32. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
S ophie’s heart raced with a mix of awe and anxiety as she navigated through the labyrinth of silent auction tables, each more lavish than the last. She’d known the auction had a reputation for being high stakes—the kind of event that raised an obscene amount of money for its designated charity.
But she’d had no idea what obscene meant until now. People in attendance were generous beyond reason. It was as if the attendees had stumbled upon a forest of money trees. Or more plausible, they were all moonlighting as counterfeiters.
The one-upmanship among the bidders was a thing of beauty. Full pages of bids and the auction had barely started.
Yet, nothing had prepared her for the moment she spotted the bid on the bundle of T-shirt designs from her online store. The initial bid—a staggering five-figure sum—had quickly ballooned into the realms of six figures. Would Ms. Birdie match that kind of money? Surely not. But if she did, that would be life changing. And Sophie wouldn’t be a professional daydreamer if she didn’t pause and consider what those changes would look like.
Three hundred and fifty thousand—yes, that was the current bid—could whisk her and Poppie into a more upscale neighborhood. And provide Poppie with financial relief. And, if they were frugal, Sophie could take her time exploring her next adventure. After all, one couldn’t be a professional daydreamer all their life.
“What has you wearing a shit-eating grin?” Poppie’s voice cut through her reverie, pulling her back to the present.
“Shush,” she hissed playfully, her eyes darting around. “You can’t use that kind of language here—” She paused, studying him more closely. “Wait a minute. You’re glowing like someone who just had a decade peeled off their life. What happened?”
“I asked first,” Poppie countered with a smirk.
Their light banter was abruptly interrupted as a voice over the PA system filled the air, silencing the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bidding on tonight’s Book Boyfriends will begin in fifteen minutes. If you’ve not yet retrieved a number, please do so immediately.”
The room thrummed with anticipation, and Sophie felt it—a pulsing, brilliant energy that promised an unforgettable evening. Tonight, fortunes would be spent in the blink of an eye, all in the name of a charity. And somewhere in that whirlwind, Sophie would try and capture some of that magic.
“Darling,” Ms. Birdie declared, reappearing at Sophie’s side. “I took you at your word that you would vigorously bid on a book boyfriend and thus give back a slice of the fortune you’re raking in from your products.” Her voice was a blend of amusement and pride as she handed Sophie a bidding paddle. “I must admit, I had no clear idea your success would be quite so spectacular. I’m rather proud of myself for initiating this.”
Sophie accepted the paddle. “Then you’re not upset it’s going to cost you so much out of pocket? I could secretly reimburse you.”
“Absolute nonsense,” Ms. Birdie waved her off with a flourish of her hand. “One should never gamble more than they can afford to lose, nor shy away from backing a worthy cause. I’m more than ready to write a hefty check. But now that you’ve come into your own windfall, I find myself quite eager to nudge you to do the same. After all, it’s not every night that one enters a gala with a modest sum in their account and leaves as a multi-millionaire.”
“Wait. What?” Sophie said. She must have misheard. “I just looked, and the last bid was at three hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Oh darling, that was the last bid on the first page of bids. You didn’t look at the bids on the next page or the next. Trust me, when I say multi, I mean more than a couple.”
Sophie gasped, the sound barely a whisper as a wave of lightheadedness swept over her. “How many more?”
“Many, many multis,” Ms. Birdie said.
“I can’t let you match that.” Sophie reached out and snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a waitperson passing by. “Are you even capable of matching that?” She took a large gulp.
“Yes, darling. I’m quite capable.” Ms. Birdie smiled serenely. “And I most certainly will match the amount.”
Sophie fanned herself with her bidding paddle. “I can’t even imagine.” She glanced around for a place to sit. For the first time in her life, she thought she really might faint.
“The only thing I ask of you is that you enjoy your newfound wealth and pay it forward,” Ms. Birdie said, taking her by the arm, leading her to the bidding area, and finding her a seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our first book boyfriend of the evening is striding right out of the pages of Aggie the Horrible versus Max the Pompous Ass .” Isabella’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Please put your hands together for our very own charismatic Bosshole, Max, also known as Dillon Brax.”
The crowd erupted into applause as a tall figure stepped into the spotlight. His confident gait and smoldering gaze embodied the beloved character to perfection.
“Enjoy,” Ms. Birdie demanded. “And remember, you can afford to buy one.”
In a daze, Sophie nodded, clutching the bidding paddle, feeling the energy of the room around her. The fictional world she had so often escaped to was coming alive before her eyes, and now, thanks to Ms. Birdie’s clever push, she was a player in this serious game. She downed the rest of her champagne and sat the flute under her chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your paddles. Let’s open the floor and see who will have the pleasure of this charming man’s company. Shall we start the bidding at five thousand? Do I hear five thousand? Step right up, don’t be shy—this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
When no one immediately jumped in, Sophie heard herself saying, “We won’t know what he’s worth until we’ve heard him read his line from the book Aggie the Horrible Versus Max the Pompous Ass .”
Isabella laughed. “You’re so right. Pardon my blunder.” She glanced at the bachelor on the stage. “Dillon, could you please read the line written on the index card handed to you before you walked onto the stage.”
Dillon glanced at the card and then directed his gaze to the audience. “‘Stop or prepare to be punished.’” His voice was low, growly, and toe-curling.
Sophie swallowed. Damn. “Five thousand.”
“Do I hear six?” Isabella asked.
“Fifty,” someone said, causing Sophie to gasp. Dear slum lords, who could afford to spend that on a date?
“Fifty-three,” another said.
Five minutes later, Isabella said, “Sold for sixty-two thousand.”
Sophie nearly fell out of her chair, and it wasn’t because of the guzzled champagne. Her book boyfriend idea had netted the charity sixty-two thousand dollars. And there were eleven more bachelors to go. She tried to do quick math on how much that would add up to if they all went for a similar amount. It was a lot.
Obviously, the ladies of Manhattan loved themselves a good bachelor auction. Either that or they just really liked a man who could deliver a naughty line in a tone that caused their imaginations to think very wicked thoughts.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next heart-stopping hero, the man who will sweeten your day just like your favorite morning pastry. Straight from the pages of Emily Henry’s delightful novel Funny Story , here’s Miles…a.k.a., Oliver, our cinnamon roll hero. He’s as sweet and comforting as they come, ready to win your hearts with his charm and kindness. Let’s hear Oliver read his line from the book.”
Oliver raised the card, silently scanned the line, blushed, cleared his throat, and read. “‘I know we said no sex, but can I touch you?’”
As Oliver delivered his line straight from the pages of Funny Story with an irresistible blend of charm and sincerity, she couldn’t help but be swept away by his performance. The moment he finished, she started the applause with rapid-fire clapping of one palm against her paddle, all while doing a quick scan of the crowd to see how the other women were responding.
Her gaze unexpectedly locked with Stone’s. His expression was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. He was scowling, his eyes intense and seemingly fixed upon her. The connection was startling, igniting a flurry of questions. What could have possibly soured his mood on such a thrilling night? Surely, not her declining his drink offer. He couldn’t really have expected her to say yes.
Sophie tore her gaze away from his and refocused on Oliver.
“Shall we open the bid at six thousand?” Isabella said.
“Six.” Sophie held up her paddle.
“Do I hear six-two?”
A woman from the very back of the crowd clearly said, “Twenty-five thousand.” It was a voice Sophie recognized. It was the voice from the phone. The one who’d told her to stand down.
Sophie barely hesitated before saying, “Twenty-seven.”
“Thirty,” the woman replied.
“Forty-five,” a different person shouted.
Sophie looked closely at Oliver as she continued bidding on him. She was looking for a sign, any sign of who he wanted to win the bid. When she finally got a hint, a huge smile from him at a certain bid, Sophie stopped. Oliver wanted the woman from the threatening phone call to win him at auction. Interesting. Should she warn him? Or did they know one another already?
“Darling, why aren’t you bidding?” Ms. Birdie said, coming up next to her.
“My gut tells me he wants the other woman to win.”
“You my dear, are too nice. If you want a man, go after him.”
“Oh, I will if that man ever comes along.”
“He will. You’ll see. He will. Now, be a doll and stop being so nice. You’ve got deep pockets. Don’t make me regret taking you under my wing.” She handed Sophie another glass of champagne.
“Got it. I won’t.” Deep pockets? Holy Book Boyfriend, that was going to take some getting used to.