Page 108 of Fake Out Hearts

“We’re off to a good start,” Becca whispers as she takes another sip of her wine. I’m not surprised something like that raised so much money, but I am kind of surprised we’d start with something that high value. Usually they start with the least interesting things and work their way up.

The attendant walks off the stage with the hockey stick in their gloved hands, and another replaces them, pushing a photo of a dancer on a large easel. “Next, we have a set of three private dance lessons with Becca Summers, the wife of the Aces’ Theo Camden,” the auctioneer says, and I almost drop my wine glass.

“You didn’t tell me you were auctioning off lessons!” I say, and Becca shrugs.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I chuckle, a burst of pride filling my chest. “Well, consider me surprised. Now I know why you were so insistent about getting here on time.”

“Are you upset?”

“What? No way. I think it’s sweet of you,” I say, and I mean it. She’s always so selfless, so giving. It’s one of the things I love the most about her. And she’s helping raise money to fund the next crop of NHL players, so what is there to be upset about?

“We’ll start the bidding at one hundred dollars,” the auctioneer says, and a paddle a few rows ahead of us shoots into the air. But when the person holding it turns around, wearing an all-too-familiar grin, I almost launch out of my chair.

It’s Kaplan.

“Is he fucking serious?” I mutter and thrust my paddle in the air to counter his bid. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but if he thinks I’m going to let him be alone with Becca for even one second, he’s in for a rude fucking awakening.

“We’re off to the races! I have one thousand dollars. Do I have one thousand five hundred?”

Surprising no one, Kaplan counters my bid. Thankfully, everyone in the room seems to know better than to get involved, so Kaplan and I devolve into a bidding war over Becca. I don’t give a damn what the price amounts to. I’ll spend every dime I have if it means keeping her away from him, and Kaplan must know it because he’s not afraid to keep driving the price up.

“I have five thousand, do I have five thousand five hundred?” the auctioneer asks, and I shoot my paddle into the air. Becca rests her hand on my leg, silently begging me to make this stop, but there’s nothing I can do other than keep bidding. As much as I hate it, Kaplan’s as entitled to bid on her dance lessons as anyone else is.

“I have six thousand, six thousand!” the auctioneer announces as Kaplan’s paddle streaks across the air again. “Do I have six thousand five hundred?”

“Eight thousand,” I shout, pumping my paddle in the air and causing a gasp to ripple through the crowd of people. They probably think I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have. But I don’t care. I don’t give a single shit what any of them think or what they have to say. The only thing that matters to me is protecting Becca, at any cost.

“I have eight thousand! This is turning into quite the hot commodity, folks! Do I have eight thousand five hundred?”

“Nine thousand!” Kaplan shouts, and another gasp tears through the crowd. I glance over at Becca and find tears in her eyes, which only makes me want to launch out of my seat and pummel Kaplan to bloody bits with his stupid fucking paddle. Atwhat point will he give it up? He has to know I won’t back down, not over this.

“Three hundred thousand!” I shout back, and when yet another gasp spreads through the crowd like a virus, I realize I’ve jumped to my feet. Even from this far back from the stage, I see the auctioneer’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Three hundred thousand, I have three hundred thousand dollars for private dance lessons with Becca Summers! That’s quite a bid. Do I have three hundred and one thousand?” he asks, and I tense as I wait for Kaplan to counterbid.

But nothing happens.

“Do I have three hundred and one thousand?” the auctioneer asks again but gets no response. The room is tense and silent. “Three hundred thousand, going once. Three hundred thousand, going twice…”

My fists clench so hard that I swear I can feel the wooden handle of the paddle crack in my grip as I wait, ready to bid again if need be. I’ll spend every goddamn dollar I have to make sure Becca doesn’t have to spend another second with her asshole of an ex.

“Sold, to Mr. Theo Camden!” the auctioneer finally announces to a polite round of applause.

I sink back down into my seat, possessive satisfaction filling me. When Kaplan spins in his seat, he performatively claps for me, a smug expression on his face. I’m just about to jump over every row of chairs separating us like a crazed track athlete when Becca’s hand finds mine.

“It’s over,” she whispers. “It’s over. Let it go.”

Chapter 33

Becca

Relief floods me as the tension dissipates, and I wilt against Theo’s shoulder to fight back the tears stinging in the corners of my eyes.

He just blew three hundred thousand dollars just to spite Shawn. I’m glad he did—I would sooner move back to Canada than spend another moment with my ex, especially after his TV show stunt—but it’s still hard to believe Theo was willing to take things that far.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as the auctioneer moves on to the next item, but Theo lifts my chin up with his thumb to stare into my eyes. His own eyes are blazing.

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