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And the part of my plan I haven’t entirely worked out is how I’m going to get him to bid only on me. That’s left to chance and is already going sideways. Why would such a wealthy, handsome male pick me when he could pick someone amazing like Taylor, or any of these other girls? Also, I don’t want any of these young women harmed by being part of the criminality surrounding Derwen Tusk. They need to be out there, being bid on by actual billionaires who want them. I want them to still receive their life-changing payouts tonight, which they need and deserve. It would be evil of me to get in the way of that—I only want to get in the way of Mr. Tusk getting scammed.
How am I going to make sure Mr. Tusk waits for me now that I’m dead last?
This all seemed like such a good plan when I was at home in my sweats, thinking this through on my tablet. But now that I’m here my palms are sweating because it’s starting to seem like the silliest idea ever.
What have I gotten myself into?
I don’t know shit about dressing sexy, but I did try my best.
I’m wearing skimpy Barbiecore lingerie with cream lace accents and nude, nearly invisible high heels. My boobs aren’t so big, and I don’t have the perfectly curved ass that lots of these girls have. I’m more of the tall, slim-hipped type. And I’m seriously wishing I’d had the foresight to get a full body spray tan. Usually, I work from home in comfy sweats and don’t get out much. I prefer to hide in big clothes. But tonight, I’m baring a whole lot of skin and trying my best to walk around in impossibly high heels. I even went through the bother of getting a trendy gel mani/pedi. And I shavedeverywhere, just in case, and gave myself a very narrow trim down there. That’s when you know I’m serious.
And I’m not wearing my prescription glasses, which isn’t a good thing. My vision is seriously fuzzy. I had laser eye surgery when I was a baby to correct future blindness, but I still need contacts because my vision isn’t by any means perfect. My eyes feel too sensitive for contacts, so I prefer glasses at this point in life. But I took them off tonight to try and up the “sexy factor” of my appearance.
Hopefully it’s working.
All of this for Mr. Tusk.
I did use my real name for this auction. So there’s the possibility he’ll realize who I am from the bios and purchase me just out of curiosity or a sense of duty. Or even righteous anger that his assistant is here? Whatever, the reason doesn’t matter to me. I’m only interested in him buying me and then I can just give him the million dollars back. And I’ll know he’s safe because this is what really matters.
“I heard there’s an alien in the audience tonight,” someone says from further up the line.
I turn around. “No way,” I respond, like I’ve never thought of this possibility. “An alien? Are you sure?”
A blonde girl next to Taylor frowns. “I heard there were going to be shifters bidding tonight but an alien, that sounds…weird. It’s got to be one of those Voltare,” she sniffs.
I purse my lips. “I’ve heard the Voltare are nice.”
“Grizzly shifters are better,” Taylor answers brightly.
I chuckle.
“The auction begins,” St. James shouts.
Suddenly it’s all business backstage, attendants move about and herd us into our correct spots. I peek out from the curtain behind the stage, hoping to get a visual on Mr. Tusk, but I can’t see clearly due to my lack of glasses and the darkened audience. Darn it. Out there are a large group of very rich men who are paying for a night with a gorgeous virgin. It makes me wonder what their stories are. Why are they here?
Hmm. I pull out my fancy Voltare glass tablet from my purse and send Mr. Tusk a quick message, curious to see if he’ll respond.Re: U.N. trade commission meeting. Date and time for next week is confirmed.
Mr. Tusk immediately replies.Thank you Miss Harper. I appreciate your prompt attention in this matter.
And I can see his location is right here.
A big smile widens across my face. I put away my tablet and set the purse back. Nervous butterflies enter my stomach because all I can do is wait and hope he doesn’t bid on anyone else. There’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening.
The first girl goes on and struts down the runway to the beat of the music and I watch with bated breath as she gets a bid of one million. We all clap for her. It’s a silent auction so I have no idea who is bidding. I sigh with relief when a man wearing jeans and a cowboy hat takes her hand. Then the next two girls get bids of five million each, as well as instant weddings with shifters. Oh wow.
And now I’m getting nervous. I thought this was literally a million-dollar auction. I’m being paid a million dollars and I thought that’s what the filthy rich men out there were going to bid: around a million…well, shoot that wasn’t smart thinking on my part. Where’s the profit in that for the auction house? Of course the bids for the auction would be unlimited. No wonder the criminals wanted Mr. Tusk to come here, because the amount of money being exchanged, that they could steal for themselves, will be huge.
Apparently, I suck at undercover espionage work. Good thing I don’t work for law enforcement. I would’ve been fired long ago.
Seven more girls go on and each time my stomach is in knots, worried that the male who will take their hand at the end will be my handsome boss, Mr. Tusk. And then what will I do? But each time it’s some other man. This is so freaking stressful. I’m handed another glass of champagne which I gratefully accept.
“Taylor Brown,” Coco calls out.
I squeeze Taylor’s hand and then she goes on. I watch closely because I want only good outcomes for my new friend. She struts onstage to the loud music with the confidence and star power of a Broadway star. She’s amazing. I can’t keep my eyes off her dazzling moves and glorious figure and I’m not even bidding.
The bids start high and gets very cutthroat and my friend receives a huge winning bid of ten million dollars and a wedding on the spot from a huge grizzly shifter.
I whistle and shout “hell yeah” from behind the curtain because I can’t contain myself.
