32. Alexis #3
“Looks like we have a bidding war on our hands,” says Connor gleefully. “We’re at nine hundred. Mr. Thorne, are you still in this? Do I hear one thousand?”
I glance at Gabriel, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is unreadable, but I catch a flicker of something in his eyes as he sizes me up. After a brief moment of silence, he nods toward Connor, his tone casual as he says, “You know what? Let’s make it fifty thousand.”
“I—” Connor’s eyes widen, and he gapes like a fish for a moment at the sudden surge in the bid price. “That’s very kind, sir, very kind indeed. Fifty thousand dollars.” Connor turns his attention to me. “Do I see… fifty-one thousand?”
I shake my head, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Um, no thanks. I think I’m out.”
Laughter bubbles up from the crowd, and Connor chuckles. “Understandable. That’s one premium massage. Going, going, gone—to Mr. Thorne, for fifty thousand dollars!” He gestures toward Gabriel, who receives a small round of applause.
I turn to Gabriel, who’s smiling with an air of quiet satisfaction.
He settles back in his chair, lifting his champagne flute in a mock toast to me. “Well fought.”
I’m still processing everything that just happened. “Not really. You outbid me by over forty-nine thousand dollars. What was that about?” I ask, my voice a mixture of confusion and amusement.
He cocks a brow, taking a sip of the champagne. “Are you kidding? I don’t want some other man touching you.”
My mouth falls open, and I close it with a snap, doing my best to stifle my giggle. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious,” Gabriel replies. “That’s a privilege reserved for me, and me alone.” His lips curve up slightly at the corners. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
His grin widens, the mischievous gleam in his eyes unmistakable. “You can have as many massages as you want,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. “Just as long as I’m the one giving them. Consider me your personal masseuse from now on.”
His sinful smirk is laced with a possessive undertone, and his gaze darkens just enough to make my heart flutter in response.
I laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, although a little heat creeps into my cheeks. “Be careful what you offer,” I warn. “I’m going to start taking you up on that. Often.”
“Good.” His voice turns rough. “I hope you do.”
The auction continues around us, but Gabriel doesn’t bid on any more items. I catch glimpses of his focus shifting between the crowd and me, but for the most part, he seems content to watch the chaos unfold.
It’s fascinating to see how the bids climb, especially since this is a charity auction, and people are more than willing to pay far more than the actual value for these offerings.
Lift tickets at a ski resort in Utah sell for thousands of dollars, while a loge box at Dodger Stadium for the home opener fetches close to ten grand, although nothing goes for as much as the massage Gabriel bought.
As the auction finally winds down, so does the sit-down dinner.
The guests, now more relaxed, begin to migrate back into the lobby, where casual conversation takes over.
The hustle and intensity of the auction are replaced by quieter chatter, punctuated by light laughter as guests move in small groups, engaging in more laid-back exchanges.
Soft piano music drifts through the background.
The string quartet from the beginning of the evening is taking a break.
I find myself enjoying the small talk more than I thought I would.
Mostly, that’s because Gabriel is present for all of them, and there’s no one I would rather talk to than him.
He keeps the conversations flowing effortlessly.
His easy confidence is infectious, and I find myself slipping into his rhythm, speaking more freely than I normally would in these types of settings.
He has a way of making everything feel casual, as if we’re simply spending time together rather than navigating a high-society gala.
I’m so engrossed in our conversation that I almost don’t notice Travis.
He’s in the crowd, around twenty feet away. I look out over the crowd briefly, and our gazes lock for an instant. Dismay washes over me. I was having such a good night. Why did he have to be here?
After everything he said to me, just the sight of him is enough to make me uncomfortable. I instantly feel a tightening in my chest, a nervous flutter that I can’t shake off. Dropping my gaze, I shuffle closer to Gabriel, my grip tight on my champagne flute.
Gabriel glances down at me, concern in his eyes as he notices my sudden tension. “Everything okay?” he asks in a low voice.
I bite my lip. There’s no hiding my discomfort from Gabriel. He’s too tuned in to how I’m feeling, how I’m carrying myself. So rather than try to lie and tell him I’m fine, I jerk my chin in Travis’s direction.
Gabriel turns and follows my gaze. As soon as he catches sight of Travis, his jaw tightens, his expression growing dark.