Roman I should have known the moment Riley introduced Megan before the start of the auction that she was up to no good.
I knew my sister had a particular attachment to trouble.
She collected it with the enthusiasm other people reserved for expensive handbags and rare wines.
So why was I surprised at the trouble she was stirring right now?
Because this was worse.
On the podium, Megan looked like a lost puppy in a busy market.
Her eyes darted around as cards rose one after another.
So many people were suddenly determined to have her first dance.
I didn’t like that.
It was a dance, not her first time.
Somehow, the thought made it worse.
I didn’t like that.
I didn’t like the way strangers were looking at her.
I didn’t like the way some of them were smiling.
And I especially didn’t like the fact that one of them was going to buy the right to put his hands on her.
A weird feeling filled in my chest.
I turned to the person responsible.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Riley looked at me innocently, but the corner of her mouth curved just enough.
I knew that smile.
I’d known it for thirty-two years.
She was enjoying herself.
“What?” “Did she agree to this?” “She said she wanted to contribute, so I let her.” I stared at her.
She took another leisurely sip of her champagne.
“Besides, she’s not the only one.
I’m also dancing.” Was that supposed to make everything better?
“Why did you invite her here?” “She’s my friend, Roman.” “Since when?” “Since the hospital,” she quipped.
“She’s a fun person and I want her to be my friend.” Friends, or potential friends, did not put friends in awkward situations.
What if some old geezer bought her dance?
Ugh.
Now it was a hundred times worse.
“You are crazy.
You know that, right?” “I’m crazy?” She gestured toward the stage.
“Because I like someone and I want them to be my friend?
Real mature, Roman.” Unbelievable.
Was she angry now?
“You already have a friend.” “It’s not a crime to have more than one real friend, Roman.
You have four.” I frowned.
“Is this some sort of competition?” “Please.” She rolled her eyes.
“I pretty much won that at birth.” Of course, that was so Riley.
Around us, the numbers continued to increase.
Four hundred thousand dollars.
Then six.
Eight.
My jaw tightened.
“Alright.” Riley leaned closer.
“The truth is, I like her because she challenged you.
No one challenges you.” “You challenge me.” And she did so every freaking chance she got.
“I’m your sister.
It’s my birthright.
And as the older sibling, it is a right I am allowed to exploit.” Three minutes shouldn’t count.
But with Riley, they did.
She had treated them like an inherited title for most of our lives.
The angel responsible for making her the older twin was clearly having a laugh at my expense.
With a grimace, I turned my attention back toward the stage.
Megan was still standing there.
And damn it, she looked beautiful.
I hadn’t meant to notice—I’d tried not to—but I had noticed her from the moment I’d turned from the painting earlier, just as Riley had called us over.
She had stood beside my sister, looking slightly uncomfortable, almost as if she had wandered into the wrong building and was too polite to leave.
Her dress had instantly caught and arrested my attention.
Black.
Fitted enough to follow the shape of her body without trying too hard to announce it.
There was no glitter, dramatic neckline, or ridiculous train.
Just a clean, understated dress that somehow made her look more striking than half the women in the hall wearing enough diamonds to finance a small country.
Her hair fell carefully over her shoulders, and her makeup was almost nonexistent.
Maybe it was because of her profession.
Doctors didn’t exactly spend their days worrying about eyeliner.
Or maybe she simply didn’t want anyone to notice her.
If that was the case, she’d failed miserably.
I had noticed her from that first moment.
I’d noticed how quietly she spoke to Riley, slowing her own pace to match my sister’s without making it obvious.
I’d noticed how she’d smiled at Eli—annoying—and how she’d looked at the artworks like she wanted to question the people who made them and the people who bought them.
I’d noticed everything.
Even now, I noticed how terrified she was standing out there, her fingers loosely clasped in front of her, her eyes moving across the crowd.
If the floor suddenly opened and swallowed her, I knew she’d prefer that.
And honestly, I’d understand.
What I didn’t understand was why I wanted to be the person who made it disappear.
“Eight hundred thousand dollars,” the auctioneer announced.
“Do I hear nine hundred?” “Oh, this is too exciting.” Riley’s voice pulled me back.
“I wish I could bid too.” My sister had gone completely crazy.
I turned toward her.
“Are you gay?” Beside me, Jonathan’s glass clattered against the table.
Slowly Riley turned toward me and carefully asked.
“Are you mad?” “You want to bid for her first dance.
And you said you like her.” “As a friend, you idiot.
As a friend.” Pulling my shoulder, she made me lean closer to her.
“As for the other thing, not prejudiced, but I like men, in case you are wondering.
Full-grown men who know how to make a woman feel like a woman, if you know what I mean.” Jonathan choked.
His glass landed on the table forcefully, as he cleared his throat over and over again.
What the hell was his problem?
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, glaring at him.
“Enough with the wine if two glasses are already fucking with you.” He coughed into his fist.
“And you,” I pointed at Riley, “don’t ever tell me about your sex life.” “I wasn’t—” “Don’t.” I wished she wasn’t having any.
I better not meet the man who was making her utter nonsense.
On stage, “Two million.
Anyone wants to go for three?” Eli raised his card.
That traitor.