Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

Chapter 1

1

PORTIA

T he grand ballroom smelled like cheese and steak frites. Not exactly my definition of fancy, especially after all the glitzy work events I’d attended in New York City earlier this year. Now those were fancy, pulling out all the stops with gourmet caterers, crystal stemware, and famous designers from Los Angeles. But this ?

This had to be the seventh circle of hell.

“Ladies, this is your night!” The emcee’s voice carried through the packed room, his punchy baritone reminding me of announcers hosting fair games in community parking lots. Apparently, I was the only one who felt that way because all heads in the ballroom swiveled to look at the emcee on stage. He beamed, his enthusiasm for the evening twinkling in his eyes, and when he fanned his hands out wide, I could have sworn he wiggled his fingers. Jazz hands. The grown man made jazz hands.

“We’ve got them tall, short, young, and old,” he boomed. “Refined and a few rowdy ones, but don’t worry, they only bite if you ask!”

Ew.

The Larkspur Lake Charity Gala was the embodiment of why I left to pursue my dreams in New York to begin with—too stuffy, too pretentious, too small town .

But Alexis had insisted, and when Alexis insists, you don’t argue. She’d shown up at the Airbnb I was renting, a bottle of wine in one hand and a sequined dress in the other, and gleefully declared, “You’re coming, and you’re not allowed to say no.”

So here I was, standing in the grand ballroom of the lakeside estate, feeling like a fish out of water while beside me my best friend grinned as big as the emcee. The room was a sea of glittering dresses and pressed suits, permed hairdos, old bowties, and polished shoes.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, a borrowed number from Alexis that was a little too tight and a lot too sparkly. If I bent over, I was going to flash my hooha . I never should have left my rental in this scratchy monstrosity. I grumbled about the sequins scratching my underarms and getting caught in the hair at the nape of my neck. I never would have been caught dead in a dress like this in New York. Oh, how low I had fallen.

Alexis shot me a sidelong glance as I scratched at my armpit like I had lice growing there. “Let’s get a drink.”

“More like twenty,” I said. “I can’t believe you dragged me here. And in this torture device.” As we walked, I continuously tugged at the hemline of the dress, pleading with every tug for it to stay in place.

“Oh, stop,” she chided. “Don’t act like you’re too good for our small-town fun. Besides, you have killer legs and you should show them off.”

Small-town fun. Was there even such a thing? From where I was standing, this night was lunacy. An auction for charity—and the items being auctioned off? Grown men. I wasn’t sure what was worse, the outdated ballroom, the even more outdated formalwear, or the reality of why we were all here: to bid on men like desperate old biddies buying cardigans on cable shopping networks.

I couldn’t fathom the level of buyer’s remorse some of the women in this room were bound to feel when their night with the bachelor they “purchased” came to a close.

I groaned. “Why don’t I go home, and you tell me who bought who at this stupid auction?”

She linked her arm with mine and steered me toward the bar. “Come on, New York. Loosen up. It’s for a good cause.”

“Renting a dude for a night feels very weird,” I said.

“It’s a win-win.” Alexis winked. “We get entertainment, and the children’s hospital gets a bunch of money. You don’t have to buy a man for the night. You’re just here to watch these women stumble over themselves to try and get one of the bachelors.”

I accepted a flute of champagne and took a long sip. The bubbles tickled my nose. Watching the crowd, I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Was this what passed for excitement in Larkspur Lake these days? A bunch of women fighting over men like they were the last Prada bags at a sample sale?

“Remind me, how did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because you love me and you secretly missed me like crazy,” Alexis said, feigning an exaggerated pout then breaking into a grin.

She wasn’t completely wrong. Despite everything—despite why I’d left this town in the first place—there was a part of me that missed it. Or maybe it just missed having someone like Alexis, who was refreshingly unfiltered and relentlessly optimistic. I’d always believed the world would be a better place if everyone was more like her.

But I’d missed more than just my best friend. I’d longed for the slow leisurely mornings that didn’t exist in New York. I’d ached for the way spring smelled here and for the beach, the quiet, and my parents.

“I think you just need to get laid.”

My drink almost sprayed from my mouth. “Oh my god! Alexis!” I looked around quickly, hoping nobody overheard. “Keep your voice down!”

She shrugged innocently, scanning the room with sharp eyes. Her energy was infectious, if not a little obnoxious. I didn’t want to know what she was looking for. Hopefully not an eligible suitor for yours truly. I hated to think what sort of one-liner she’d use to lure a man into my orbit. An orbit I would toss him out of in short order.

I felt eyes on me and looked up. A couple of women were trying to act like they weren’t looking at me.

Keyword trying .

This was nothing new. Since I’d come back home, people were talking, as people in small towns do. For the most part I could ignore it. But here, in the confines of the ballroom where whispers seemed to bounce off the walls and slither right into my ear canals, it was impossible to ignore them.

“Portia Hart, back in Larkspur Lake,” someone murmured behind me, their tone dripping with curiosity and judgment. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t need to. I knew what they were thinking. The girl who left to conquer the world, only to come crawling back with her tail between her legs.

“Ignore them,” Alexis said. “They’re just jealous because you actually had the guts to leave this place.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out.”

Alexis squeezed my arm. “Stop it. You’re not a failure. You’re just… regrouping. Everyone hits a rough patch. Home is your touchstone.”

Alexis had this effortless way of making everything sound like poetry. Like it was supposed to be the way it was. But me being back here was anything but how it was supposed to be.

“Easy for you to say,” I said. “You didn’t come back to your hometown with nothing to show for it.”

“You don’t have nothing ,” Alexis argued. “You’ve got experience, connections, and a killer work ethic. So what if your real estate business didn’t take off? You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

I wanted to believe her, but the weight of my failures was a heavy burden to carry. I’d left Larkspur Lake six years ago with big dreams and even bigger ambitions. I was going to make it in the city, become a luxury real estate agent to the stars, and never look back. But the city had chewed me up and spit me out, leaving me with nothing but a mountain of debt and a bruised ego. Coming back to Larkspur Lake had felt like admitting defeat, and I hated it.

I did not like humble pie. It was bitter. Chewy. Hard to swallow.

“Besides,” Alexis continued, “you’re not the only one who’s had a rough go of it. Remember Jodi Jenkins? She got divorced last year, and now she’s living with her parents. And don’t even get me started on Mark Thompson. He’s on his third failed business venture.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I don’t think comparing myself to other people’s failures is the healthiest way to cope.”

Alexis grinned. “Hey, whatever works. Now, come on. Let’s scope out the bachelors. You never know—maybe you’ll find your next great love tonight.”

I rolled my eyes but let her drag me into the crowd. The charity gala was famous for its bachelor auction, where local single men were auctioned off for dates, with the proceeds going to charity. The auction was almost as old as I was. I had never actually attended one before. Mostly because I didn’t have the kind of money it took to buy one of the guys. It was all in good fun, but the idea of bidding on a man felt ridiculous. Events like these were for members of the country club who had fat bank accounts—not for little nobodies like Alexis and me.

Alexis swirled her champagne and nodded across the room, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay, so that guy over there? The one in the navy suit? He’s a doctor. Super nice, but a little boring. And that one?” She pointed discreetly to a man with a beard and a leather jacket. “He’s a musician. Total bad-boy vibes, but I heard he’s still hung up on his ex. Whomp, whomp.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you know all this how?”

Alexis shrugged. “Small town, remember? Everyone knows everyone’s business.”

“Who are you bidding on?” I asked.

She scoffed. “Like I can afford this. Look around at the money we’re surrounded by. Mrs. Lowe over there is fresh off a divorce and let me tell you, she scored big in the settlement, and I doubt there’s a better way she can stick it to old man Lowe than spending his cash on one night with one of those bachelors.”

I laughed and took another sip of my champagne. Okay. Fine. She had me intrigued. “Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at a blonde woman that looked like she’d fallen into a vat of spray tan.

“That is Lauren Peyton,” Alexis said with a wicked grin. “The town’s former queen bee. You remember her.”

I raised an eyebrow, watching Lauren gesticulate animatedly to a group of women around her. My stomach did a weird flip-flop. The idea of bumping into her tonight made me want to hide behind a potted plant.

“I thought she would have married rich and ended up in some seaside mansion,” I muttered.

As if sensing we were talking about her, Lauren glanced over and locked eyes with me. Her surprise morphed into a wide, gleaming smile that was as fake as her skin tone. She started toward us like a heat-seeking missile, and I braced myself for impact and collateral damage.

“Portia!” she squealed, pulling me into an overly enthusiastic hug that reeked of Hawaiian Tropic. “I almost didn’t recognize you! Look at you! Still so… city chic!”

“Lauren,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “It’s been forever.”

“It has!” She stepped back, holding me at arm’s length as if inspecting me for wear and tear. “We need to catch up. You have to tell me everything. Are you back for good?”

“Oh,” I said casually, smiling through the heat that burned my cheeks. “For now.”

“Well, we’re so glad to have you back.” Lauren’s eyes twinkled, but not with genuine happiness at my return. No. They sparkled the way my old cat—RIP sweet Catrick Swayze, gone too soon—looked at the red dot of a laser pointer.

I was about to compliment Lauren’s dress in an attempt to diffuse whatever this weird tension was between us, but she spoke first.

“I need to talk to the mayor,” Lauren said. “We’re working on a little something.”

Clearly, she wanted to sound important. I offered a tight smile and watched her go, her hips swaying dramatically, the length of her dress grazing the floor behind her. Minus the tan, I had to give it to her—she looked pretty good.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the part of the night you’ve been waiting for!” The emcee’s voice rang through the sound system.

I’d almost forgotten about the auction, but Alexis certainly hadn’t. She clenched her fists and held them in front of her face as she let out a little squeal. I adjusted the hem of my dress for the hundredth time and hoped this part was over with quickly so I could go back to my rental, put some sort of cream on my sequin-chafed skin, and slip into my comfortable bed.

“Get your checkbooks out and prepare to feast your eyes on the bachelors we have on the auctioning block tonight! Get a good seat, ladies. You’re going to want to get a good look at these hot items.”

Alexis grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the front, directly in front of the stage. One by one, the bachelors were introduced, each one more eager than the last to charm the crowd. They came out, strutting, flexing, and doing their best to look sexy.

The emcee announced that bidding was open for the first bachelor, and the ballroom exploded into a chorus of female voices placing their bids one after the other. Alexis grinned like the devil while I tipped my head back and drained the rest of my champagne. I would need a buzz to get through the homestretch of the night.

A waiter walked by with a tray of filled champagne flutes. I reached out and grabbed one. By the time the third bachelor found himself sweating under the main spotlight on stage, mild amusement had overpowered my irritation over the whole evening. The champagne had done its job.

“Ladies, they say we save the best for last, and boy, do we have a treat for you!”

Screams like they were fifteen-year-olds at a Justin Bieber concert ripped through the air. I flinched and looked around while Alexis elbowed me in the ribs.

“Here’s the cherry on top.” She giggled. “ Look. ”

I shook my head and took another drink.

“Dean Jackson. Get your butt up here!”

The contents in my mouth abruptly spilled right back into my glass. It couldn’t be. I looked up, dabbing at my lips, and froze.

Dean strode onto the stage, his broad shoulders filling out his suit in a way that should have been illegal. His dark hair was slightly tousled and too long to be respectable. He looked like he was walking into a lineup instead of an auction block. Unlike the other men, who had smiled and waved at the crowd, Dean looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He assumed his place and crossed his arms over his chest, his hard stare burning into the crowd. He barely acknowledged the audience as the auctioneer began the bidding.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. Someone’s not thrilled to be here.”

Alexis smirked. “That’s Dean Jackson. He’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“He’s kind of a lone wolf. Doesn’t really do the whole social scene. I don’t think I’ve seen him in a suit before. Like ever. Someone must have some good blackmail on him.”

“Blackmailed into the auction?”

“He’s not exactly the type to say no to charity,” she said.

I watched as the bidding began, expecting it to fizzle out quickly given Dean’s obvious reluctance. But to my surprise, the opposite happened. Women started throwing down money like they were betting on a championship fight. The bids climbed higher and higher, and Dean’s scowl deepened with each one.

I shook my head in disbelief. “What is wrong with these women? He looks like he could be that guy that offers you a ride and you just know you shouldn’t get in the car.”

Alexis laughed. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t see the appeal. Just look at him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s also clearly not interested. I don’t get why anyone would want to bid on someone who’s made it abundantly clear they don’t want to be here.”

As if on cue, I spotted one of the most aggressive bidders—a woman I recognized from high school. Jessica something-or-other. She’d always been one of those girls who thrived on making others feel small—especially me. Seeing her now, waving her hand with a smug smile on her face, made my blood boil.

“Ugh, Jessica,” I muttered under my breath. “Of course she’s all over this.”

Alexis followed my gaze and grimaced. “Yeah, she’s been on the hunt for a husband for years. Poor Dean doesn’t stand a chance. She’s been trying to sink her claws into him for a while.”

Something about the whole scene irritated me more than it should have. I just wanted the night to be over. I took another big drink from my glass.

Once again, the bubbles threatened to make me sneeze. I managed to hold it in with just a little squeak.

That was when he looked at me. Our eyes locked. His piercing blue gaze pinned me with an invisible force. I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t look away. He was hypnotizing me with those baby blues.

And this wasn’t the first time I’d stared into them before.