fabric of my suit.

“People are watching,” she mutters.

“Let them.” My hands settle on her waist, careful to keep things respectable…for now. “There’s nothing to see. Just the captain sharing a dance with his PR agent.”

She swallows, her eyes darting everywhere except to mine.

I subtly pull her closer to me, letting her feel the bulge in my pants from having her in my arms for less than a minute.

“Stop.” Her gaze snaps to mine, heat flaring behind her eyes.

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