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CARM
Enzo returns to the table a short while later. That was weird. I’m not really sure why he left like that, but I suspect that it had something to do with what he said earlier today at the race.
There’s no judgment on my part. I know I’d lose my fucking mind if Bella told me she was sick. I don’t know how Enzo managed to keep it together when everything went down.
“All good?” I ask when Enzo takes his seat.
He nods and reaches for his drink. All right, I’ll leave it alone.
We get through dinner, and all the women can talk about is this damn chef and his show. They all want to win the auction, so someone is going to be disappointed. I vow not to let it be Bella. I lost that fucking race to Enzo earlier today and I don’t plan to lose this auction to anyone. One loss in a day is good enough for me. I may be a little bit competitive.
Bella has barely touched her dinner, and when the Mille-feuille with roast strawberries and mascarpone arrives at the table and she waves off the waiter putting a plate down in front of her, I know I need to figure out what’s going on. That’s been her favorite dessert since we traveled around France on our honeymoon. There’s no way she’d ever turn it away.
I take her hand. “You’ve barely eaten anything all night.”
She shrugs. “I’m just not hungry. My tummy is a little off today.”
I study her for a moment, my forehead creased, trying to get a read on whether she’s telling me the whole story. My gut tells me she isn’t, but that maybe this isn’t the place to push her—at a table full of family members.
“If you say so. Let me know if you need anything though, okay?”
She places a hand on my cheek. “When do I ever fail to ask for what I want?”
I grin at her. “True, you can be demanding. Especially in the bedroom.” I wink and give her a chaste kiss.
After dessert, the auction begins. They raise a lot of money with the first handful of items. The crowd here tonight is not playing, and they’ve all got deep pockets. It’s going to be painful for me to shell out the kind of cash I think I’m going to need to in order to take my wife on some getaway with a TV chef she’s lusting over, but I love my wife. If this is what she wants, I’m going to make it happen for her.
Finally, the time comes for the auctioneer to auction off The Ultimate Chef experience.
“No hard feelings when I take this one, right?” I say.
Enzo just shakes his head, and Dom grins as though I’m naïve. I might be. Dom has more money than all of us and that’s saying something. Plus who the hell knows who else plans to bid on this thing?
Bidding starts off low and neither my brothers nor I step into the fray. Obviously we have similar strategies—let the other people bid and see how far up they drive up the price before we throw our paddles in the ring.
Finally the price seems to stall out at eighty thousand dollars and the auctioneer counts down. “Going once, twice—”
Dom raises his paddle.
“Ninety thousand to the gentleman in the back.”
No way I’m letting him take this. I raise my paddle.
“One hundred thousand to the gentleman across the table from him.”
Enzo raises his paddle.
All the wives watch with rapt attention. I know they each want their husband to win but don’t want to actively cheer for them since it would be like cheering against their sisters-in-law.
Within a couple minutes, we’ve run the bidding up to two hundred ten thousand dollars. All the other bidders have dropped out of the running and it’s just my brothers and me now. Sweat builds around my collar the higher the price goes.
It’s not that I don’t have the money—I do—but no matter how you look at it, that’s a shit ton of money for what amounts to a three-day vacation. Still, my chest burns to come out on top.
Dom raises his paddle again.
“Two hundred twenty thousand dollars,” the auctioneer says. “Do I hear two hundred thirty?”
I raise my paddle out of instinct, my competitive nature making it not even a question whether I’ll outbid Dom or not. Then Dom raises his paddle again.
