Page 92 of Twisted Shot
Which is, of course, exactly when Naomi’s voice slices through the moment like stilettos on a church floor.
“Mila, babe. I love this for you. Truly.”
Her voice filters through the curtain, full of reluctant amusement.
“And I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got a situation with the silent auction.”
Mila groans, breaking the kiss and pressing her forehead into Theo’s neck. His body hums against hers, his tie askew, lips red and kiss-bruised, hair adorably tousled. He looks like someone who’s been halfway to heaven—and was rerouted through event management hell.
Naomi peeks around the curtain with one hand covering her eyes. “Is everyone decent, or do I need to come back with a fire extinguisher?”
“We’re decent,” Mila mumbles, dragging herself upright as every molecule in her body screams in protest.
Naomi lowers her hand and grins like a woman who’s discovered a juicy secret. “Enjoying yourselves?”
Theo bites back a smile. Mila glares at her so-called friend. “Naomi.”
Naomi flips her tablet around. “Someone’s messing with us. One bidder has placed absurd amounts on nearly every item. I’m talking ahundred grand on box seats, monopoly money numbers. It’s screwing with the whole system.”
Mila frowns. “That shouldn’t be possible. People have to log in with verified info. Their name, payment info, the whole thing.”
Naomi nods. “Exactly. But this one signed in under the name Porky Pig.”
Theo’s spine snaps rigid, like a marionette yanked taut by invisible strings.
Mila immediately steps in front of him, protective instinct flaring. “That’s not funny.”
“We need to find out who it is,” Naomi continues, vexed.
“No need,” Theo says quietly from the shadows.
“It’s my brother,” he says, eyes dark. “Conrad.”
Even in the dim light, Mila can see the change in him. The way all that warmth, the vulnerable glow from before, drains from his face. His mouth flattens. His eyes sharpen. Shoulders tense.
He looks like someone who’s just been kicked in the chest.
She reaches for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “Why would he do that?”
“To fuck with me,” Theo says, bitter and sharp. “He always finds a way. That’s what he used to call me when we were kids. Because of the...”
He can’t finish. Doesn’t have to.
Mila’s heart splinters.
She’s seen him quiet. She’s seen him guarded. But this? This is different. The shame in his voice. The way his shoulders hunch, like he’s trying to disappear. Like he half-believes he deserves it.
It makes her want to scream.
He pulls his hand from hers and turns slightly, jaw tight.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I mess everything up.”
“No,” she says firmly, placing her hands gently on his chest, grounding him. “Theo, this is not your fault. This is him.”
He looks at her, and her heart twists painfully. His eyes are dark and hollow, haunted by words he won’t speak aloud, festering quietly beneath the surface. All she wants is to reach for him, to pull him intoher arms and bury him against her chest, to stand like a wall between him and the world that never gave him a fair chance.
“Naomi, how much did he bid?”
