The worst part?
He has the audacity to smirk.
Ben just lifts his glass toward me in a silent toast.
Smug. Smug. Smug.
I am going to murder him.
***
I grip the edge of the podium so hard my knuckles ache, my stomach still flipping like I’m in free fall.
Ten thousand pounds.
For an evening with me.
Or at least, that’s what the entire room is whispering about. Never mind that it’s supposed to be a workshop, a business experience. No. Ben Ashcroft had to go and make it look like I was some sort of high-priced date.
The bastard.
The second the auctioneer moves on to the next item, Sophie tugs me off the stage, her grip like a vice. “What. The. Hell?” she whisper-yells, dragging me to the side of the ballroom.
“I don’t know!” I hiss back. “You think I planned for that?”
She whirls toward Willow and Olivia, who are already waiting, eyes wide, half in shock, half in pure, unfiltered amusement. Olivia shakes her head. “That was the single most unhinged power move I have ever seen.”
Willow exhales slowly, adjusting her dress. “It was kind of hot, though.”
I shoot her a glare.
Sophie folds her arms, glancing back toward Ben. “Well, if hisgoal was to make an entire room think you two have unresolved sexual tension, then congratulations, mission accomplished.”
My stomach twists.
Because we do have unresolved tension and now it’s a ten-thousand-pound disaster.
I open my mouth to respond when a deep, amused voice cuts in.
“So.”
We all turn.
Marcus. Looking every inch the intimidating businessman in his tux, sipping his whiskey with the cool, calculating gaze of a man who’s just been handed a puzzle he intends to solve.
That puzzle?
Ben Ashcroft.
“Where’s your admirer?” Marcus muses, cocking a brow.
“He’s not my admirer,” I grit out.
Marcus tilts his head. “No? He just dropped ten grand for a casual night of flower arranging?”
Willow hums. “Maybe he’s really passionate about floral design.”
I groan, pressing my fingers to my temple. “Will you all stop?”
