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“What was the fantasy?” He didn’t need to know for any other reason than he wanted to know. What kind of fantasies was a girl like Charlotte Duvall looking to fulfill?
And how well did they align with the ones he’d been having about her lately?
Looking distinctly more uncomfortable now, Charlotte squirmed in her seat. “I don’t understand. Don’t you run the auction? Shouldn’t you know all of this already?”
“Humor me.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She rolled her eyes, but a pink blush was already creeping into her cheeks. “It was the virgin auction, if you really must know.”
He’d known. Somehow, he felt like he’d known the moment he’d seen the photos. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it. “So you lied. Again.”
“No!” Indignant fury vibrated in her voice. “I did not lie!”
There was a sincerity in her tone that nearly convinced him. “Fine. Say you aren’t lying, then. What the hell possessed you to sell your virginity to a man you’d never met?”
“I thought it was your auction! I thought it was safe!”
Warmth blossomed in his chest at the knowledge she felt safe with him, because of him, before he realized it was probably because she saw him as a non-threatening sort of father figure. After all, he’d known her almost her entire life, and he’d never given her a reason to be afraid of him.
Perhaps he should have, and they wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.
“But why?” he pressed, even as she glared daggers at him. “It’s not like you need the money.”
“None of your business.”
Temper replaced the warm glow and he just barely managed not to snarl. “You’ve made it my business by coming to my club and using our relationship to get yourself in the door.”
“Oh my god, why are you making a federal case out of this? I needed money; I found a way to make money. What’s your problem?”
“What do you need money for, Charlotte? Did Emmett finally get tired of you leeching off him, so you decided selling yourself to the highest bidder was easier than getting a real job?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she glared up at him. “Fuck you.” Her voice trembled, nearly cracking, and he could see the betrayal she must be feeling written all over her face.
Fuck.
“Charlotte.” Killian’s tone managed to be both scolding and soothing at the same time. “Despite being an utter cad, Master Braden is still the owner of this club and as such deserves your respect. Apologize.”
“No, I’m the one who owes Charlotte an apology,” Braden said, running a hand through his hair as his stomach rolled with regret. He’d been more than a cad; he’d been a true fucking asshole. “This auction business has me out of sorts, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry, Lottie-bug.”
As he’d hoped, the childhood nickname seemed to ease the tension in her shoulders, though she was still looking up at him with those wounded eyes that made him want to gather her up in his arms and cuddle her until the hurt feelings faded. “Sorry I swore at you.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Now that we’ve cleared the air,” Killian said dryly, pulling the attention back to himself. “What the hell is going on, Braden?”
7
MAKING A TRADE
LOTTIE
When had Mr. Elliott turned into such an asshole? She’d had a feeling he wouldn’t be happy about her lying to the front-desk girl, but she hadn’t expected him to literally accuse her of leeching off her dad. Tears burned in her throat as the scene played over and over in her mind. It wasn’t fair, especially when the only reason she was doing any of this was to help her dad.
Not that she was going to tell him any of that, especially after what he’d just said to her. The sting still hadn’t faded, and being scolded like a naughty little girl by Master O hadn’t helped. The childhood nickname Mr. Elliott had pulled out of nowhere had mollified her a bit, but she was still feeling hurt and sulky as the men talked about the auction.
“I don’t fucking know,” Mr. Elliott said, frustration clear in his voice. “I just learned about the auction a few weeks ago, and that whoever is running it has been using my club to try and make it seem more legitimate.”
