Page 14 of Shared By the Highest Bidder

My heart is pounding, and for a moment, IwantSterling to bury this motherfucker.

It’s hard to figure out who I hate more. Although, hating Michael is ridiculous. I don’t know him. I don’t hate my slimeball clients, I feel nothing for them. They are a means to an end.

I don’t get attached.

I don’t fall in love.

Not anymore.

I stare at the phone in my hand. Bernadette’sphone. The photo on her home screen takes my breath away. It’s a hand-drawn sketch of a blue dress.

The model isn’t sickly thin, either.

My cock hardens, imagining Bernadette’s curvy body in this dress.

I hold up the phone. “One of your designs?”

She nods, her eyes glassy. “It is. It’s my finale piece.”

“What is that?”

“At a fashion show, when a whole line is showcased, it usually ends with a spectacular gown.” She takes the phone from me and smiles at the photo.

Fuck, my heart breaks for her.

What the heck is going on here?

“That blue is so damn vibrant.”

“It’s cerulean.” She gulps more nervous laughter. “It was considered taboo to use that color for a while because it was Yves St. Lauren’s signature shade. Call me a rule-breaker.”

“That photo on your home screen, is it still in your phone?”

“It is. Just this one. I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I take photos of all my sketches? I just loved this one and never imagined the rest would be stolen from me.”

“I was going to ask that.” I’m floored by how she can read my mind.

“I always sketch on paper first. I love picking up colored wax sticks. How they bleed together on paper is second nature to me. I don’t trust colors on a digital screen. I trust my gut. When it’s on the computer, it doesn’t sing to me the way a real drawing does.”

“Sing,” I whisper, drawn to her energy.

“After the sketches were done, I scanned them intothe laptop. Then I created the patterns using special software.”

I lean forward, my throat tight. “Are the sketches still on that software’s servers?”

Her shoulders slump. “No, it’s open source and doesn’t store anything. After I download the patterns, they’re erased.”

Damn, I want this girl to have her dream.

I want that prick, Kinsey, who tried to steal it from her, to rot in jail. But my burning desire to get even with Pratt Sterling wins in the end.

“I’ll represent your ex and make sure to get your drawings back.” I reach out to hold her hand.

Her cautious glare stays on my tattooed fingers. “As long as I auction myself.”

“It’s the easiest way.” I stretch my arm further, wanting to feel her skin.

Nodding, she shakes my hand. With our fingers locked, electricity shoots up my arm. It’s unsettling, so I let go.

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