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The auctioneer nodded back, his gaze expansive as he took in the crowd of men in front of him. “But I’m sure you’re all eager to begin the show—am I right?” An enthusiastic roar filled the room and he grinned and shouted, “Then let’s get the first girl out here!” As the cheering died off, he added, “Meet Chelsea!”
A dark woman with frizzy hair and gorgeous plump lips highlighted in crimson stepped out onto the stage in a skin-tight leotard and skyscraper heels. The music played and she began to perform an athletic dance routine that had the men hooting even before she stripped to her barely-there underwear beneath.
This wasn’t a strip show by any means, but the ladies were encouraged to either wear something skimpy to start with, or put on a show that might rouse extra bids.
Galan moved through the crowd to stand next to Liam before handing him a bidding paddle. “I have a good feeling you’ll need this tonight, brother.”
Liam shook his head. Thanks to these auctions, Galan had found the love of his life three years ago, Aiden then succumbing to one of the women on stage the following year. Last year Liam had missed out on the lucky streak. He didn’t doubt this year would be the same.
He’d already met—and lost—the woman of his dreams.
The gavel banged, the auction won by a bald, unsmiling man in a too-tight suit. It wasn’t until he helped his woman off the stage that his fleshy lips curled into a grin. It was clear he thought he’d be getting lucky tonight, though whether or not that eventuated would be up to the woman he’d bid on.
Liam turned to his older brother. “Not everyone is destined to find the love of their lives at this auction.” He cocked a brow. “Or be a devoted dad to twins.”
Galan’s smile was soft. “I am a lucky bastard, aren’t I?” He clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “But if Aiden and I can find happiness, then you most definitely can too.” He winked. “I’m banking on it!”
Liam narrowed his eyes as Galan turned away with a chuckle, then disappeared into the crowd. That he was easily half-a-head taller than most of them meant he didn’t easily disappear anywhere. But that wasn’t what Liam was paying attention to.
Had Galan—both his brothers—put a wager on him bidding for a woman? That Liam had once bet Galan would bid on a woman seemed like a lifetime ago now. Of course, Liam had known Layla was one of the girls who’d been about to step onto stage, so his bet had been almost failsafe. It had been obvious to everyone but Galan that he was in love with Layla.
Galan had likely fallen in love with her from the moment he’d met her.
Just like Liam had fallen for Harper.
A red-haired woman sashed out on stage wearing a formal dress, except he wouldn’t exactly call it formal when it bared more skin than fabric. The woman got the desired result though when the men raised paddles amongst wolf whistles and groans.
He glanced at Sheikh Korian. He looked...bored.
Shit.
If word got out that the infamous sheikh was losing interest, their once-yearly auction might very well suffer.
He nodded at one of the waitresses, Fiona, who was dressed in her skimpy lingerie while delivering drinks to the men on a tray. She glanced his way and he nodded meaningfully toward the sheikh. She nodded back, her long black hair swishing as she walked to Sheikh Korian, offering him a drink along with a flirtatious smile.
The sheikh took a flute of champagne with a returned smile, his gaze trawling over her barely-there outfit before he reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of big notes. When he placed them on the tray, the remaining flutes wobbled as Fiona inhaled sharply, not expecting such a serious tip.
Liam’s tension eased. The sheikh had just needed to find a woman to intrigue him. Thankfully, Korian was no longer bored. No doubt he’d focus on the waitress as much as the auction itself now.
The auctioneer’s hammer went down for the second time, the man who’d won the lady whooping before he jogged up to the stage and drew his woman down into his arms.
The auctioneer grinned. “Another happy winner. Let’s keep it going for the third lady up for bid. And seriously, who doesn’t love a cowgirl? Let’s make some noise for Harper!”
A country rock song started up even as a woman in a cowboy hat, a tiny white skirt, spiked knee-high boots and a pink V-neck tank with tassels hanging from the fabric stalked out like a goddess on stage, a whip dragging along behind her.
Liam couldn’t breathe, not while his heart was lodged in his throat.
It really was Harper.
His Harper.
