Page 5 of Sweetest Revenge

I recognized it as the manager of the girls. My stomach flipped.

Can I really do this?

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, catching my blue eyes in the mirror.

“I can do this,” I whispered. For Mother. For Father.

For me.

I turned and opened the door.

Dante Sinclair met me with a shocked expression and a low whistle.

“Looking gorgeous, my love,” he said and held out an arm for me.

I took it and let him lead me out.

My face was heated at his compliment. When my family still had money, Dante and I ran in the same circles. The son of a billionaire who’d paved his own way was the talk of all moms with eligible daughters.

It didn’t hurt that he was hot.

With black hair, deep brown eyes, dimples, and a warm personality, it was hard not to love him.

Why he had ended up working at the auction and not owning part of it was lost on me. And a bit embarrassing, since someone from my old life knew me, but he was too sweet for me to feel ashamed around him for long.

“I bet you say that to all the women under your care,” I teased.

He sent me a smile that showed his dimples.

“Now that remains to be seen, but trust me when I say you’re going to be the talk of the party.”

My stomach churned, and my grip on him tightened. The music got louder as we closed in on the door.

He let out a laugh.

“No need to be nervous,” he said. “Remember, they won’t touch you. If they recognize you, they contractually can’t say shit. Hell, if you want to stay silent the entire night, you can, but the more you mingle, and the more they like you, the higher the chance you’ll start a bidding war.”

I took another deep breath.

“And we want that,” I muttered.

Correction: we needed that. The more money I got, the easier I could pay off the massive medical bill.

As it would turn out, bringing someone back to life and taking care of them while they were in a coma sucked up hospital resources and left me with hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

Because Mother had no insurance. Father took care of that with his company when he was alive; now, there was no one to help, and I couldn’t afford to get her a plan.

“Yes, you do,” he replied and squeezed my shoulders.

“What if I can’t get in?” I whispered, fear clawing at me. I might have been invited to the welcome party, but there was always a chance they wouldn’t pick me for the auction.

It all depended on the next hour and on how people felt about me.

He gave my shoulder another squeeze. “Go wow them, A. I know you can do it.” And with that, he pushed me toward the door.

I forced all the worries from my mind and stepped into the party.

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