Page 53 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“The auction idea is good,” he said. “I want to move on it.”

“Good. You should.”

“I’m going to need your help,” he said. “Can I call you?”

“Sure.”

He kissed me before I could think of a reason not to let him. When he pulled back, his thumb traced a line along my jaw.

“Goodnight, Victoria,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

I got in the car and drove home in a complete fog of leftover lust. The man had rocked my world like no one had ever done before. I probably shouldn’t have been driving. My brain was entirely occupied elsewhere.

It’s too fast. I know it’s too fast and my sense of self-preservation is throwing up red flags. Caution lights. I knew deep in my soul he was the kind of man I could love, but I also knew he could destroy me. He made me feel safe and cared for and that was dangerous. I had been fighting for my independence for years. Did I really want to jump back into that world? It was so hard to leave the first time. I didn’t know if I could do it again.

At least not with my heart intact.

19

CALLUM

She showed up with her canvas tote over one shoulder and her hair loose. I stood at the front door and watched her walk up. When I had texted her the invitation to come over for dinner, I didn’t think she would. Last night when I walked her to her car, I felt a shift. Not huge, but I could feel her pulling back. I figured it was probably because I had just bent her over a couch. I hadn’t planned on doing any of that, but damn, I couldn’t not do it. I had to have her.

I stepped back and gestured for her to walk in. All day I’d been lecturing myself. Do not fuck her against the door and don’t bend her over the couch. Definitely don’t spread her out on the center island.

I would behave.

She followed me through the living room and into the dining room where I had my laptop set up. I invited her over because we were going to be working on the charity runway idea. To pitch the idea to my aunt and cousins, I wanted to get organized first.

But I was also going to serve Victoria a real meal that didn’t come out of a paper bag.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked. “I was going to make myself a vodka soda.”

“Sure,” she said. She unpacked her bag and sat down. I made us drinks and carried them to the table. “Okay. Walk me through what you have.”

I started talking through the framework I’d sketched out the night before. The runway structure, the auction component. She listened and made small notes in the margins of her own pages.

“Are you sure I need to be there for the pitch?” she asked. “I think this is more your thing.”

“You explain it so much better,” I said. “And if they have questions about the charity side of things, I’ll be looking to you for answers.”

“But that’s your world. Your family.”

“Chairty is your world.”

We continued talking, ironing out the details and creating a pitch I knew was going to sell the plan. Not that it needed a lot of selling. It was a good idea and I knew Mimi was going to be all over it. We just needed to show them it would work.

“I think they might even consider making it an annual thing,” I said.

“You could pick a different charity for every season,” she said.

“See! This is why I need you. You have all the ideas.”

She laughed.

We worked for another hour before I closed my laptop. “I’ll start dinner.”