Chapter 20
PAIGE
I won.
By only two sets, sweating harder than I have in months. I’m better than him, in terms of form and technique, but he clearly plays more regularly, and he’s physically stronger. It was a closer game than I anticipated.
But I won.
So after the game, he heads to the dock to swim in the lake, and I stand on the worn stone, watching him dive clean off the dock and break the water’s surface with practiced ease.
Fully clothed.
It doesn’t seem like it bothers him in the least, and weirdly, his lack of annoyance doesn’t bother me either. I walk into my shower with my mind completely blank.
It’s the first time it’s been blank in years.
It’s bliss.
I work the rest of the day and finally work through answering my friends from home. Amy already knows it all, but many of the others don’t. They’re all wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. It’s hard to explain, but I do my best.
In the evening, we head to the charity event in Milan. It’ll be our first time in public since Sylvie’s dinner. My blue dress is tight, my heels high, and my mind is a far cry from the tired contentedness I felt earlier. It’s whirring like the engine of the car.
The gala is hosted inside a famous opera house in the city. Business leaders and famous people from across Italy are in attendance. Rafe tells me in hushed tones that it’s a charity auction. The guests get to decide which new charities get funded based on their donations.
Sylvie is there too, and Leelyn, and both immediately make me smile. Leelyn is dressed in a deep mauve dress that sets off her short hair, and Sylvie is flawless in a black kaftan.
“Thank God you’re here,” Leelyn says. “There’s no fountain, but I saw an ice sculpture we could have fun with.”
Sylvie laughs. “You two are terrible.”
They mingle with us, and over the course of an hour, I talk to most of the charity heads hoping to be funded tonight. I like one in particular so much that I decide to give them all the money I’ll get from selling the extravagances I bought on Rafe’s card.
The organizers drift on and off the stage during dinner, auctioning off item after item. Rare first editions, cars, trips and private chef visits. The winner of the item chooses which charity gets their donation.
A digital chart on the wall shows the numbers for each charity. Several of them have already far surpassed their fundraising goal.
The one I like hasn’t reached theirs yet.
I sit next to Rafe, my foot tap-tap-tapping against the ground. The charity organizer I spoke to earlier looks like she might cry. She’s talking to another woman, her mouth moving quickly, hands moving even faster.
They’re not even halfway to their goal.
I tug on Rafe’s arm. There are dark circles under his eyes that I didn’t notice earlier. Like he hasn’t slept. “Yes?”
“What happens if a charity doesn’t reach their goal?” I ask.
“The funding goal?”
“Yes.” I look back at the organizer. She was so passionate earlier, speaking about the organization and the girls that would be helped. I loved listening to her.
“Then it won’t be funded,” he says. “That’s the point of tonight. A larger organization throws this auction to fund new initiatives, but only the ones guests believe in.”
“But that’s not fair.”
“Not everything is fair.” Rafe’s voice doesn’t sound mean for once. It sounds tired in a way I’ve never heard from him before. “That’s life.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No, but that’s the way of the world. If these people don’t believe in the idea, odds are that regular donors won’t either.”
“I don’t believe that. They have a fantastic idea. I’ll fix it.”
“Paige, whatever you’re thinking of—putain.” He cuts off when I get up and stride toward the stage, passing the still sniffling lady.
My heart is pounding. No thinking. The man stationed by the stage takes a step forward, his arm extended, like he doesn’t know whether to stop me or welcome me up.
I give him a blinding smile. “I’d like to add an item to the auction.”
He nods, looking back up at the concierge on stage. I give him the same wide smile. There are eyes on me. I can feel them, like pinpricks. Most guests are seated for dinner, and here I am, walking up to the stage.
But waiting for permission isn’t a good idea. I’ve learned that. Asking for forgiveness is always better.
So I climb the stairs in my ridiculously high heels and walk across the stage. The music is louder now. It takes me a second to realize it’s because people have stopped talking and they’re all now looking at the stage.
At me.
The speaker hands me the mic with a dumbfounded expression. He’s been calling out each bid both in Italian and English, but I’ll have to do my best with just English.
“Hi everyone! Are you having a good night?” I ask.
No one answers me, but they don’t look angry either.
There’s rapt attention and the curiosity of people who haven’t yet decided if they’re watching a car crash.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. You see, I realized the charity I’ve become enamored with tonight might not meet their funding goal.
I’d like to try to change that.” This next part will hurt.
But I have to use his name and attach it to my own.
“I’m Paige Montclair, and I’m auctioning off a dinner with me.
I’ll pick up the tab and maybe treat you to something extra, too.
” I wink at the crowd, and they laugh. Hopefully most of them have seen the pictures of me spending outrageous amounts of money in Milan.
No doubt they’ve all read the news about Rafe and me.
“I promise I’m a great dinner date,” I say. “The only catch is that whatever you bid has to go to a charity of my choosing.”
My heart is pounding alongside the beat of the music.
This seemed like a fantastic idea ten seconds ago.
The many, many eyes of the fashion world’s elite all looking directly at me.
My gaze snags on one handsome, furious man at the table closest to the stage.
He’s looking at me like he might murder me.
This is going to be so, so embarrassing if no one bids.
I turn to the presenter. He’s finally found his footing and holds out his hand for the mic.
“Lovely!” he says. “What a brilliant idea. A dinner with the new Mrs. Montclair and a chance to get to know her better. I imagine there are more than a few here who see the value in that, hmm?” He laughs, and others join in.
He repeats it in Italian and opens the bidding.
I smile like I’m the most confident person in the room. Bid on me, I think. Please. My time was the only thing I could think of to offer. The villa isn’t mine. The cars aren’t mine. But my access to Rafe is the one thing I can gamble on people wanting.
A hand lifts up near the middle.
“Fantastic!” the auctioneer says. “We have ten thousand. Do we have fifteen? Anyone for fifteen?”
A woman in the third row lifts her paddle, and just like that, the bidding is off. Six other people jump in, and the price quickly rises to nearly forty thousand in a matter of seconds.
It’s strategic.
Becoming my friend means potentially becoming Raphael Montclair’s, and from what I’ve seen, he’s charming to many and close to almost none. It’s access people in this room might kill for.
I look over at the woman I spoke to, who runs the charity Rise and Bloom. She’s got a wide-eyed look on her face as she looks at me. At these amounts… It seems she’s funded now.
My hands relax at my sides.
“Do we have fifty thousand?” the auctioneer asks. “Do we? If not, a dinner with Paige Montclair is going in three, going in two—oh, gentleman in the first row. Raphael Montclair himself!”
Rafe is holding his paddle up. “A hundred thousand.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but it carries across the room. There’s barely leashed irritation there.
“A hundred thousand! Mr. Montclair isn’t one to share, is he?” the auctioneer says with a wide grin. “And who are we to begrudge him, ladies and gentlemen, with this beautiful new bride? Going once, going twice… sold to Mr. Montclair!”
Rafe’s smiling, with the faint crook to his lips that I know well. But this time it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He’s pissed.