Page 12 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

When the auctioneer starts the bidding with a figure, I don’t even think. My hand grabs the digital bidding paddle, my thumb hovering over the screen. There’s a beat of silence. Someone else from across the hall places a bid first. The number jumps, and my pulse thunders in my ears. I shoot a quick glance at Nico, who’s watching me with raised eyebrows.Don’t you dare.He doesn’t say it out loud, but I know him.

Screw it. I tap the screen, placing a bid.

The auctioneer’s voice echoes. “We have a bid from number 153. Do I hear?—?”

Before he finishes, another new bid surfaces, pushing the price higher. My eyes flick to Sal, who’s now leaning forward, his phone in hand. He just outbid me by a margin large enough to get the crowd stirring. The corner of his mouth twitches in a half smile.

I’m about to snark at him when Nico, grumbling something under his breath, also puts in a bid. It’s as if the three of usare locked into some bizarre sibling rivalry—except the prize is a literal person standing onstage, looking petrified and beautiful. The adrenaline in me spikes, as if I’m about to jump off a cliff in a wingsuit.

I am going to win this.

The next minute is a frenzy of digits flashing on the screen, counterbids from around the hall, and the three of us escalating. It’s not just us. Others join in. I can’t stop; every time someone else tries to sneak in, I raise it higher. Sal does the same, quietly, methodically. Nico curses under his breath but keeps clicking the paddles.

Tabitha’s gaze sweeps the crowd, obviously unable to see who’s bidding. She steps back slightly, lips parted, looking a mixture of stunned and maybe hopeful? It’s hard to tell from here, but I swear I catch a flicker of relief on her face each time the numbers climb. She needs this money. I recall her anxious vibe at the bistro. This must be why she’s here. My chest tightens for reasons I can’t entirely parse.

Within moments, the bid has soared to a brain-melting figure, but I can’t bring myself to let it go. Something about her, the way she’s trembling but resolute, tugs at me. Sal places another bid, and I up it. Nico ups that. My heart races, and I find myself borderline panting like a dog chasing a rabbit. This is insane. But I’mintoit.

7

NICO

Dante is knownfor his impulsivity. He’s spent half his life leaping off cliffs and diving into shark-infested waters. But tonight, I feel dangerously close to spontaneous. The second the tall redhead stepped onto the stage, my gut clenched with an unfamiliar kind of urgency:I want her.

Time to bring this to a close. I lean in so I can say this quietly. “I want her. But I’ll share. Let’s not keep digging ourselves deeper for this.”

Sal arches a brow but nods. “You sure about sharing?”

“Yes. Brotherly bonding time, remember?”

He sits back, while Dante raises a brow, surprised at me, I suppose. I murmur to him, “That asshole in the back has the high bid. Up it big, and let’s finish this.”

He nods once and puts in a bid that flusters Tabitha. Finally, the auctioneer lifts his gavel. “Going once…going twice…sold! To—” He checks his screen. “Paddle 153. Congratulations.”

Thank fuck.

I won. Technically, all three of us won, assuming Dante doesn’t go back on his word about sharing her. A wave of realization crashes over me, and I slowly lower my phone, hands shaking. The crowd applauds politely, though some folks nearby glance our way, probably trying to puzzle out who we are behind our masks. That’s the last thing we need right now.

Tabitha stands there, chest heaving, eyes wide with what looks like disbelief. The staffer at her elbow gently guides her offstage. I can practically feel the adrenaline lighting me up from the inside. The high is ridiculous.

No wonder Dante does stupid shit like this for fun. It’s a rush. But reality has an ugly way of popping up when I don’t want it to. I mutter to myself, “What did we just do?”

Dante laughs, breathless. “We bought a virgin for a month. Collectively, apparently.”

Sal sits back in his seat. “Unless you’d like to find one for your very own, Nico.”

I am very close to dissociating. This was reckless, and what’s to come is even more so. But I can’t tell myself no. It’s as though there’s a magnet drawing me to that girl. “No. I want her.”

And not just as some casual fling. I want toownevery whispered moment of this so-called month-long arrangement. Which is absurd, because I don’t know her. She could be a terrible person. She might have an irritating laugh or be squeamish about kink or any other complication.

Doesn’t matter. Sometimes you just have to know for yourself.

My brothers and I are hustled to a private lounge near the back of The Armory, a hush of velvet curtains and low-slunglighting. My mind races with the consequences of what we just did, but I’m not feeling regret, merely working out the possible consequences.

The staff has scattered, leaving us alone for a moment. Sal stands to one side, arms folded over his broad chest, while Dante hovers near the door, restless energy rolling off him. My pulse thuds in my ears. I tug at my collar, too warm for comfort.

“I want her,” I say abruptly, not bothering with niceties. “I never agreed to the month-long arrangement, but if we’re doing it, I’m staking a claim onthisone.”

Dante’s eyebrows shoot up, and he gives a half laugh. “And I don’t? You heard me mention the girl at the bistro, right? I saw her first. That means I have dibs.”

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