Page 39 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
Well, only one of them is attainable, so it doesn’t matter.
I glance around, wondering if my mystery man is already here, if he’s seen me yet, and if he’s waiting for me to be alone.
“Are you seriously planning on trying to hook me up with someone tonight?” I ask Taylor, a groan on my breath. “You said this was a charity auction. That wasn’t a lie, right?”
Taylor fixes her necklace with an all-too-smug grin even as she shakes her head, and I know I’m not going to like what she’s going to say.
“I wouldn’t lie about that,” she says, but the pleased glint in her green eyes doesn’t dissipate. “It’s a date auction. All the proceeds are going to a local charity that helps sexual assault survivors get legal representation and mental health services.”
That’s… good, then. It doesn’t explain why she’s still smiling like the cat that got the cream, though.
“What’s a date auction?” I ask suspiciously.
Taylor’s face lights up, telling me I’ve found therealreason we’re here. “They pick random audience members to go up on stage and then people bid for a date. Money goes to charity and you get to go out to a fancy dinner with some rich guy. Win-win!”
Panic slams into me as I rake my eyes over the crowd, the thought of all those eyes on me making my skin crawl.
“What if one of us gets called up?” I ask, looking at her with wide eyes.
What if I have to go up on that stage? What if my mystery man isn’t here at all or doesn’t bid on me? What if I have to go out with some creep?
Taylor reaches over to squeeze my wrist reassuringly, the chill of her gold rings a shock against my skin.
“Deep breath,” she instructs me. “Stop worrying so much. I’m sure they choose the participants before the auction even starts; we’re just here to play the audience. You’ll be fine. Plus, if youdoget called, you can back out whenever you want. Didn’t you read the forms we signed when we came in?”
Theonetime I don’t read a contract from top to bottom, this is what I get.
“I thought it was just, like, normal stuff! You didn’t warn me!”
Taylor cracks a smile, and I can’t help following suit, her easy confidence a soothing balm on my overworked nerves. I just don’t have the energy to stay freaked out right now, and Taylor’sprobably right. She knows more about this kind of thing than I do, considering she has an actual social life and isn’t painfully shy about everything.
Besides, maybe my masked manwillactually show up. Excitement consumes me as I glance around. He hasn’t texted me back, but I allow myself to hope anyway. Getting to spend some time with him again would definitely be a good way to relax, even if we don’t do anything but talk. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone whose face I don’t even know, especially when I talk to him every day, but it’s just not the same as standing next to him.
Before I have a chance to ream Taylor out any further, the man who was taking tickets at the door steps up on stage, a spotlight falling on him.
It casts his olive skin in a perfect glow, highlighting the casual grace with which he moves as he makes his way behind the podium at the other end of the stage. His smile is wide and energetic, the gold and black mask on his face eye-catching under the lights.
He adjusts the microphone on the podium before spreading his arms in welcome.
“Thank you all for coming out to The Echelon tonight,” he says, scanning the crowd and letting his eyes linger on Taylor for a moment before going back to his speech. “We have a few very special guests of honor with us from the Angel Foundation, and all proceeds from the auction will be going straight to their amazing organization. We’ve also got a tip booth in the back if you want to donate or find ways to get involved. They’re wonderful folks who truly care about the community theysupport. If you can spare a few bucks—and I know you all can—spread the wealth to a good cause.”
Polite laughs and a smattering of applause meet his brief speech, and he claps his hands together in excitement.
“Now, let’s get this show on the road! Our first contestant is,” he draws out the word, ruffling around dramatically in a glass bowl full of tickets, “ticket holder 40625! Please make your way up to the stage if you’d like to participate in the auction.”
The first person to be called up is an Asian woman with willowy limbs in a skin-tight white dress and heels all the way up to the sky. She receives a few claps and a low whistle of interest, glancing out at the audience with a smirk on her painted lips as she takes her spot on the stage.
The next few all look vastly different, a mix of shapes and sizes, different races, and different genders. Two of the people whose numbers get called decline to go up, and no one bats an eye. I guess Taylor’s comment about being able to back out is to be trusted. I start to relax as numbers keep getting called, a truly random mix of people lining the stage as the man behind the podium reads off tickets.
Maybe thiswillbe fun to watch. Everyone up there certainly looks excited, and it’s not like I’ve ever seen anything like this before.
“And for our final contestant!” He reaches straight into the bowl and pulls out a ticket without a moment’s hesitation, sharp blue eyes fixing on someone behind me and sending them a wink before he reads off the number. “Ticket holder 41137! Please make your way up if you’d like to participate.”
I glance down at my ticket out of habit, sure that the number will be different than the one called. My heart sinks as I read over it once, twice, and a third time.
It’s the same.
Taylor snatches the ticket up when she catches sight of the look on my face, nearly squealing in excitement.
