Page 1 of Auctioned To Be Mine

1

CALLUM

My brother and I pulled up to the curb in front of the expensive restaurant where I was about to have a date. Dread filled me at the prospect of walking in there, and I considered driving away.

The valet moved toward my car, unaware of my inner battle, and bent over so he could speak to me through my open window. He had a face full of pimples and precisely eight beard hairs.

“Would you like me to park your car for you, sir?”

I studied him. How old was this kid? He must have been the restaurant owner’s son to justify letting him get behind the wheel of such luxury and speed. Not a business risk I’d take, but hey, to each their own.

“Give me a few,” I told him.

My brother Drew sat in the passenger seat scrolling on his phone. He was the second oldest child in the family, with me being first, but sometimes the age gap felt a lot longer than two years. It was probably the mischievous smile on his face, like he never took anything seriously. “He’s going to put a dent in it for sure.”

The kid overheard and sulked back to his spot at the podium, guarding all the other restaurant guests’ keys.

Drew chuckled and held his phone out to me. “Your date hasn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw her.” His pitch rose with amusement that he tried to conceal with a cough. “Chantilly Giles is an influencer now? Isn’t her father too rich for her to be in the business of instant gratification and doom scrolling?”

Leaning over, I peered at a video she had posted to her socials a couple days ago. It showed her berating a server and demanding free food. Otherwise she would put the restaurant on blast. I cringed.

Chantilly’s parents were friends of the family, and my brothers and I had seen them all occasionally. Mostly banquets, fundraisers, galas, that sort of thing. I’d never had a conversation with her that inspired anything other than boredom and the white-hot desire to escape. Her dad and ours got along well enough, and I had to wonder if Dad owed her family a favor or something, and that’s why I’d been sent to “court” her.

Tonight, that desire to run was making my palms itch.

Drew scrolled to the next video. Chantilly stood in front of a wall mural, criticizing the artwork right in front of the artist himself. He stood in stony silence while she shared her wisdom about his color choices and “heavy-handed strokes.” Like she knew what the hell she was talking about.

Drew shot me a sympathetic glance. “This is rough, man. She’s insufferable.”

“She’s going to fly too close to the sun one day and get burned.”

“At least our old man made sure we knew the value of hard work and a dollar.” Drew locked his phone and slid it in his pocket. “Can you imagine if we’d turned out like her?”

Drew was right. Dad raised us with some old-fashioned work ethic, discipline, and a relentless drive to blaze our own trails in the world. Which, perhaps, had backfired because none of his sons or our sister, Cleo, had decided to follow in his footsteps and pursue work in the movie industry. But at least none of us turned out like Chantilly.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” I said.

“Dude, you’re fine. This is an easy plan. Trust me.”

“What’s stopping you from leaving me to my fate in there and laughing the entire time while you’re safe in the car?”

Drew shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to have a little faith.”

Faith. Sure. The only thing I had faith in was that this whole evening was going to be a waste of time, and Chantilly’s personality would send me spinning off a ledge. The woman was a spoiled and entitled trust-fund brat who used her good looks and family name to get whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, from whoever she wanted.

The staff at the restaurant had no idea what kind of unholy hell was about to rain down on them.

Drew nudged me with his elbow. “Time to go.”

A groan escaped me and I hung my head. “I’ve got another minute.”

Drew laughed. “Don’t be a chicken shit. She may be a brat, but she’s just a girl, and you’re a Blackwell. Maybe she’ll appreciate that you’re slumming it with her and she’ll act right.”

I stared blankly at him.

Drew held up both hands. “Okay, okay, fine. She’s going to be lame as fuck. But when the night is over, you and I are going to have a lot to laugh about. Now get out there and hit her with your best smile so she won’t claim you sabotaged things from the jump. Dad will be livid if he thinks you tanked this on purpose.”

“Keep an eye out for my text. If you ghost me…” I trailed off, fixing Drew with a stare and silent threat.