Page 17 of Alphas Like Us
I have aboyfriend.
I’m the only one up for bid that’s committed to another person. Guilt already gnaws at my insides. But with Ernest as CEO, my family’s wealth inside the philanthropy is atrisk.
I’m caught in a moral web between family and love, and I’m wondering how those two missed an intersection and when they started running in oppositedirections.
“What are you thinking?” Farrow whispers while the auctioneer repeats a few technical details about bidding.s
I stare faraway in thought. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to choose between my company and the guy I love.” I look right at him. “Real or rumor?” SFO say that a lot, especially when we were ontour.
Real orrumor.
His eyes caress mine. “Rumor. This auction is a pseudo-fake thing, wolf scout, and what you and I have is real. Whoever bids on you isn’t a threat to me.” His brows arch. “Bluntly, you’renotcheating on me by going up there, and you can’t walk away from this. It’ll kill you not totry.”
Yeah.
But what if trying kills metoo?
“Maximoff Hale,” the auctioneer with slicked hair and spectacles calls me up to the podium, and two-thousand eyes fix onme.
3
FARROW KEENE
As I retracemy path up the aisle, headed towards Omega, Maximoff climbs the few stairs to thestage.
Stoic, unbending, and undeniably striking, he stands beside the podium like a 15thcentury sculpture, body and jaw carved from marble. And the affluent crowd is about to bid on the modern, real-life version of Michelangelo’sDavid.
He’smine.
I don’t love him because he’s a coveted piece of art to the thousands here and the millions outside. I love him because he’s so pure it hurts, so moral it aches, and so strong-willed it kills me not to speak to him, not to be near him, not to look at him or to protecthim.
Velveteen seats squeak, bodies shifting to open purses and reach in pockets for a remote device called aclicker.The auction is electronic, no hand raising or numbershoisted.
My boots feelheavier.
Each step is cumbersome and barbed as I put more distance between me and the stage. Instinct saysturn around, don’t leavehim.
Don’t leavehim.
I fight the urge to rotate, race towards the stage, climb up and kiss the fuck out of Maximoff. My jaw tics, and I stuff my hands in the pockets of myslacks.
I’m not losinghim.
I’m not really leaving him. What I said was true: this isn’t real, but shit, the desertion is a kind of torment I’ve never experienced. It bites at my heels as I walk away and let him do thisalone.
Since I’m not his personal bodyguard at this event, I can’t be a part of the “night” portion of anight with a celebrity. The “night” is planned one week from now. At a location Ernest hasn’t disclosed yet. And I have to trust Bruno to protect Maximoffthere.
Unless I can win himmyself.
I pull a clicker out of my pocket. I already registered my information and bank account, and this is my attempt to prevent bad shit fromhappening.
I reach SFO, and no one seems surprised that I went “rogue” and chose my boyfriend over door-duty. It’s not just me being a maverick. If that’d been their own client, they’d be hard-pressed to say they wouldn’t do thesame.
Akara spins his phone in his hand; he’d be tenser if Sulli, his client, were participating in the auction. “I can’t vouch for you anymore with Alpha,” he tells me. “It’s not sticking, and we’re in a spot where Omega has lessleeway.”
I nod. “Okay.” I can’t say I’ll change my actions, but I’d rather Akara notput his neck on the line for me. I can take all theheat.
Oscar motions me forward, about the same time I slip between Donnelly and him. I face the stage, and my stomachoverturns.
