Page 3 of Daddy

Declan follows my gaze, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Yeah, he is. Layla said he was the easiest to convince. He practically jumped at the opportunity to be one of tonight’s bachelors.”

I take another sip of the watered-down whiskey swirling in my glass, letting the burn distract me from the sudden knot in my stomach. My eyes dart back to Jorge, and for a second, I forget to breathe. He always looks good, but tonight… That damn tuxedo was made for him. The dark fabric contrasts so perfectly with his olive skin while accentuating the sparkle in his cognac eyes. He’s impossible not to stare at.

Always the outgoing social butterfly, he’s talking to a couple of the other bachelors waiting. The guy standing next to him laughs at something Jorge says, and for a second, I feel a pang in my gut.Jealousy.A level that I didn’t even know I was capable of. My eyes narrow when Jorge laughs in return, his lips curling in that mischievous way that makes him so… irresistible.

“Are you planning to bid?” Declan asks quietly, pulling me from my thoughts.

“No,” I answer quickly, a reactionary response.

Raising a brow, his gaze flicks between me and Jorge like he can read my thoughts. “Are you sure?”No, I’m not.Unable to pull my attention from Jorge, I shake my head in answer to Declan’s question.

It’s ridiculous.Aterribleidea. I have no business bidding on a gorgeous man nearly fifteen years my junior. Besides, even if I won… I’d never have the nerve to do any of the things I’ve spent countless nights fantasizing about. He’s far too perfect to put myself out there like that… To consider letting him see me… To risk the possibility of watching his face show how appalled he is.

I need something to cool this anxious fire burning in my veins. As I swallow the last of the whiskey, I draw the remnants of an ice cube into my mouth. Angrily chomping on it, I try to distract myself from the fact that Jorge could be won by any of these men. He dates plenty, and I know it—but I’ve never had toseeit before. And knowing that will change tonight makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

I glance back at Jorge—my chest tightening again—and I know I can’t watch this unfold.

No one else can have him.

CHAPTERFOUR

JORGE

In all the years I’ve been here, I’ve never seen the club quite like this.Well, maybe the night Finn hunted Cat…The entire place is buzzing with excitement, and everyone is dressed to the nines.Especially the men.All of them in well-tailored tuxedos with perfectly coiffed hair—even Rory. It’s a far cry from his normal appearance, but it suits him.

Standing beside Layla, I feel both out of place and in my element. Of course, the wine she’s been sneaking me all night has kept my nerves at bay.Well, it was…Having to go after watching Conor sell for far more than anyone else this evening has my stomach suddenly fluttering with nerves.

Breathe, Jorge.

Running my hand through my hair, I smooth it back. Trying to soothe my anxiety.

“You’re next,” Layla chirps, stepping before me.

I force a smile and mutter, “Okay…”

Adjusting my bow tie, she stares up at me and curiously tilts her head. “Why do you look so nervous all of a sudden?”

A nervous chuckle rattles from me before I answer. “Oh, I don’t. Something about following a half-million-dollar bid makes you worry you’re gonna go for the price of a happy-hour beer.”

She lightly slaps my arm and rolls her eyes, laughing. “Please. You’re hot as hell, sweetie. You’ve had men checking you out all night.”

“They might be looking, but that doesn’t mean they’ll actually buy.” I shoot her a dry smile. “I’ll probably be tonight’s bargain bin option.”

Like the poor disheartened guy slinking off the stage for two thousand dollars.

“You’renotthe bargain bin, sweetie. Trust me.” She places a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth as Tristan announces my name, calling me to the stage. I take a step and a sting radiates across my ass. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

Shaking my head at her, I can’t help but chuckle as I walk toward the stage. When I step onto the podium, I immediately feel the burn of all eyes on me—my nerves quickly morphing into a curious excitement.

“Jorge is a fun, charismatic guy with sharp wit and a bit of a bratty streak.” Tristan’s voice booms through the speakers as he winks at me. I roll my eyes and pretend to flip my hair over my shoulder, only proving his statement. “He needs a little taming, but I’m sure one of you is the right man for the challenge.”

The bidding starts, and it’s a blur—two hands shooting up almost at once. One is a man about my age—at most in his early thirties—fit, handsome, with a rugged jawline and searing green eyes. The other is an older man with silver hair and a well-maintained beard. He oozes sophistication and experience, and the look in his soft brown eyes tells me he knowsexactlywhat he wants.

The number climbs fast, raising thousands of dollars with every fling of a paddle into the air. The two of them literally fighting with each other to win me. My mind wanders, pondering how each of them would like to collect their winnings. How very differently I imagine that for each of them.

“Seventy-five thousand,” a deep and familiar voice shouts from across the room. It takes me a second to register it as I scan the crowd in the direction it came from. When I do, I nearly freeze.

Rory McLaughlin.

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