Eli raised his card.
That traitor.
I looked at him.
He didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.
He simply smiled.
Wait, why should he look guilty?
And why was he a traitor?
He was my friend.
Megan Holt was the problem.
Her presence was messing with my head.
Cards continued dancing in the air, pushing the bid higher.
Five million.
Seven.
Ten.
My jaw was starting to hurt from clenching them so tightly.
All these fuckers wanted to dance with Megan?
They didn’t even know her.
And you do?
Good question, I acknowledged.
Wrong time.
I’d revisit that later, when Megan wasn’t being auctioned off to dance with a stranger.
My hand tightened around my paddle, but I wasn’t going to bid.
If she was brave enough to want to be friends with my sister—whose sanity I seriously questioned sometimes—then she should be brave to face whatever came with it.
“Fifteen million dollars for Mr.
Worthington,” the auctioneer called.
“Do I hear a twenty?” Someone at the back raised a card.
“Twenty for Mr.
Lewis.
Twenty-five?” Eli’s card went up again.
“Twenty-five for Mr.
Worthington.” “What the actual fuck?” I murmured.
Across the table, I glared at him.
Jonathan leaned toward me.
“I think Eli is trying to be a knight in shining armor.” Well this knight was asking for his armor to be dented.
I didn’t know which was more annoying—the possibility of Megan dancing with any other person in the room or her dancing with Eli.
One thing was certain.
Both would be bad for my mental health.
“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked.
“Why?” I was still looking at Megan.
Her hands had moved to hold each other in front and her smile was starting to wane.
“You are clenching your paddle.
Do you want to make a bid?” Immediately, I released it, sending a glare his way.
He surrendered and turned away.
This was crazy.
The whole idea of auctioning a dance was fucking crazy.
And Riley was the craziest one of all.
The auctioneer continued.
“What about thirty?
Do I hear a thirty?” No one raised their paddles.
“Any takers for thirty?” My eyes moved from Megan to the excited auctioneer, then back to Megan.
Her eyes lowered, something shy of embarrassment crossing her face.
My chest twisted.
I was going to kill Riley.
Not literally.
Probably.
But there was enough irritation running through me that I wasn’t making any promises.
What had she been thinking?
Megan was a person, not a painting or an antique item.
And this was her first invitation into our world.
It wouldn’t be surprising if she never came to another event like this again.
That didn’t make me feel better.
“No one for thirty?” the auctioneer teased.
“Very well.
The first dance of Dr Megan Holt for twenty-five million dollars.
Going once, fair warning…” he waved his gavel around the room.
My fingers tightened around the paddle.
“Going twice…” I looked at Eli.
He was looking at Megan and smiling.
There was nothing gentlemanly about it.
The fucker.
“Sol—” “Forty million dollars.” Gasps filled the hall.
Then it went completely silent.
I looked up.
The paddle was in my hand.
Raised.
It was my card.
It was my voice.
But I had no idea what I was doing.
Actually, that was a lie.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I’d be damned if I let her dance with another man.
Not even Eli.
They’d been talking since we sat down.
It was enough.
And what was so funny that she had laughed?
I don’t remember Eli being particularly hilarious.
Jonathan turned toward me with an expression that could only be described as delighted disbelief.
I ignored him completely.
The auctioneer stared at me.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
“Forty million dollars from Mr.
Sterling.
Going once.
Going twice.
Sold!” The gavel cracked sharply.
The hall erupted in applause.
Riley grabbed my arm.
“Roman, you generous donor.
Muah!” she smushed my cheek.
“Oh, thank you.
The children at St Nichol’s are going to be happy.” Like I cared how the money was going to be spent.
I cared for one thing and one thing only: making sure Megan didn’t dance with anybody else.
Jonathan was looking at me.
“What?” “You just paid forty million dollars to dance with her.” “I know.” I gritted out the words.
“Forty.” “I heard the number.” “Million.” “I understand English, Jonathan.” My jaw tightened.
“Isn’t he amazing?” Riley stuck her head into our conversation.
“That’s one way to put it,” he managed to reply to my excited sister.
Then his eyes narrowed, “Is there something going on with her?” I almost jolted.
“Don’t be ridiculous.
It was for charity.” “Doesn’t make it less absurd,” he went for his wineglass, “or questionable.” “Then look at her.
She looks scared.” He eyed me.
“Why do you care?
You scare more people on a simple day.
Twice before Thursday.” What did that even mean?
I ignored him, turning my attention to the woman on the podium.
Megan was speaking to the auctioneer, finally smiling.
It was the first crack in the nervous expression she’d been wearing since she was called out.
The man nodded to something she said, then with an easy gesture, led her towards the stairs and off the podium.
“Congratulations to Mr Sterling who just won the bid for Dr Holt’s first dance of the evening.
Shall we proceed to the next?” His smile grew.
“Next, ladies and gentlemen, is a generous donation.
Well, mostly for the gentlemen.
I give you the first dance of Miss Riley Sterling.” “What the fuck?” Jonathan cursed silently.
My exact words.
I grabbed Riley’s hand as she was about to stand up.
“What are you doing?” “Going for a donation,” she smirked.
“You’d be surprised, brother, at the number of men that want to dance with me.
I’m still a lady, you know.” I stared at her.
“You’re impossible.” “Ditto.” Her smirk grew as she allowed the ushers to escort her to the podium.