Page 7 of Bought by His Brother's Best Friend

He looked up as I approached, his expression an intriguing mix of gratitude and wariness.

“Twenty grand is a lot for a dinner with your friend’s brother,” he said when I reached him, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders.

“It’s for a good cause.” I signaled the bartender. “Macallan 25, neat.”

Shane raised an eyebrow and let out a slow whistle. “Pricey.”

“I think I can afford it even after dropping twenty thousand on dinner.” I accepted the whiskey from the bartender with a nod of thanks. “Besides, I’m celebrating an excellent investment.”

That drew a surprised laugh from him, easing some of the awkwardness between us. “Is that what I am? An investment?”

“The foundation certainly thinks so.” I took a sip of my scotch, appreciating the smooth burn. “You saved their evening.”

“I think that was you.” He looked down at his drink, then back up at me with those warm hazel eyes. “Thank you for that, by the way. That was... pretty mortifying until you stepped in.”

“It shouldn’t have been. You’re every bit as auction-worthy as anyone else on that stage.”

A hint of color touched his cheeks. “That’s kind of you to say, but we both know people came to bid on Tyler, not his less-famous brother.”

“Their loss.” I held his gaze until he glanced away, clearly unused to direct compliments. “How is Tyler? Besides being stranded by weather.”

“He’s good. Frustrated about missing tonight, but the team’s having a strong season.” Shane visibly relaxed discussing his brother. “He mentioned you two had dinner last month when he was in Seattle.”

“We did. He talked about you the whole time—how you negotiated that equipment endorsement deal for him.” I smiled, remembering Tyler’s enthusiastic praise. “He said you’re the best agent in the business.”

“He’s biased.”

“He’s right.”

Shane ducked his head, uncomfortable with the praise but pleased, nonetheless. “Speaking of business, how’s yours? Tyler mentioned something about European expansion?”

I nodded, appreciating his attempt to shift the conversation away from himself. “We’re opening offices in Paris and Frankfurt. In fact, I’m flying to Paris tonight to finalize some details.”

“Tonight?” He looked surprised. “When do you sleep?”

“On the plane.” I grinned. “The beauty of private aviation—no security lines or crying babies.”

Shane shook his head with a small smile. “The lives of the obscenely wealthy continue to mystify me.”

“It’s not so mysterious. Just more convenient.” I took another sip of my scotch, studying him over the rim of my glass. “When I get back, we should schedule our... date.” I deliberately paused before the word, watching his reaction.

His eyes widened. “Right. The auction. Look, Damien, you don’t actually have to follow through. You’ve already done more than enough by making such a generous donation.”

“Are you trying to get out of our arrangement?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

“No, I just...” He ran a finger around the rim of his glass, around and around, a nervous gesture I found endearing. “I know this was just you being nice because no one else was bidding. You don’t have to waste an evening on a charity obligation.”

There it was—the assumption that I’d bid out of pity or obligation. I set my glass down and took a step closer, close enough to notice the faint woodsy scent of his cologne.

“Shane,” I said quietly, “if I wanted to make a donation, I would have written a check. I bid because I wanted to have dinner with you.”

His expression shifted from skepticism to something more complex. “Oh.”

“In fact,” I continued, a spontaneous idea taking shape, “I have a suggestion about our arrangement.”

“What kind of suggestion?” Wariness crept back into his voice.

“As I mentioned, I’m flying to Paris tonight for business.” I held his gaze steadily. “Come with me.”

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