Page 40 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
“Holy shit, that’syou!” Taylor whispers, waving my ticket in front of my face. “Go, oh my God, this is so cool!”
I shake my head, panic flooding my veins as I realize this isactuallyhappening. This was fun when I was just supposed to be watching, but now I’m terrified. I can’t go up there and watch people ogle me just to decide I’m not worth their money. I’ll pass out. Fuck, I feel like I’m going to pass out right now.
“Taylor, no! Seriously, I can’t. This is insane,” I hiss under my breath. “I can’t do this!”
“Let me live vicariously through you!” Taylor urges, unwilling to be swayed. “You’re going to have fun! I’ll start a bidding war, just go!”
She tugs me up out of my seat and practically pushes me up toward the stage, ignoring my awkward attempts to avoid drawing any attention. Everyone’s eyes are already on us, and I can’t bring myself to say no.
I grit my teeth and glare at Taylor.
“Yousoowe me for this,” I bite out before turning and pasting an uncomfortable smile on my face as I make my way up to the stage.
It’ll be fun, I tell myself, no matter how much I don’t believe it.
Everyone else on stage looks to be enjoying themselves; they’ve probably been to something like this before. No one would do it if it wasn’t fun. It’s just a silly little game.
And, hey, I’m sure as hell distracted from everything that happened with Sloane today.
The bidding starts with the first woman who was called up, my mind whirling as absolutely staggering amounts of money are called out, tossed around like nothing. Who the hell offers ten grand for adate?
I feel out of place with all of the other people up here, so obviously confident and enjoying themselves as bids are placed and won. I’m not used to having this many eyes on me, especially not when I’m dressed likethis. My heart is beating in my throat every time I make eye contact with someone. I’m sure everyone out there can tell just how out of place I am here, how much I don’t belong.
Then again, maybe some weirdo out there actually likes that sort of thing. A girl like me who hasno ideawhat the hell she’s doing.
I scan the room over and over, hoping to catch sight of my mystery man somewhere. He wouldn’t tell me I might see him if he wasn’t actually planning to show up, would he?
Sure, I don’ttechnicallyknow what he looks like, but this is a masked event. Surely I’d have to recognize him in this crowd—the only time I’ve ever seen him was with a mask over his face. Besides, it’s not like men who are so obviously gorgeous even behind a mask and built likethatare common.
My nerves triple in the time it takes for me to scan the room again, once again finding Taylor as the only familiar face.
Familiar mask.
Whatever.
The line ahead of me dwindles far faster than I’d like it to, and before I know it, I’m the only one left, standing in the center of the stage as the man behind the podium holds an arm out to me.
“And, for our final date auction of the night, give it up for this lovely lady in blue,” he announces, smiling broadly. “Let’s start at a thousand dollars!”
Taylor starts the bidding, as promised, and people start jumping to bid after her.
“I hear one thousand; do I hear two?”
Voices ring out across the club floor, some old, some young, a mix of genders, all causing panic and bile to rise in my throat. The price creeps steadily higher, each increase making me feel a little more faint.
I’m about two seconds from backing out entirely when a deep, self-assured voice cuts through the rabble. My focus narrows down on a small table in the back corner that I’m sure was empty just a few minutes ago, now hosting a familiar muscular frame and smirking lips. An intricately designed black mask covers half of his face, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
My mystery man.
“Fifty thousand,” he calls, almost sounding bored.
His eyes never waver from mine.
“Fifty thousand!” the auctioneer cheers. “Do I hear fifty-five?”
Wait.
What?
