Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Nope.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “It’s all good.”
His eyes narrow, as if he doesn’t buy it. Stagehands shout cues, the crowd roars, and applause swells on the other side of the curtain until it’s just static in my ears.
“You ready for this dog and pony show?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter.
The curtain lifts, and whatever’s left of my personal life gets shoved back where it belongs—behind the mask.
11
Rina
The room buzzes with a current of anticipation. Champagne flutes clink, programs are smoothed, and a low murmur of conversation swells as guests search for their tables. I stand with Lilah, Steele, Callie, River, and Evelyn, fighting for composure while every muscle in my body tenses. They all look effortlessly calm, while I force a neutral expression and pray it holds.
River slips his arm around Callie’s waist as his mouth brushes her ear. She melts into him, cheeks warming in a luminous flush. Steele’s hand rests on Lilah’s back, fingers splayed in a quiet claim, as if he’s reminding the world she’s not going anywhere. Watching the two of them feels like catching a glimpse of a private movie I was never meant to see.
I used to think I wanted that kind of certainty—the way two people fit together when they finally stop looking for an exit.
But certainty always comes with a price.
It means handing over trust, and that’s something I’ve never been able to give freely.
My career, sanity, and sense of control have been built on not needing anyone enough to fall apart if they walked away.
And that’s exactly how I like it.
Evelyn stands beside me, a small island of contained sparkle as she sips her champagne and introduces her friend, Miranda. The older woman’s white hair is swept into a sleek bun. Her diamond studs flash every time she turns her head. She’s easily in her seventies, and sharp as a tack.
“I’m going to bid on that handsome young man. I think his name is Oliver,” Miranda says, voice prim and perfectly pitched, like she’s commenting on the weather.
“That’s a wonderful idea.” My lips twitch with a smile I can’t quite hide. “He’s planned an amazing date for the lucky winner.”
I have absolutely no idea what he’s got in mind, but the thought of him sweating under that spotlight gives me a small, guilty thrill.
Evelyn’s eyes glint over the rim of her flute. “You’re so bad,” she murmurs, half-scolding, half-delighted to her friend.
Miranda smiles serenely. “Darling, I once outbid a senator for a date with the mayor. A little healthy competition never hurt anyone.”
Evelyn laughs. “You might just be my favorite guest.”
The banter eases some of the tension coiled in my spine, but not all of it. I can’t shake the sense that the careful, professional distance I’ve kept from Oliver is about to crack.
The chandeliers throw shards of gold across the tables, catching on sequins and silver tableware polished to a high shine. Every laugh sounds just a touch too loud. It’s the nervous kind that comes before people start spending obscene amounts of money for a good cause.
Jax is the first to saunter out to the stage, all swagger and showmanship, playing to the crowd. His grin is lopsided and dangerously charming. It’s the kind of smile that earns him dozens of bids within the first thirty seconds. Zane follows in a designer suit and ridiculously oversized shades, strutting around as if he expects applause. When the MC tries to hype him up, a few women hesitantly lift their paddles until Gigi jumps in, shutting them down with a bold bid that earns a round of gasps.
Laiken trudges out next, looking like someone shoved him onto the stage against his will. His scowl could scare off storm clouds, yet somehow the room buzzes even louder. Three women in the second row start a small bidding war over him, and the numbers fly until the gavel falls at a figure that wipes the smug look off Zane’s face. I give Laiken a discreet thumbs-up as he stalks off, muttering something too low to catch.
And then it’s Oliver’s turn.
Even though I was trapped in a car with him earlier and checked on him backstage, watching him step into the spotlight feels more like being hit by a truck.
He’s all chiseled lines and dangerous confidence. His hair gleams gold under the stage lights, and his jawline looks like it was carved from granite. When he turns that grin on the audience, the whole room seems to tilt as conversations fade. It’s the kind of hush that only charisma can demand.
“The next bachelor is Oliver ‘Big O’ Van Doren!” the MC booms, and the room erupts. Dozens of paddles immediately lift as energy surges, turning electric. Behind me, a few women sigh. Miranda lets out a throaty “oh my” that makes me nearly choke on my water.