Page 4 of Bought by His Brother's Best Friend

“Bidding for an evening with Shane will start at one thousand dollars,” the emcee announced. “Who’ll give me one thousand?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there, smile frozen on my face, as seconds ticked by with no response. The emcee cleared his throat.

“Remember, all proceeds go to the Children’s Sports Foundation, providing equipment and opportunities for underprivileged youth. Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

More silence. My collar felt suddenly too tight, and I resisted the urge to tug at it. This was what I’d feared—standing on stage while an entire ballroom of people decided I wasn’t worth opening their checkbooks for.

“Come now, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee tried again, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “Shane Bennett is a successful sports agent with his own firm. He’s responsible for negotiating some of the biggest contracts in the NHL. Surely we can start the bidding at five hundred?”

I scanned the room, hoping to spot Marjorie. Maybe she could signal one of her friends to place a pity bid, just to break this excruciating silence. Standing not too far from the stage, I saw her anxious face. Next to her, a server was delivering champagne to a table of well-dressed donors.

One of them, a dark-haired man in an impeccably tailored suit, glanced up at the stage. Even from this distance, I could see a flash of recognition in his expression.

Wait—was that Damien Roth? My heart gave an odd little jump.

I hadn’t seen Tyler’s old college roommate in months, maybe longer. What was he doing here?

“Perhaps we should—” the emcee began, preparing to cut this disaster short.

“Five thousand dollars.”

The deep voice rang out across the ballroom, and every head turned toward its source. Damien Roth had risen from his seat, one hand raised elegantly.

The emcee’s face lit up. “Five thousand! We have five thousand dollars from the gentleman at table three. Thank you, sir!”

I stared at Damien, surprised and relieved. He met my gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Was that amusement? Pity? I couldn’t tell, but I was too grateful for the rescue to care.

“Do I hear fifty-five hundred?” the emcee asked, renewed enthusiasm in his voice.

The room remained silent. My moment of relief began to fade as I realized no one was going to challenge Damien’s bid. This was still humiliating, just in a different way—saved by a single pity bid from my brother’s best friend.

The emcee tried again. “Five thousand going once...”

“Ten thousand,” Damien called out, raising his own bid.

A confused murmur swept through the audience. The emcee blinked. “Sir, you’re bidding against yourself.”

“I’m aware,” Damien replied smoothly. The gentle authority in his voice carried across the room. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

Gasps and excited whispers erupted around the ballroom. At Damien’s table, an elegant older woman in a diamond necklace laughed and patted his arm, saying something that made him smile.

The emcee, clearly thrown but delighted, recovered quickly. “Twenty thousand dollars! We have twenty thousand dollars for an evening with Shane Bennett!”

My cheeks burned with a complicated mix of embarrassment and gratitude. Twenty thousand dollars. For me. From Damien Roth, of all people.

“Going once,” the emcee called, scanning the room for any challengers. There were none. “Going twice...” Another pause. “Sold! To the gentleman at table three for twenty thousand dollars!”

Applause filled the ballroom as the emcee shook my hand. “Congratulations,” he whispered, for my ears only. “Highest bid of the night.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As I exited the stage on shaky legs, I found Marjorie waiting in the wings, beaming.

“Twenty thousand!” she exclaimed, embracing me tightly. “You did it, Shane! You broke our record!”

I had done nothing except stand there awkwardly, but I returned her hug. “I’m just glad it worked out.”

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