Page 41 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
Fifty thousand?Dollars?
That’s insane! He’s seriously going to bid fifty grand for a date with me when all he’d have to do is send a text? Either he’s batshit crazy or has more money than God.
“Fifty-five!” a voice from my left rings out.
What the fuck is happening?
“Sixty,” my mystery man counters without hesitation, his eyes glued to mine as he slowly wanders his way up between the tables.
He’s so certain of himself, not pausing for a moment as whoever is attempting to outbid him racks the price up. They go back and forth several more times before a smirk tugs at those lips, and he puts an end to the auction with three words.
“One hundred thousand.”
A heavy silence settles over the entire room, even the man behind the podium stumbling for words. My mystery man looks unbearably smug, not stopping until he reaches the stairs at the edge of the stage.
“One hundred thousand!” the auctioneer calls. “Going once, twice… she’s all yours.”
My mystery man grins in a way that makes it obvious to everyone I wasalwayshis, and it sends a shiver down my spine. He holds one hand out, patient but expectant, and I can do nothing but close the distance between us, making my way down the stairs to slide my hand in his.
The whole room feels electrified when I look up at him, my thoughts of fairy tales from earlier paling in the reality of calloused fingers against my palm and glittering blue eyes looking down at me.
“Miss Morgan, what a pleasure to see you.”
CHAPTER 13
NICK
Riley seems to be in a state of shock as she takes my hand.
Those pretty hazel eyes devour every inch of my face, tracing over the lines of my mask and down the cut of my suit, lingering on the cobalt pocket square that matches her dress. She follows me wordlessly as I lead her back toward my table nestled in the back corner.
Even when we pass her friend—who turns away from where Thomas is flirting with her to shoot Riley an approving look and a double thumbs up—Riley hardly even reacts.
Her hand trembles slightly in mine, squeezing every few steps like she’s trying to prove to herself that I’m real.
I intend to give herplentyof proof in that regard.
She pauses when I stop at my usual table, watching as I sprawl out in the single armchair pressed against the wall. I pat my thigh welcomingly; the blush that flares on her face is so unspeakably tempting that I want to bend her over the table right here and now. Hesitantly, she perches on my thigh,squeaking in surprise when I tug her in closer, tipping her off balance so she has to prop herself up with her hands on my shoulders.
This is how I like her—off-kilter, nervous, looking up to me and waiting for me to make the decisions.
“Better,” I croon, squeezing her hip possessively. “Right where you belong.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says breathlessly.
I grin, just the barest uptick of the corner of my mouth, but I know my ocean blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “I couldn’t just let you walk into the lion’s den alone. Besides, I’m the only one who deserves your time.”
Her hands squeeze over my shoulders as she settles comfortably in my lap, her pretty face flaring red as she glances away shyly.
“You didn’t have to pay for it,” she protests.
Like showing off for her wasn’t half the fun.
I like her knowing that she’s mine, but I like everyoneelseknowing even more. No one will dare to look twice at her without my permission now. The knowledge settles something primal in my chest.
“I know,” I say simply. “But you’re an excellent excuse to put money toward a good cause. You’re worth every last penny, Miss Morgan.”
“You spentwaytoo much,” she tells me, laughing when I just shrug elegantly. “Thank you for saving me.” She leans over and presses a fluttering kiss to my exposed jawline, the movementnervous and testing as she peers up at me through her lashes. “So, um, what do we do now?”
