Good Girl and Grinches (Christmas Cherry Auction)

1. One

One

Ruckus

I scan the club, my attention drawn past the glittering chandeliers and velvet drapes of Aubergine Affair. The annual Christmas Cherry Auction has drawn a smaller-than-usual mix of wealthy bidders and curious onlookers.

Tough shit for the fundraising, but the only thing in the room that matters is my stepsister, Sabrina.

She bends to pick up a dropped napkin, giving some silver-haired executive a view that makes my blood boil. My feet itch to march over there, to stand between her and the vulture’s hungry stare.

But I can’t. I won’t be that guy—the controlling older stepbrother who ruins her night. At more than ten years her senior, I shouldn’t be standing here with my cock thickened. I curse myself for not being any better than him.

“Look at that creep.” Ghost’s jaw clenches as he leans onto the hi-top table. “A ccidentally brushing against her.”

“She’s capable of handling herself.” The fact of the statement doesn’t change how hard it is to contain my need to possess Sabrina. I’m eager for the day that she gets her event planning business up and running, so she doesn’t have to put up with all of these jerks thinking she’s a piece of meat.

“Doesn’t mean we have to like it.” Flame’s voice carries that charming calm that usually precedes someone getting their ass handed to them. His gaze tracks Sabrina’s movement from table to table.

Ghost says, “Remember when she was getting bullied so we picked her up from school and scared the crap out of those jerks?”

“She’s not twelve anymore.” I force the words past the knot in my throat. “And these aren’t middle school bullies. And—”

Ghost’s shoulders tense as another suit-clad businessman approaches Sabrina. “She’s a waitress, not one of the virgins being auctioned, and they’re still circling like wolves.”

“Wealthy wolves,” Flame mutters. “The most dangerous kind.”

I watch Sabrina laugh at something the businessman says. Her smile seems genuine, but when her fingers creep into her cleavage where she fishes out that ever-present lip gloss, I’m more than aware that she’s nervous.

“She’s just doing her job,” I say, more to convince myself than them. “Keeping the alcohol flowing before the auction.”

Flame downs his beer. “Then why does every laugh make me want to fuck somebody up?”

Ghost’s hand clamps onto Flame’s shoulder. “Because we’re her brothers. But we’re going to sit here, enjoy our drinks, and let her handle this her way. Just like we agreed.”

“Unless she needs us.” Flame shrugs off Ghost’s hand.

I nod and hope like hell she needs us. Crap. That’s a shit thought. I don’t want anything to go wrong. I want something far more impossible—for her to want me. Good fucking luck.

She catches my eye across the room and waves, her smile bright in the dim club lighting. My heart does that thing it’s not supposed to—that forbidden flutter that makes me hate myself.

I raise my glass in acknowledgment, keeping my expression neutral. She’s an adult. She can make her own choices. Even if those choices include waitressing at a virgin auction where several of the men are old enough to be her father.

My mere presence proves that I don’t fully respect her choice. It would kill me if she got in over her head.

Another laugh, another stranger making way too much of a casual touch or lingering glance. I drain my whiskey, the burn in my throat blends with the ache in my chest. Thirty-two is too old to be thinking about a twenty-year-old like this. Especially one who shares my family tree.

I force my gaze to the crystal glasses lined up at the bar, try to focus on anything but her, and count them one by one. One, two, three … My jaw clenches as her melodic laugh carries across the room. Four, five …dammit.

My eyes betray me, drawn back to the aubergine cocktail dress that hugs every curve, making her look older than her twenty. More sophisticated. More… everything.

I grip my whiskey glass harder—the way I’d like to grip every neck that turns to watch her. And who is it that’s staring more than anyone? Me.

Sabrina offers a drink to a man who’s back is to us, making it impossible to tell what he says.

But he leans too close, brushes her hair behind her shoulder way too slowly, and makes her eyes light up far too bright.

“He needs to let her do her fucking job,” Ghost mutters.

“Think that’s her type?” Flame’s question carries an edge.

“Organized, successful, charming…” I tip my glass to my lips, met with a lonely ice cube. “I’d rather not think of her as having a type.”

She laughs again, head tilted back, exposing her throat. The guy says something else and she steps even closer, until their bodies nearly touch. Her free hand gestures animatedly as she talks.

She’s supposed to be serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres not parking it for story hour for some rich fuck.

I force myself to look away. I fail. I’ve never watched her flirt before. She’s quirky but it must be working. The electricity crackling between them is visible even from across the room.

Flame downs the rest of his beer. “Good thing she’s not up for bid.”

The asshole would certainly bid on her. A bashful smile tells me that she would disagree with my assessment of his asshole status.

Sabrina’s brain must remind her that she has a job to do, and she steps away. The vulture shifts his weight to watch her leave. No decency.

But the motion gives me a look at his face and I freeze. “What the fuck?” I nudge Ghost’s arm.

“That’s Tyson. The bastard from the arson case.” Ghost shifts toward the man.

“Easy.” I grab his sleeve. “We haven’t proven it.”

“The evidence is solid.” Flame’s usual smirk vanishes. “If he lights her world on fire, there’s too much of a likelihood it would be a literal fire.”

I force my breaths to slow, fighting the urge to march over there myself. “He’ll be arrested before long. If he wins any of the women tonight, we’ll talk to Laz, otherwise we need to lay low.”

Ghost’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Or I could just escort him out.”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “Everything about this investigation is classified. He doesn’t know we’re onto him. We start making accusations, he could skip town.”

Flame runs a hand through his hair. “So what, we just let this creep chat up our baby sister?”

“I’ll keep eyes on him.” My stomach churns watching Sabrina glance at our suspect as she replenishes her serving tray with her friends. “He’ll lose interest once the auction starts.”

The truth is, I don’t want any man near Sabrina. Not this suspect, not the rich idiots here to bid on virgins, none of them. I check the time. Why can’t they start the auction early—end my suffering?

“Fine.” Ghost crosses his arms. “But if Ty makes a move—”

A voice booms over the PA system. It’s Lazovski, the owner of the Aubergine Affair. “Attention, everyone. I’ve just received word that the auctionees’ car slid off the road in the snowstorm. Thankfully they’re unharmed. Just going to be a little late. Please be patient.”

Fuck no. I didn’t think the evening could get worse, but a delay means more time watching Sabrina get ogled by men who don’t deserve someone as sweet and innocent as her.

The delay is also the impetus for concern. Several bidders start discussing the possibility that some of the waitresses might want to step up. Next thing I know, they’re chanting for Jasmine, one of Sabrina’s friends to take the stage.

Too close to home.

And furthering the downward spiral of the evening, it looks like Jasmine is trying to talk Sabrina and their other friend into being auctioned. Knowing that Sabrina loves planning and prep work as much as the events themselves, I try to assure myself that she wouldn’t do something so spontaneous.

Would she? Maybe I don’t know my stepsister as good as I think I do.

My stomach drops as Sabrina volunteers with three other waitresses. Her fingers find that lip gloss, applying a fresh coat while Laz informs everyone of the changes.

“No.” The word escapes before I can stop it. If she goes on stage, I’ll have to bid on her. The avalanche of problems snowballs from revealing my feelings for her all the way to the old guard turning our promotions down because I’m shacking up with my stepsister, regardless of my investigative abilities. Too much risk.

“It’s way too rash for her.” Ghost’s voice comes out strangled.

Flame grabs the edge of our table. “Do you think they pressured her?”

I catch Ty’s predatory smile as he moves closer to the stage, his eyes locked on Sabrina. My chest constricts. This can’t be happening. She can’t auction herself off, not with him here. Not with any of these men.