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The woman in front of me twists to face me, a grin on her lips. “Wish me luck.”
I nod. “Good luck.”
Minutes later, she goes up, and someone bids six million dollars on her. And before long, it’s my turn to step onto the stage. I swallow loudly to rein in my anxiety.
The announcer, wearing a silver mask, brings the mike to my mouth. “My name is Poppy Giles.” I laugh nervously at the audience’s attention on me.
The announcer brings the mike back to his mouth. “This your first time?”
I nod, timidly waving to the crowd.
Someone holds up their paddle, the number nine on it. “Three million dollars.”
A guy with the red mask that matches my dress holds up the number two. “Five million.”
His voice sounds oddly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Two and Nine got back and forth until the announcer bellows, “Going once, going twice. Sold to Number Two for ten million dollars.” Turning back to face me, he mutters, “He wants you to meet him at the bar, in the West Wing.”
I walk off the stage, heading to said bar. I can’t believe someone paid ten million dollars to go on a date with me.
I have so much I want to say to him, and ask him to be m—
I hear someone clear their throat. “Poppy.”
His voice slides over me like a warm blanket, making me acutely aware of his presence. My dumb-ass heart beats freely like a wild horse. I crave everything about this man.
I hold my head up like I’m the president of the country and attempt to control my primal needs.
“Jasper. You’re the one who bid on me?”
Of course he would have a membership here—he’s probably here all the time with the women he fucks. I turn around and face Jasper. The man knows how to wear a suit. His muscles fill out his suit, the material molding to his body. He has a diamond earring in his right ear and the mask he wears over his eyes matches the color of my dress—blood red. What a coincidence.
His presence sucks all the oxygen out of the room and his smile is radiant.
He nods. “Lake told me you would be here, and that you needed my help. You’re looking for a fake fiancé to get in good graces with your mother?”
I’m caught off guard.
I’m going to kill Lake when I see her. This man is the last person I want to ask, but what other choice do I have? I know him, and he’s not a complete stranger. Jasper Barrett has been inside me twice already but I’m not making it a habit. I don’t have to worry about him being a psychopath, and he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be.
“Dance with me.” His tone is husky.
Without giving me a chance to respond, he places his hand on my lower back and ushers me away from the bar and in the direction of the dance floor. I place my hand in his and we glide along the marble floor. I’m so grateful my mother made me take ballroom dancing when I was a teenager. My body meshes with his and it’s not a good idea. My body doesn’t know how to behave around him.
He leans down and whispers, “Marry me.” His words tickle my ear and I giggle.
Did he say what I think he just said? Did he ask me to marry him? I study his face as if he’s just told a funny joke, but his facial expression is as serious as a heart attack.
I stop for a few seconds, stare at him as if he grew three heads. “W-what?”
“Marry me.”
This isn’t the man I thought I knew. Jasper doesn’t go around proposing to people. Why on earth would he want to marry me? I can’t believe the commitment-phobe proposed to me.
Someone accidentally bumps into me, but I don’t bother turning around to see who it was. I’m still in shock from his question. Well, more of a statement than a question.
“Are you on drugs?”
