To the Highest Bidder

by Clare Connelly

  Aurora could no longer meet his contempt. She closed her eyes as memories of the week they’d spent on his island swirled in her gut. Making love in the warm, shallow water at the pristine shoreline; eating local delicacies in bed, all day long; lounging around, completely naked, by the pool. She sipped from her champagne again, and for the first time in years, felt like she needed to drink more than was wise. That she needed something to blot out the pain.

  She reached for the bottle and was relieved to see it was empty. “I’ll go get another,” she said without looking at any of them.

  “I’ll help you.” Alec was apparently very willing to be pulled into the role he was being cast – attentive would-be lover.

  “No, that’s fine.” Aurora needed to be alone. She softened her swift rebuke with an encouraging smile. “You stay here and take the wedding hit for both of us, huh?” Would she have reached down and run her fingers over his shoulder if Leonardo hadn’t been watching with blistering indolence? No. But he was, and so she did.

  Though the bar was packed, people seemed to part for Aurora. She hadn’t modelled in years, but her face, and figure were still famous the world over. That swimsuit magazine cover had burned her into the nation’s consciousness; the British model who’d become an icon of the summer swimsuit scene. She ran a hand through her long, fair hair and smiled distractedly at one of the men behind the bar.

  He appeared, in a flash, his eyes raking her face as recognition kicked in. “I thought it was you,” he said with wide-eyed surprise. “Aurora Jones.”

  “That’s me,” she summoned a grin, but she felt claustrophobic suddenly. Too many people were pressing on her, and her history with Leo was some kind of inescapable weight on her chest. She ordered a champagne and handed over her credit card. “I’ll come back to get it in a moment, okay?”

  “No need, Aurora. I’ll take it to your table.” His eyes swept down her face, to her cleavage, adding to the sense that she was being squashed alive.

  She moved away from the bar with a small nod of thanks, her face pale, her eyes showing her pain. It was October, and the Autumnal night was fiercely cold. Aurora had dressed for her best friend’s engagement party as people expected her to, in a stunning couture slip that was glamorous but brief. As a rush of ice wind blew past her, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She wished she still smoked, but that was another habit she’d given up years ago. Along with boozy nights out, modelling, and gorgeous boyfriends with a sado-masochistic death wish.

  When she returned to the table, ten minutes later, Leonardo was still there. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or secretly thrilled, but her body was awash with emotions.

  Alec reached over and topped up her champagne for her, earning a flicker of disapproval from Leonardo. It sent a shiver of immature pleasure down Aurora’s spine. If she could annoy Leonardo, so much the better. She lifted the glass in a silent cheer and drained more than half of it. “Is there anything better than champagne?” She felt emboldened to ask.

  “Aurora only drinks champagne,” Beatrice leaned forward and explained to Alec. “The fancier the better.”

  “I seem to recall she drinks Prosecco also,” Leonardo interjected smoothly, earning not a flicker of response from anyone but Aurora. After all, no one else would remember the way he’d poured it over her naked body and used his tongue to chase the bubbling liquid.

  “I’ll make do with Prosecco, if I must, but champagne is far more my thing,” she said with a cold note to her voice. “And it’s probably better if we stick to talking about the wedding, rather than my drinking preferences.”

  He bent his head forward, and said so that only she could hear him, “Your drinking preference right now seems to be anything that gets you hammered.”

  “Funny,” she murmured back. “I haven’t felt the need to drink myself into oblivion since I saw you last.”

  His smile was both dark and dismissive. He turned his full attention back to Beatrice and gave every appearance of being interested in the planning for the wedding.

  Aurora finished her champagne and stood, needing to press her fingers into the table’s wood-grain surface to steady herself. “Bea, I’m going to circulate.”

  Beatrice nodded. “I’m surprise you made it this far into wedding detail talk.”

  “So am I.” Aurora’s smile was solely for her best friend. “Excuse me.”

  “Is she okay?” Alec asked, looking after the supermodel-turned-fashion-blogger with a concerned expression.

  “Oh, she’s fine.” Beatrice waved a hand through the air. “She might look like a breeze could carry her away but Aurora’s got party girl training that puts anyone to shame. She can drink a soldier under the table and still have what appears to be a straight up sober conversation.”

  Only Aurora hadn’t had more than an occasional glass of wine in years, and the three champagnes she’d pounded back in rapid succession had made her feel distinctly woozy. Seeing Leo again compounded that sensation.

  “Having a good night?”

  She squinted at the man, to ascertain that he was, in fact, speaking to her. He was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.

  “I’m the barman,” he smiled, his face pleasing, his manner acceptable.

  “Yes, of course,” she nodded.

  “You look like you’re celebrating.”

  “My best friend just got engaged,” she said with a frown.

  “You don’t like the guy?”

  “What?” She blinked, her eyes blurred.

  “You frowned just now.”

  “Oh, right.” She shook her head. “No. I just didn’t expect her to sign her life away on the dotted line.”

  “Not a fan of marriage?”

  She had been, at one time. Aurora frowned. “I’m not making sense. I’m really… tired.” Drunk, more like.

  She blinked again. “Excuse me.” She looked around the bar, a sea of people, and only one that drew her eye.

  He was looking at her. Angrily. No. Furiously. Good. “On second thoughts,” she said to the barman, “I might have another drink. For the road.”

  “I’m glad.” His smile now was unmistakably touched with seductive purpose. He poured a glass of Billecart-Salmon and handed it to her. “On the house.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she demurred, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bank note. “Here.”

  He waved her money away. “It’s just a glass of champagne.”

  “Is it?” She smiled dubiously. There had been a time, after leaving Leonardo, when she’d excelled at the party scene. Meeting men had been a nightly affair. If that brief stint had taught her anything, it was that a glass of champagne was rarely just a drink.

  “For now.” He responded quietly, answering her silent question.

  She sipped the champagne, aware that Leonardo’s dark eyes still clung to her. “Have you worked here long?”

  She felt nauseous and dizzy.

  “A year, give or take.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s a job,” he shrugged.

  “You’re Irish?”

  “Very good.” He leaned closer to her, so that she could smell the faint tang of his aftershave. “Why did you give up modelling?”

  She looked down at the bubbles in her glass, watching as they fizzed and burst against the edges. “I grew out of it.”

  His laugh was coarse. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She swallowed. Even in her state of inebriation, she could tell the situation was getting out of hand. “Thank you.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “No.” She flashed him a look of curiosity. “Do you hit on all your customers?”

  “Just the ex-models,” he said with a wink and a cheeky shrug.

  “I’m flattered.”

  He laughed again. “I get off in an hour. Want to wait around and I’ll… give you a lift home?”

  How simple it would have been to accep
t his offer. To put a band-aid over the pain that seeing Leonardo had ripped raw. “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t wait around an hour. I have to go.”

  He opened his mouth to attempt another path of persuasion but she shook her head. “I’m really tipsy.” She pushed away from him. “Sorry.”

  “You seem fine to me.”

  “She said no.” Leonardo. Aurora froze, her body stiff.

  “I heard her.” The barman lifted his hands in surrender. “I heard her.”

  “Did you? Because I heard you attempting to change a very drunk woman’s mind.”

  “Hey!” Aurora spun around slightly unsteadily. “I am not very drunk.”

  His expression was thunderous, as he grabbed one of her arms. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Do not make a scene, Aurora,” he muttered wearily. “By now the paparazzi will have been alerted to the fact that you and I are here. Let’s slip out quietly.”

  She stared up at him, and again felt as though she was slipping back through time. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

  “Believe me, it’s mutual, but someone has to make sure you get home safe, and I don’t think it’s fair to expect my sister to leave her own celebration, do you?”

  Aurora bit down on the snappy reply she’d been about to make. Her eyes drifted to Beatrice, who was happily engaged in conversation with Alec and Peter.

  “No,” she conceded mutinously.

  Leo nodded, his face without pleasure. He began to guide Aurora through the bar, pausing only to drawl to the bartender, “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, she’s a lot more trouble than she’s worth.”

  Aurora lost her footing in surprise and hurt. Leonardo reached out and grabbed her around the waist, his fingers firm at her sides.

  “Let me go,” she demanded, not able to meet his eyes.

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Aurora. As soon as you’re back at your apartment, I will be thrilled to walk away from you.”

  Irrationally, tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked at them furiously. “You don’t need to take me to my apartment. Just help me find a cab.”

  “Yeah, right. So you can lurch into another bar along the way? And then what? Another sleazy barman’s bed?”

  A bright red Ferrari was parked on a double yellow line in front of the bar.

  “Let me guess,” she snapped, walking with his help towards the car. “Yours.”

  He compressed his lips. “Get in.”

  She turned to face him, and Leonardo sucked in a deep breath. She might be a cold-hearted bitch, but she was, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Now, slightly softened by alcohol, with her signature hair left to fall as a silken blonde mane down her back, her blue eyes wide like saucers, and her lips pouted, he recalled what had first attracted him to her.

  “Were you always such a dictatorial bastard?”

  He tamped down on his frustration. “Yes. I think you used to like it about me. Get in.”

  She huffed with exaggerated frustration but eased herself into the leather bucket seat. It was as luxurious as she’d expected.

  “Nice car,” she muttered disapprovingly, when he’d joined her in the prestige vehicle.

  He nodded. “It’s custom.”

  She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Of course it is.”

  He pulled out into traffic and revved the engine. It pulsed with a deep, powerful throb that perfectly suited the man behind the wheel. Aurora reached out and gripped the handle on her door. She’d never liked fast cars, but having seen what they could do to a person first-hand, she now had a particular loathing for travelling at speed.

  “You’re not racing now,” she whispered, her face pale.

  He tilted her a begrudgingly amused look. “No, I’m not.” His eyes searched her face, surprised to realise that she seemed genuinely afraid. He slowed the car a little. “Are you still at the same flat?”

  She nodded.

  He took the roads as though they were burned into his brain. For someone who travelled around the world, he was annoyingly au fait with the back streets of London. It took him no time at all to travel from Brixton to Canary Wharf. He pulled up in a loading zone near the entrance.

  Ten minutes had done a lot to ease the fog in her mind, but nothing to calm the adrenalin that was pulsing through her. She reached for her seat belt clasp at the same time he did. Their fingers connected and she flinched in her seat, earning a glare of reproach from him.

  “What’s the matter? You were about to go home with that barman but you’re jumping out of your skin because our hands touched?”

  She swallowed nervously. “I was not about to go home with him,” she said unevenly.

  “If I hadn’t interrupted, you’d be banging him right now.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the accusation, and shame swirled in her gut, for the sheer reason that he might have had a point. It was uncharacteristic, but then, Leo had always inspired unpredictable reactions in her.

  “Why did you interrupt? Were you jealous?”

  “Jealous?” He laughed, a sound that sent shivers down her spine for it was so without humour. “Not at all. I don’t care if you screw half of London. If reports are to be believed, you did that shortly after leaving me crippled in hospital.” He shook his head and leaned forward towards her, as though pulled by a strong magnetic force. “No. I was not jealous.” He lifted a finger and ran it insolently from her cheek, to her décolletage, and lower still, to the gauzy fabric that covered her modest breasts. Her nipples were erect beneath the shimmering material and he traced his finger around one, running circles over her sensitive skin. She gasped as sensations rocketed through her. “Your body is beautiful but I no longer desire you, Aurora.”

  She smothered the moan that was on the tip of her tongue. Low in her abdomen, arousal was building, and desire was flourishing like a flower in spring. “Then why did you interrupt my conversation?”

  His lips lifted in a half smile. “You could say I took pleasure from messing up your plans.” He undid his own seatbelt so that he could press his body across the car, and tease her neck with his lips. “You were always a very sensual thing, weren’t you? Are you feeling frustrated now? That your target for a night of cheap, meaningless sex isn’t around?”

  God, he was so wrong. He had no idea about her, but she wasn’t about to enlighten him. If she told him that he, and he alone, had been able to arouse her to a fever pitch of sensuality, he would hold it over her for life. He put a hand on her thigh and stroked his fingers against her bare skin, moving them higher and higher, until his thumb padded against the silk of her underwear.

  “Do you still love to be kissed here?” He asked distractedly, looping a finger beneath the flimsy fabric and touching her most intimate flesh.

  “Why don’t you come upstairs and find out?” She heard herself issue the invitation and froze in his arms. What the heck had come over her? She’d been down this path and she knew how it ended. Getting involved with Leonardo Fontana was a completely disastrous idea.

  He ran his mouth over the sensitive skin beneath her ear and inhaled her sweet fragrance. “As tempting as that is, I have a rule about sleeping with women who are so drunk they can barely stand up.”

  Disappointment seared inside of her. “I’m not that bad.”

  “You used to be able to handle your liquor,” he drawled with a shake of his head. “Not any longer, apparently. Go upstairs, Aurora. You’re fit for sleep and nothing else.”

  The sense of rejection was fierce. She groped for the handle and made a muffled sound of annoyance when she couldn’t find it.

  Leo reached across her and opened the door easily, shooting her a look of frustration. “Good night.”

  She swung her legs out, and stood. The cold air was fortifying. “So that’s it?” She demanded, her expression showing her anger.

  “For now.” He grabbed for the d
oor again and pulled it shut. He drove off before she’d reached the security doors of the luxurious high rise.

  She rode the lift in a state of shock.

  She’d seen him again, and it had gone a lot worse than she’d imagined. She had wanted to be cool when their paths crossed. To show him that she hadn’t let their relationship breakdown affect her life. That she was successful and happy and satisfied without the great, gorgeous Leonardo Fontana.

  Only she wasn’t, and after her performance that night, she was pretty sure he’d realise that she’d spent three years pining away for a man who barely thought of her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Oh, ouch.” Aurora rubbed her temples gingerly, her blonde hair spiking around her face in disarray. “Ouch.” She repeated, her eyes instinctively squeezing shut against the harsh bright light that was flooding into her spacious loft apartment.

  She squinted one eye half-open and looked at her phone. The screen was filled with messages. The time showed that it was after nine o’clock in the morning. “Crap.” She lifted a hand to her hair and smoothed it down.

  She never slept in. Despite the fact she worked from home, and in her own time, she had a routine of going to the gym or for a run each morning.

  Not that morning. The only thing she wanted on her agenda was coffee, and lots of it.

  She wriggled her toes against the hardwood floor and stood. Memories flooded back to her. “Crap.” She grimaced at the painful recollection of having invited Leo upstairs. Even more painful? That he’d declined.

  She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she reached the open-plan kitchen. The coffee machine was always switched on in Aurora’s apartment. She slid a pod in and waited for the heavenly black liquid to pool into a cup. She drank it black, and hot, then replaced the cup and slipped another pod into the machine. While it was brewing, she took a bite of an apple and stared out at the high rise opposite. Mid-way through lifting her second coffee to her lips, there was a hard, firm knock on the door. She frowned, moving through the apartment with far greater speed than she’d been able to manage ten minutes earlier. The coffee had been vital; its restorative powers impossible to ignore.