It killed me watching the hairdresser cut off the dreads I’ve been growing since I was thirteen. It was even more painful than getting me into this tuxedo, but when an anonymous bidder offers three million dollars to cut them off, I’ll cut them off. I can grow back my dreads, and that amount of money will greatly benefit families suffering through what my family went through. It also means people won’t have to struggle like Kylie did when she went into remission.
With my approval, my mom made some changes to Serena’s foundation the past three months. Now we don’t just help people suffering from ALL, we also support the survivors, the people like Kylie, who are left unemployable because they can’t get adequate health coverage.
It pissed me off when I found out what happened to Kylie. She still faced the fight of her life after she went into remission. That’s fucking bullshit. No one should endure that, so when I had an opportunity to add an additional three million dollars to the ten million Rise Up contributes each year, I jumped at the chance. That amount of money will give our new campaign a massive boost.
“Someone placed a bid of three million dollars for me to cut them off.”
Kylie’s mouth pops open. “Holy crap. I don’t think the measly four hundred dollars I saved for the auction will cut it.”
Her amount is only skimpy because last week she paid me back the one thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-three dollars my phone said she owed me. When she forced me to take her money, I donated it to Serena’s foundation in her name. She then requested to know how much rent an apartment like mine would fetch, so she could pay her share. I probably shouldn’t have laughed at her expression when I said her half would cost over fifteen thousand a month, but her shock was too adorable to ignore.
After calming her down the best way I know how—sexually—we negotiated terms that suited us both.
“Bid on anything you want, then you can pay me back.” I press my lips to the shell of her ear. “You just have to pay me like you do for your rent. Deal?”
Her breath turns ragged as her glowing eyes dance between mine. After not even two seconds of deliberating, she nods. I may have negotiated to add extra items to her bucket list in exchange for free rent. My requests were eerily similar to the ones Melanie added seven months ago.
“Then let’s get this party over with so I can see what you look like underneath that dress.”
Kylie giggles before slipping her hand into the one I’m holding open for her. As we weave through the dense crowd, we gain the admiring eyes of many.
“They’re all as shocked by your haircut as I was,” Kylie murmurs halfway across the ballroom, wrongly believing people are gawking at me because they recognize me.
That isn’t what is happening. They’re staring at us because she’s so incredibly beautiful, they can’t help but look. How do I know this? Kylie didn’t recognize me with my new haircut, so there’s no chance in hell a bunch of snooty millionaires would recognize me. My dreads made me easily recognizable, but now they’re gone, and I’m wearing a tuxedo and a mask—I’m completely incognito. I’d love the anonymity if I didn’t feel so naked without my dreads.
I tug Kylie to my side, wordlessly warning every guy in this room that she’s taken. A few get the hint and look away, but a good handful need a stern finger point to get the hint. I really wish she'd wear the diamond engagement ring I bought her. We’re not engaged. I just want her to wear it so the roadies will back the fuck off. They still see her as bait since she doesn’t have a ring on her finger, but she refuses to wear the ring I purchased. She said until we’re engaged she won’t wear any ring, not even one that cost me millions of dollars.
* * *
By the time the auction starts, Kylie has a few glasses of wine under her belt, making her bids more daring than normal. “Four thousand dollars.”
She stops waving her number sixty-nine paddle in the air when the gentleman bidding against her raises his bid to five thousand dollars.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Kylie announces without hesitation.
I’m not bothered by her high bid. All the money raised from the sale of my signed drum kit goes to Serena’s foundation, and I’m more than happy for Kylie to owe me a fortune in sexual favors. I’m secretly hoping to add a few more digits to her tally.
When the man fails to immediately counterbid, Kylie arches her brow at him, goading him to bid again. From this distance, I have no clue who he is, but his pricy dark blue tuxedo and black feathered mask scream money.
The crowd gasps when the gentleman counterbids to twenty thousand dollars. When Kylie turns to face me, people think she’s discussing a possible bid increase. In reality, she’s scheming. “I think I can get him to go higher.”
“Then do what you need to do.”
I trust her. She can read people a mile away, so I’m confident she has this sucker by the throat.
With a wide smile, loving my lack of worry, Kylie shifts on her feet to face the auctioneer. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
I choke on my spit. I wasn’t expecting for her to bidthathigh, but I’m so fucking glad she did. My cock stiffens just thinking about all the fun things I can add to her list for that amount of money.
As Kylie stares down the man across the room, she fans her cheeks with her bidding paddle, acting nonchalant. Her cool, calm composure cracks the more the room falls into silence. It appears as if her sucker radar is a little askew tonight—thank fuck!
My cock softens when the tuxedo-clad gent counterbids, “One hundred ten thousand dollars.”
Kylie tries to mask her excitement. She does a terrible job. “I love you, but I don’t love youthatmuch.”
The auction attendees eyeballing us from afar chuckle loudly, believing I’ve been left disappointed. I have been, but not in the way they’re thinking.
When the auctioneer taps his gavel on the podium, Kylie pouts before slinging her arms around my neck. “Sucker.”
