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“Your name, sir?”
Even this part of the auction is over the top. The production assistant goes to the highest bidder with a microphone and they have a fun conversation with Michael.
“Liam Salinger.”
I swear my heart misses a beat. I can’t see more than shadows beyond the blinding lights, but I try anyway.
“Mr. Salinger,” Michael says, which is a bit weird because he’s called every other bidder by their first name. “Tell me, do you have a particular interest in meteorology?”
A wave of laughter ripples through the ballroom.
“I’ve always been a fan of the weather,” Liam says. His voice is strangely soft, even though it’s echoing from the sound system. “Ignore it at your peril. I think Noah’s friends in the bible learned that the hard way.”
“Indeed,” Michael says, forced jollity lifting his tone. “So you’ll be waking up every morning to the beautiful Sophie.”
“To her forecasts, yes,” Liam corrects. “And I’m very much looking forward to them.”
“Let’s see what Sophie has to say.” Michael beckons me over. I lift my dress to avoid making a spectacular trip on stage and join him.
He smells of Sauvage and smarm.
“Congratulations, Sophie,” he says, not quite meeting my eye. “How excited are you to be sending forecasts to Mr. Salinger every morning?”
I take a deep breath. “Hugely excited,” I say, trying to ignore how weird my voice sounds through the speakers. I’m used to hearing it from the television, but I sound different here in this big room. “And I’d like to say a huge thank you to Mr. Salinger for donating so much money to such a wonderful cause. I’ll do my best to make the sun shine on him every day.”
The crowd laughs again, and Michael nods at me, which is my cue to leave the stage. I walk carefully down the steps, my satin dress still gathered in my hand. As soon as I reach the bottom I hear a voice.
“Sophie?”
I feel dizzy. I have to hold onto the back of a chair to stop myself from falling, before sliding my behind into the seat. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You look a little sick.
“No, no, I’m fine.” I don’t look up. Mostly because I don’t want him to see the pained look on my face. “Thank you for your bid. I appreciate it.”
“I wasn’t sure you would.” He shifts his feet. From my vantage point I get a close up of the beautifully soft leather brogues he’s wearing. I can’t begin to imagine how much they cost.
“Why not?” I ask, still studying his feet.
“Because you don’t like me.”
I blink. “That’s not true.”
“So why won’t you even look at me?” he asks me.
“I just…” I still can’t believe he spent all that money.
“Sophie, please look at me.” His voice is as soft as the leather of his shoes. And of course I look up. I’m not sure I could stop myself. It’s like he’s talking directly to my muscles, overriding my nervous system.
And when my eyes meet his I see genuine concern there.
“You don’t have to send me daily weather forecasts,” he tells me. “I just wanted to bid on something for the charity.”
“It’s a good charity,” I tell him.
“Yeah. That video at the start…” he trails off. “Anyway, they asked me to see you to sort out the details, but let’s call it quits.” He lifts a brow at me and goes to walk away.
I stand up. “Liam,” I call out to him. He stops mid walk and looks at me again.
