No one else has to worry.
Thing is, every single face in the room, apart from Jules looks worried when I mention the changes.
“There’ll be memos and updates first thing Monday. So until then, happy bidding and enjoy your dinner,” Is all I tell ‘em. For now.
I cast my eye around the room, feeling every set of eyes meet mine from the darkness beyond the podium.
I never said the changes would be bad, and they won’t be. But I know for a fact that it’ll be the last meal many of these people have at my expense.
That’s for damned sure.
I wish Nicholas was here. He’s always so diplomatic on my behalf.
Left alone, I’ve either got my head in the clouds or become judge, jury, and executioner when it comes to business.
Now that I have a better idea as to what’s actually been going on, I think there’ll be heads rolling for some weeks to come.
But not Jules’ and my own is screwed back on straight enough.
I make my way back to our table, ignoring the people standing and applauding me with gusto now, eager to make sure they’re seen to be supporting me.
Whipping out my phone, I hold it up, knowing that the cameras, and the crowd are still following my every move.
I motion for everyone to do the same, to make sure they have the app downloaded so the bidding can start.
The huge screen fades out then back again, a giant counter showing the amounts raised so far and how much Thorne Industries (me) is matching, dollar for dollar.
It makes me growl to myself with dissatisfaction, but feeling Jules’ arm touching mine as she shifts in her seat, I remind myself what I’m actually here for.
It makes me feel so calm, so happy straight away. Like going to the dentist. I know I have a little discomfort up ahead with work, with the business, but at the end of that tunnel…
I’ll make her mine, then nothing else will matter.
The eyes closest to me all look away.
Everyone at the table pretends to busy themselves with their auction app or making choices from the dinner menu.
Jules watches me, with a mixture of confusion. Then looks out into the darkness of the ballroom, as if she’s trying to find someone. I ask her if she’s looking for anyone special.
“No,” she says quickly. I want to put my hand over hers again, but think better of it. I don’t want to embarrass her any more than I already have.
“I think I’ve found what I’m looking for,” she adds cryptically, smiling to herself as she looks down at her phone, opening up the auction app.
I wonder who thinks of these things.
I can remember, not too long ago, you would have a dinner or an auction and the guests would actually look at each other in the eye, talk to one another.
These days, even in business, it’s all eyes down and everything is communicated in through reports or emails.
I think it’s stupid.
Besides, my bids have already been placed and I’ve told the people in charge that if I’m outbid, to let me know at once.
CHAPTER NINE
Jules
I pretend to look at the auction app, but truth is, I don’t even know how to add it to my phone. Or maybe I just don’t want to.
Actually, I know I don’t want to.
If Mason hadn’t bumped into me, I’d be home by now, crying my eyes out and eating junk food in front of the television before a bath and an early night.
But I can’t let myself think like that.
He did bump into me, and I do want to be here.
I just feel like a clown wearing this stupid dress that doesn’t fit, having the whole damned building in one room laughing at me behind Mason’s back.
I know he’s genuine. He meant it when he said I looked great, I know he did, even if I don’t feel that way about myself right now.
Everyone else, all the Karen’s of the world.
That’s a different story, and if it wasn’t for Mason’s unusual announcement about changes coming up, I think a fair few more would be laughing in my face.
People can be so cruel.
Our host for the evening, What’s his name again?
He’s reading of some information that sounds like rehearsed ads about the sponsors who helped make tonight possible, along with a montage on the giant screen, updating the amounts raised so far, plus a little about each chosen charity.
God, I’d forgotten how boring corporate anything actually is.
Still looking down at my phone, I can feel Mason’s eyes on me and I look over at him.
Up at him really, he’s so close. So big.
Being this close to him makes me naturally nervous and I wonder if I have something else for people to stare at, like a stain or something, as if this dress wasn’t bad enough.
But his eyes are kind, shining with excitement.
“I know it’s boring,” he observes in a low whisper, leaning in extra close, making me shiver when his lip actually brushes my ear.
“Maybe once I’m able to, once the auctions winds down, we can pick up where we left off?”
The look in his eyes suddenly registers with new meaning for me.
I’ve never had anyone, let alone a real man sound like he’s anywhere close to wanting to spend time with me… alone.
I feel my head nodding slowly, and my jaw’s dropping open.
This is actually-
A loud shriek from across the ballroom makes everybody look up from their phones.
I feel my own head snap up and look over to where I was sitting before.
I know that voice.
A low murmur ripples through the crowd and the host at the podium gives a running commentary to the total bid amounts, which have just jumped to a higher number.
A much higher number.
“Well, folks! This is getting interesting. We have a huge bid from a mystery bidder. Ms. Karen Perkins and her charity have just raised over twenty-five thousand dollars!”
There’s some enthusiastic clapping, and I can hear Karen calling out something stupid as if she’s gonna get the money all for herself.
I wonder if she even understands how this auction works. That she has to actually put in some time somewhere to help other people for a change.
Looking up at the screen, I don’t recognize the charity. It sounds more like a business name.
Weird.
Looking back at Mason, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he sat down, and I ask him if everything’s alright.
“Everything’s perfect,” he says, and flashes me that look again.
A look that’s starting to make me feel like I wanna lift this dress up some, and let a little of this heat out.
But I only flush harder, absently picking up a menu.
“I already ordered for us both,” he says, leaning in again. “I hope that’s okay?”
I smile nervously, and without even seeing my face I know it’s a creepy smile.
I’m just not used to anything like this, and Mason almost looks concerned again. But then he smiles that magical smile of his.
It seems nothing can faze Mason Thorne.
Our table, being the important one, is served first and the food looks amazing.
Small on huge plates, but amazing. I wait for a signal so I know what to do next. I don’t want to start eating before anyone else, especially before Mason.
But there’s another announcement. It seems someone else wants to bid big on Karen Perkins.
For goodness sake.
I feel suddenly ill and I push my plate away.
Why is that cow getting any attention? She probably doesn’t even know where she is by now.
Looking over at Mason, he’s taken his phone out with the auction app open.
My heart lurches into the pit of my stomach when I see it’s him who’s bidding so much… on Karen.
I feel so hurt, betrayed even. But I try to remind myself, it’s his auction, he can bid whatever he w
ants.
Maybe he’s bidding that much on everyone?
I fight the feeling for as long as I can, and my plate gets taken away untouched. Mason asks me if everything’s alright but I look away, shifting in my seat so he can’t see my face.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer says in his deep baritone. “We only have one charity, one sponsor with no bids so far but at just over halfway we have raised a staggering one point eight million dollars combined for over two hundred charities.”
The applause is loud, deafening almost and it only makes me feel sicker.
I wonder who’s the only one who didn’t get a bid.
I don’t even have to look, I know it’s me.
Getting up, I eye the door again, and straight away Mason is at my side, his hand on my back.
“Jules? What’s the matter?” he asks me, full of concern. Worried looking.
“I have to use the ladies,” I lie and I move away from the table, but Mason isn’t letting me go that easily.
“Me too,” he says, and when I try and shoot him a hurt look, he gives me a charming smile, that I can’t help but laugh a little.
“You’re gonna come with me into the stall?” I ask, still surprised at how harsh I sound. How hurt I actually feel.
“Not unless you want me to,” he says, winking and then taking my arm, walking with me.
“What’s the matter, Jules? Should we just get outta here?” he asks.
The closer we come to the restrooms, in the lobby, the quieter it feels, and I notice how loud my own voice is when I blurt it out.
“Maybe you’d rather spend the evening with Karen Perkins!” I practically shout, turning on my heel and rushing into the ladies’ room, slamming a stall door closed behind me and starting to sob.
Feeling like a complete moron all over again.
What the hell is wrong with me? I must have a fever still. I’m acting like a lunatic today.
I try to cry, but the tears just won’t come. It’s like my heart’s not really in it anymore.
I manage a couple of dry croaks, but then I’m done.
A part of me shuts down, resigning myself to being fired or quitting. Either way, there’s no real comeback for acting like such a witch in front of Thorne Mason twice in one day.
I’ll get my things from the office Monday, right now I just want to go home and-
“Jules? Jules, c’mon out please.”
Crap.
It’s Mason, he’s actually in the ladies’ room.
I guess it is his building, he can do what he likes.
In a matter of seconds I’ve gone from jealous witch to blubbering schoolgirl to unemployed pessimist to feeling like I want to curl up and disappear, dying from embarrassment.
“Jules,” he says again, not asking this time.
Telling.
I feel that cord again, that invisible rope between us, pulling us closer together again.
No matter how hard I might be trying to ruin whatever is happening between me and Mason Thorne, he keeps coming back for more, and I can’t stay mad at him for more than two minutes.
I open the stall door. He waits patiently, leaning against the sink.
“Did you really need to go?” he asks, looking concerned. “I can wait outside.”
But I’m good. I sniffle some, then laugh a little.
“I have bid a high amount on Karen Perkins, yes,” he says, a matter of fact.
I sigh and make an ‘I understand’ face, but it still stings when I think about it.
“I’m asking you to trust me, Jules,” he continues. “Can you do that? I don’t have any interest in Karen Perkins. You’re my dinner date, in case you missed that part,” he adds.
I open my mouth, hoping some flash of brilliance will empower me with what I need to say to make this right, but he rescues me.
Again.
Moving in close, so close his whole front touches me, he presses a finger to my lips as I stare up at him.
“Just, trust me, okay?” he says softly.
I don’t need him to ask me twice. I’d leap off a roof if he told me to right now.
He takes his finger away, and I feel myself straining on the balls of my feet, lifting myself higher as his face slowly moves towards mine.
I feel a rush of blood to my chest, my face, and it sings in my ears.
This is really-
“Oh! Oh, I beg your pardon! Mr. Thorne! What are you doing in here?”
A whole gaggle of tipsy women have just invaded the ladies’ room.
Instead of being mad he’s in here they swarm to him practically pushing me out of the way.
He opens his mouth to say something, but keeping his eyes on me, he just backs towards the door. His eyes commanding me to follow.
“Sorry ladies. I thought I was in the gents, uh, excuse me.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mason
This is becoming more stressful by the minute. If it’s not Jules about to run again, it’s being swarmed by crazy women when I’m just about to kiss her.
I make my retreat from the ladies’ room, and fortunately for me, Jules follows.
Gripping her by the hand, I pull her gently behind some huge plants in the foyer, hiding us from prying eyes.
“Like I was saying, I just need to wait for the bidding to finish. Then we can go. I’ll have you all to myself,” I promise her.
Promising myself.
“You’ll be all mine.”
I don’t mean to sound so possessive, but I can’t help it. The more time I waste, the more it feels like I risk losing her.
Somebody else is bidding on that idiot Karen too, who’s to say they won’t bid on Jules.
My Jules.
It still makes me edgy, and worse now that Jules is upset again.
I just want this part to be over, so I can finish what we almost started there in the ladies’ room.
“You don’t want Karen?” she asks, and I’m pretty sure my look says it all.
“I have my reasons for bidding on her, and it’s nothing like that,” I promise her.
“Now, can we head back in?” I ask her, nervous again. I need to make sure my plan goes off without a hitch.
She agrees, feeling relieved when she’s in my arm’s again, and I make sure to pull her in extra close. Her chest on my arm, stiffening under my touch gives me a welcome rush of heat in my pants.
There are two worried eyes greeting me as soon as we maker our way back into the ballroom.
Fitch, a legal and finance executive I actually trust who’s in charge of bids is shrugging. His eyes bulging.
What the fuck?
Glancing up at the screen, the totals are off the charts, and the announcer is reeling off the bids being matched and then broken by my own.
Bids for Jules.
“Stay here,” I command her. “Stay right here for two seconds.”
In three steps I’m hissing in the lawyer’s ear. “What the hell is happening? Why isn’t she mine? The auction should be over by now.”
He squirms, and checks his own tablet, showing me the bidding.
“Must be hacked. We have IT and security on it, they’re tracing a signal and it’s not coming from the building.
I grab him by the collar, pulling his face an inch from mine. “I don’t give a damn about the money, just make it stop so she’s mine!” I growl, somehow convincing myself if I don’t win the auction I’ll never have Jules.
I let Fitch go, straighten my own tie and head back to Jules, who looks more confused now than anything.
“Not a Karen bid, I hope,” she quips, glancing up at the seven figures on the screen, which are multiplying like the national debt.
I breathe easier, knowing she’s still here. That she’s feeling better.
That’s all I really care about.
“It’s for a good cause,” I assure her, and watching her as she looks up at the screen again, I feel my heart melting in my chest.
I
’m in deep, so deep with Jules and I don’t even think she even knows it.
Yet.
We take our seats again, and the whole room’s buzzing with excitement over the amount raised and exactly who the mystery bidders really are.
All eyes are on me again, people waiting for me to flinch, or to dread having to match the dollar amount bid with my own cash.
Little do they know I’m bidding most of it anyway and it’s all for her.
All for Jules.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the new total, with majority bids for Jules McPherson and her Canning Street soup kitchen charity are… Six million five hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
There’s a thunder of applause, and I watch with a smile as some of those smiling back at me lose theirs.
Like they want to see me give a shit about something as stupid as money.
I’m glad she’s sitting down because once it registers that all those bids are for her, Jules looks pale, like she’s gonna faint.
I pour us both some water, it looks like she could use some.
“Tell me you didn’t bid that much money… because of… me?” she asks, fading by the second.
I’m worried she’s gonna slide off her chair, and I sit down, moving mine closer and holding her up.
Before I can answer, Fitch is in my ear again, his hand on my shoulder, which he snatches back as soon as I stare at it.
“Sorry sir, but we got him. Some kid in Nebraska thought he’d be cute and make you shell out some more of your millions, I guess.”
I stare back blankly, only annoyed that I’m again being interrupted when I’m getting close to Jules.
“We’ve alerted the authorities. We’ll follow up with-”
I wave him away with my hand.
“No. No police, no charges. I’ll make good on the promise of matching the bids,” and turning to face Jules. “I got what I wanted and it’s worth every cent.”
He looks dumbfounded, but he’s gone with another one of my stares asking him why he’s still in front of me.
Twelve, thirteen million, a bargain. And it’s a shoe in for me to take over ownership of Florence’s soup kitchen, followed by the rest of the neighborhood.
Buying a development back from my own company? It’s probably illegal, but if I’m running at a hundred percent loss… Like I said, I’ve got what I came for.
Bidding For Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 208) Page 5