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Jenna announced the winner of the Lucas Ainswright signed Saints’ shirt with a bid of $500, and the winner of a $4000 bid for a VIP pamper weekend. Now that one I would have been prepared to share with The Russian, the caring-sharing girl I am.
Jenna worked through the other prizes – dinner for two, a trip to Hawaii for a family which went for $8000 to one of our sponsors, a Suns framed and signed winning grand final photo, a month worth of physio from Carlo, until she came to the last lot. I began to wonder if The Russian had actually won his bid since he wouldn’t tell me which one he had bid for, and now we were at the end of the auction.
“Now for our major auction item,” Jenna continued. “Ten VIP seats front row courtside at our end-of-season game and now tribute game featuring Suns’ star Carla Brooker, along with VIP catering before, during and after the match and an open bar. Valued at $4000, we have a winning bid of ...” Jenna stopped and gasped. She showed the envelope to Maria our Marketing Manager who read it and nodded, a look of shock on her face.
Jenna cleared her throat and returned to the microphone. “Sorry for that, I just had to check I wasn’t seeing too many zeroes. Valued at $4000, the winning bid for the VIP package is TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!” she yelled it out.
The room went ballistic with people gasping and cheering. Jenna accepted a piece of paper from Maria and read it out.
“That brings our fundraising efforts from tonight’s silent auction to $65,000.” Again the cheering continued. “And the VIP lot was bought by Alex Renwick. Where are you Alex?”
Everyone looked around except for a few who recognized or remembered The Russian’s real name. I caught Jenna’s eye and nodded to The Russian.
“Or you might know him as The Russian.” Maria came over and gave him his prize voucher. The Russian was trying to keep a low profile behind me; he thanked her and tucked it inside his tuxedo.
“Enjoy your dessert and more dancing,” Jenna called over the crowd noise, and left the stage.
I swung around to face The Russian with a big grin on my face.
“Do you even have ten friends?” I teased him.
The Russian laughed. “I’m sure I can rustle up enough people to fill the seats or rent some friends.”
I touched his face. “Thank you. It’s turned out to be a very expensive night for you.”
“You’re welcome Brooker,” he said, taking my hand from his cheek and kissing inside my palm. I was so gone. It was nearing midnight and The Russian had put in a valiant effort.
“Want to get out of here?” I asked.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.
“I’m good to go.”
He rose and I grabbed my clutch bag, and we said goodbye to the people remaining at our table. I waved to a few of my friends, including Aimee who was on the dance floor with some of the girls.
We got outside and The Russian opened the car door for me and I slipped in. He came around to his side, slid in and started the car. We turned out of the grounds, still subject to a barrage of flashes, and headed to my house.
Here came the sticky bit – to invite him in and risk rejection or not to invite him in. Don’t get me wrong I wanted to bed The Russian more than I wanted oxygen at the moment, but I’d never slept with a guy on the first date and technically it was a first date.
If I never saw him again, then I wanted to have sex – it would top off the perfect night and be a night I’d never forget. I was going to be in pain anyway that it had just been that one night, so might as well go the full morose than the half morose. However, if there was a chance he might ask me out again, then I didn’t want to have sex because I wanted us to build to that. I wanted a relationship, not a fling. So tough.
“You’re quiet, are you okay?” he asked.
I looked over at the gorgeous man driving me home.
“Is that your way of asking what I’m thinking?” I eyed him suspiciously.
He gave me a smile.
“Okay, caught out. What are you thinking?” he asked.
I sighed. “I’m thinking I had the most perfect night ever and thank you for making it so, and not a tearful night as I expected.”
He gave me a smile. “It was fun ... your friends are great girls, especially Aimee, she’s direct isn’t she?”
“Oh God, what did she ask you?”
“I can’t repeat it,” he teased. “It’s all good, she’s a bit of fun and so was your coach ... an impressive lady.” He pulled up outside my apartment block and turned the car off. Well, that answered that question. Again he was at my door offering his hand before I got out. So charming.
