Chapter 23
Lennon
The Uber drops me and Sloane off in front of the Belleair Country Club. I thread my arm through hers as we climb the steps and walk into the lobby.
“Breathe,” she says as she squeezes my hand.
“So many beautiful people,” I whisper in awe as we head toward the registration table.
“Lennon Kelly.” Sloane gives the woman behind the table my name when she sees I’m overwhelmed by the crowd around us.
A blonde, twenty-something woman who could pass for Margot Robbie offers me a wide, dazzling smile when our eyes meet.
“Lennon,” Sloane nudges me. “She needs your ID.”
Feeling a little tipsy from our bottle of red wine at dinner and the intoxicating buzz of elegance around me, I dig into my tiny purse and hand over my driver’s license.
The woman checks it, then hands it back. She has me sign a waiver and gives me a white band to put on my wrist.
“You can mingle with the bidders until the auction starts in an hour. Flirt, up your chances of a higher bid. Remember it’s for a good cause.” She winks and points to her right. “Ballroom’s done the hall. Good luck.”
We step into the ballroom and take it all in. There’s a stage set up in the back with about thirty round tables in front of it. A few people are sitting at the tables, but most of them are mingling around the bar or the dance floor.
The theme is red and white. Red tablecloths with white rose centerpieces. The room is bathed in a soft red light, but hundreds of strings of twinkling, white fairy lights hang from the ceiling. Waiters in red vests carry trays of champagne.
One approaches us as we walk deeper into the magical room.
“Thanks,” I say as we accept a glass.
“Cheers.” Sloane grins as she clinks my glass of bubbly. “To moving on.”
The image of Giada in Sandro’s arms flashes in my mind. I lift my chin and nod. “To moving on.”
“Ladies!” Brick is suddenly there, hugging us. “You came.” He grins at me. “I thought for sure you’d bail after the mimosas wore off.”
Sloane wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, she’s braver than she looks.”
I smirk at her. “Thanks… I think.”
He grabs my hand. “Okay, come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
I hold my champagne in the air as he pulls me across the dance floor, through the crowd of people in tuxes and designer dresses. He’s explaining as we go.
“His name’s Nance Vaughn. He’s just your type, tall, dark and broody. Owns a chain of steak houses. And he’s here to bid. So make a good impression.”
I glance back at Sloane, who’s following us, and roll my eyes.
She laughs and shakes her head.
Brick pulls me in front of a tall, thin man in a tux and red bow tie. “Nance, this is Lennon, my friend I was telling you about.”
His dark eyes run an assessing look down my body. I immediately stiffen, feeling like a commodity he’s evaluating for purchase. I mean, I know that’s the point of this whole thing. But still, it rubs me the wrong way.
He takes my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Lennon.”
I remove my hand from his, having to tug a bit to get him to let go. I don’t say “likewise” because he’s already given me the ick. I nod and take a swallow of champagne instead.
He doesn’t seem to notice my lack of response anyway, instead launching into a rant about himself that no one asked for.
After a few minutes, Sloane must notice my eyes glazing over, because she interrupts him. “Sorry, but I have to borrow Lennon for a moment. There’s someone I need to introduce her to.”
He quickly hides his irritation with a fake smile. “Of course.” Then turns to me. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lennon. I so enjoyed our conversation.”
I swallow a scoff that’s now caught in my throat. Conversation? He didn’t ask me one question about myself. I’m surprised he didn’t break out a slide show of all his accomplishments to go along with his self-centered monologue.
“We’ll catch up with you in a bit,” I say to Brick before Sloane tugs me away.
“Good Lord,” she groans as we weave through the crowd that’s getting thicker by the minute. “What a pompous ass.”
“Thanks for the save.” I sigh as we find an open spot to drink our champagne and people-watch.
We spend the next forty minutes chatting with some of the other partygoers, and a few of the men tell me they’re going to bid on me. Despite a few handsome, polite ones, none of them get me excited. But hey, just putting myself back out there is a start.
Then they announce it’s time for the women and men in the auction to head to the side of the stage.
My heart stutters in my chest. I’d almost forgotten why I’m here. I flatten my palm against my stomach, which is suddenly full of butterflies.
Sloane takes both my hands in hers and makes me look into her eyes. “You’re going to do great. Just be yourself and have fun.”
“Fun. Right.” I squeeze her hands and then blow out a breath.
“Just so you know, if no one bids on me, I’m never leaving my apartment again.
” I give her a hug as she chuckles, down the rest of my champagne for liquid courage, and then make my way to the side of the stage where the others are gathering.
When I see I’m behind the Margot Robbie ringer, I move to the back of the line. No way I’m going after her. But then maybe the back of the line isn’t the place to be. Maybe the bidders will be out of money by the time they get to me. I shake my hands, trying to dry the sweat.
Stop overthinking it, Lennon.
The guy beside me chuckles. When I look at him, he shoots me a killer smile. “Nervous?”
I nod, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Don’t be. You’re a breath of fresh air, you’ll get bids.” He winks and for some reason, it feels reassuring. I’ll take it.
“Thanks.” I bite my tongue before “you, too” comes out.
The background music fades as an elegant woman in a red gown steps up to the microphone on stage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the third annual Hurricane Relief Date Night.” She pauses while everyone gets settled at the tables.
“Before bidding begins, I’d like to remind you of the rules.
When you win the bid on the person of your choice, you’re getting four hours of their time.
Of course, if you’re both enjoying the date, it can last as long as you wish.
The time and place must be agreed upon by both parties.
” She clears her throat and a ghost of a smile pulls up one side of her mouth.
“Make no mistake here, you are not buying a happy ending.” After a light chuckle rolls through the tipsy crowd, she claps her hands together.
“Okay, let’s get this auction started.” She plucks a sheet of paper off the podium and reads the first name out loud. “Sylvia Beltoise.”
A petite blonde in a gold mermaid dress steps up and waves to the crowd as she glides across the stage.
The woman in red continues, “Miss Sylvia is a finance manager from Palm Beach. She attended St. Mary’s, then Harvard and her hobbies include fencing, marathons and growing orchids.
Her favorite charity is Give Kids the World.
” She pauses as Sylvia does a little model walk and shimmy, sending the crowd into a round of applause and whistles.
“All right, you eager people. Let’s start the bidding at one thousand.”
My heart jumps erratically in my chest like a caged bird. They’re starting with a thousand dollars? Oh my god. My horror grows as one man after another shouts out, raising the bid to twelve thousand within minutes. My hands begin to sweat.
“Twenty thousand.”
“Twenty-two thousand.”
Silence.
“And sold to the gentleman in the red velvet tie for twenty-two thousand,” the woman announces. “Thank you.”
There’s thunderous applause.
Sylvia takes a little bow and then blows the guy a kiss. As she saunters off the stage and is escorted to the hallway, the woman at the podium reads the second name.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stood in the back of the line. My stress levels are going through the roof. It would’ve been better just to get it over with.
Six people later, I find out I didn’t have to worry about that. Apparently, we aren’t going by the line, but by the order on her list.
“Up next is Lennon Kelly.”
I freeze. My mouth is suddenly dry and my stomach heaves.
The woman stares over at us now. “Lennon Kelly?” she repeats.
Somehow I manage to pass the people in the line and climb the stairs on shaky legs. I force a smile as I cross the stage to her, praying I don’t trip and fall on my face. When I reach her, I swear I see sympathy in her eyes.
I know my face is bright red.
When she introduces me and recites my occupation, hobbies and favorite charity, I turn and face the room.
There’s a light trained on the stage, but it's not bright enough to block out the faces staring back at me. I take a deep breath as the woman grabs my hand and winks.
“All right, gentleman.” She lifts our hands together and gives me a twirl like we’re dancing.
I guess standing there like a frozen statue won’t bring in the bids. Moving helps me calm down, though and I’m finally able to give them a smile that hopefully doesn’t look crazy.
“Do I hear one thousand for this natural beauty?”
“Two thousand!” a voice calls from one of the tables.
I clasp my hands in front of me, holding my smile. Relief floods my body as the bids continue to go up.
When the bid reaches fourteen thousand, someone yells, “Thirty thousand,” from the back.
My body stills as a murmur goes through the crowd. Then a shock of adrenaline rushes through me as I lock eyes with Sandro.
He’s leaning against the back wall in a tux, arms crossed, blue eyes burning so bright I can feel the heat from here.
His younger brother Rocco is next to him with a roguish grin and a glass of champagne in his hand. He slowly raises it to me in a toast.
When did they get here?
“Thirty-five thousand,” another man calls out from my left.
I force myself to look away from Sandro and see that it’s Brick’s friend, Nance Vaughn.
He nods at me with a self-satisfied smile.