by Iris Parker
Bad.
When my eyes met hers again, all traces of sadness and fear were gone. If anything, she looked peaceful as she gave me a sultry smile. And peace I could deal with, even if the upheaval of emotions was a little unsettling. I reassessed the situation for a second, but my brain was sluggish and encumbered.
Thoughts of her gorgeous white breasts in my hands probably had something to do with that. Blood traveling down south and all. I wanted to laugh at myself, wondering what the hell was going on here. I hadn’t felt this out of sorts with a woman since I was twelve and so dirt poor that milk and cereal never existed in my home on the same days.
That fact alone should’ve been warning enough.
With a nod of excuse to her and my aching cock, I backed up and turned around, practically running over to Dom and Helena. To my relief—and disappointment—Jessie did the reasonable thing and stayed where she was. I sighed quietly, reminding myself that it was for the best.
Whatever Jessie’s story was, it was certain to be too complicated.
Complicated and emotional—two things I simply refused to do.
Chapter Two
Jessie
I walked across the large dining hall, my skin erupting in shivers as fear and anticipation settled in my chest. Heading towards the press table on wobbly legs, I found an open chair across from Alton Greene’s agent. John Hill was an old pro at public relations, having pulled Alton’s butt out of the fire more times than I could count. It was clear that John was smart and didn’t miss much, which of course only made me even more nervous.
Recognizing me from our earlier conversations, he flashed me a coy smile. “Pretty ballsy move for WBSX, if you ask me," he started off, doing nothing to dispel my growing anxiety. I nodded back, a crooked smile plastered all over my face.
“You’re right. But WBSX and the Bruins have been collaborating together for decades now, and this seems like a good way to pay the players back for everything they’ve given us.” I explained, cringing at how incredibly phony it all sounded.
The truth was, no one at WBSX had come up with this plan except for me. A great marketing idea plus a nice write-off, I’d explained as I pitched it, selling it to the station’s executives as if my life depended on it.
And of course, in a very twisted way, it did. Or at least Ezra’s life depended on it, and that amounted to the same thing.
In any case, the execs had approved the whole thing, and now only a string of auction “pieces” separated me from Alton. I still felt as if I’d completely lost my mind to even be considering this, but it was far too late to back out even if I wanted to.
“So Alton is definitely on board with all this, right?” I asked, hoping to hear reassurance even though I knew the answer.
“He is, in theory,” John answered.
Not quite the answer I’d been expecting.
“In theory?”
“Alton may be a media darling, but he—how do I put this? He doesn’t give a damn about any of it, really. So trying to get him to agree with the station’s plan was a bit like trying to convince your cat to play fetch. Kind of useless, if you know what I mean.”
“I see….” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Well, to be fair, he did agree to it. He just wasn’t paying very much attention to what he was agreeing with, is all. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? He’ll go with whoever wins the bid, regardless of who that is.”
Fear settled in my chest. None of this could be just in theory, because none of it was theory to me. From the weekly blood tests to the chemo, every moment of this nightmare had been one hundred percent real.
I looked at Alton’s picture on the bachelor auction flyer and resented him for having the luxury to be so non-committal. I’d lost that privilege years ago, and now the situation was life-and-death.
I sat back in my chair, trying to maintain the illusion of composure even though nothing could’ve been further from the truth. As player after player got auctioned off to mirthful audience members, I did my best to not question my sanity.
“And now, one of the most sought-after players in the Bruins,” the MC finally said, his voice booming in the speakers, “thirty-four-year-old Bostonian bad boy Alton Greene!” A thunder of applause resonated around us, mixed with a few rowdy hollers. I knew that, in spite of his shenanigans, Alton was widely lauded in the press and in the sports world, but I hadn't anticipated how much. The fear tightened its grip in my chest, and I anxiously wondered if my plan wasn't just about to fail spectacularly.
Alton sauntered out onto the stage as the MC read out his stats, confirming what I already knew. Alton was a treasured player for the Bruins, with countless successes to his name. The cheering got louder as Alton struck a pose, showcasing his broad shoulders and well-defined thighs. He was wearing a tuxedo that fit so perfectly it must have been custom made, and he effortlessly spun around to show everyone just how equally tailored his pants were.
I hated having to admit that, despite all my resentment towards him, the man did have a very nice ass. Not to mention nice arms, a nice chest, and of course a nice little buildup of stubble that probably scratched quite nicely. His huge smile was in direct contrast to the fear and guilt building up inside of me, like oil and water that refused to ever mix.
He had the smile of someone who knew success, confident and self-assured almost to the point of arrogance. It was clear that he knew his way around every situation, and that he had probably never doubted himself a day in his life. But I didn't care, I was more than ready to tackle him, and then some. Or so I hoped.
I tore my gaze away from him and looked around at the nearby tables. It seemed like all of the women in my immediate vicinity were sizing him up hungrily, interest clearly sparkling in their eyes. I had no doubt that, if I looked at the more distant tables, I’d only see more of the same.
Alton Greene was definitely a sight to see. All 6′4″ of him beamed with masculinity and strength, and there was no question that he’d fetch the highest price tonight. Due to its high-profile, the auction always did quite well. Some years the prices paid were downright exorbitant, and I prayed that this would not be one of those years. WBSX had given me a generous purse for this, but it wasn’t unlimited.
Another pang of guilt stabbed at my chest, but I pushed it away. It was a win-win situation for everyone, I reminded myself. WBSX would get their minute in the spotlight with the Bruins’ hottest player, and I’d get what I wanted from Alton.
Alton himself—well….
Alton was going to get what Alton always got. Another trophy, another woman in his bed, another one-night stand.
That was the life he lived, and I was just visiting it.
Alton
I flexed my biceps again, eyebrows raised comically high—anything for the sake of a good show. I was better at hockey than theatrics, but several charities counted on my performance tonight. I hoped that the goofy attitude would help drive the bidding up another couple thousand dollars, and so I turned around to suggestively display my butt to a roaring audience.
Sure, I was making an ass of myself, but I was making an ass of myself for a good cause. And that was more than could be said about me normally.
The most eligible bachelor this side of the Mississippi. That’s what The Boston Globe had called me, a title echoed by the MC. I looked out at the sea of faces in front of me, barely holding back a sigh of exasperation. It was a funny joke, but it seemed like nobody else was in on it.
I turned back and strode confidently to the left-stage, greeting the public with a wave and another goofy smile.
This side of the Mississippi. Yeah, sure. Let’s not forget sexiest NHL player and most eligible athlete, or a thousand other stupid titles that had been pinned on me. All of them amounted to the same thing, that I was a catch not to be missed.
With thundering cheers from the audience, I walked to the other side of the stage and mimed a couple of bicep curls. There had been a time wh
en I’d basked in all the attention, finding it useful. But these days it was more amusing than anything—you couldn’t be a great catch if you never got caught, after all.
And even if I had allowed that to happen, whoever caught me was certain to throw me back pretty damn fast. The best thing you could say about me was that I had just enough self-awareness to know that I was about as far from the perfect man as you could get. In fact, even calling me a decent man was a stretch.
Ruthless, callous, a bastard, all names I’d heard before, at least after I stopped phoning them. Usually it came from the most delicate ones, the women with the biggest hearts. It never used to bother me much. I was always upfront about what they were getting into. A one-night thing, maybe two if they were really hot. Most of them understood that. We were all thinking, responsible adults, after all. And I lived life to the fullest, Dominick in tow. We were free, finally.
At least until Helena came along, and out went Dominick. Now, she was one of the sweet and delicate ones. But Dominick had gone all out, and lost his mind as far as I was concerned. From as far as I could remember, it had always been the two of us. From bar to bar, woman to woman, we’d lived a life that we couldn’t have even dreamed was possible before.
But now Dominick was living another life to the fullest, one I couldn’t even begin to understand.
It was a life that gave me goosebumps.
I’d always thought we were both too damaged.
Turns out it was only me.
Eligible bachelor.
What a joke.
The MC walked up the stage to meet me and we shook hands. His smile was a mile wide—from what I gathered the night had been lucrative, which lifted my spirits. I found Dominick and Helena in the room and smiled as Helena waved frantically and Dominick wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Lucky bastards, I thought as dread filled my heart. They looked happy now, but maybe it would change in time. Better safe than sorry, after all.
“Who's willing to go all out for this fine specimen of the male species? Ladies? One night with the world-famous winger that will make your heart melt….”
Within a couple of minutes, the auction on the one-night date with me had started, and I saw a few hands shoot up in the air. Female voices called out offers from a few hundred to a few thousand, and the MC smile’s got even bigger with each new bid.
“Here he is! The best item of the night, right before your very eyes,” the MC harangued. I cringed inwardly, running a finger along the length of my collar as I silently begged for this ordeal to be over soon.
The best? Hardly.
On the ice, sure. Maybe in bed, too. But that was as far as it went.
Suddenly a familiar-sounding voice boomed clearly through the air.
“Fifteen thousand!”
Gasps of surprise echoed through the entire banquet hall. Everyone—even me—looked around to locate the outlandish bidder.
And then I saw her, still waving her bidding paddle high in the air.
I recognized Jessie immediately, my mind going blank as I desperately tried to hang on to my smile. I had no idea why she’d bid so high, but I did know one thing.
I was in deep, deep trouble.
Jessie
I'd learned to project my voice even in the most chaotic situations—being heard was part of the job, no matter the circumstance. So that’s exactly what I did when I placed the bid, my call of fifteen thousand echoing off the walls and stunning the room into silence. It was a number that could change my life, and more importantly, save Ezra’s.
What I hadn’t expected was just how attention-grabbing my theatrics would be. Murmurs of surprise filled the room, and everyone looked stunned. No one had been expecting the press table to even win an auction, let alone be the highest bidder in the auction’s history.
Even the one year when Dominick Henderson and Alton Greene had been offered as a single auction, igniting some major fantasies all across the country, the bidding hadn’t reached that high.
The other thing I hadn’t expected was the look on Alton’s face when he saw me. That cocksure, arrogant smile had been shattered, and for a second he’d almost looked scared.
He probably thinks I’m crazy.
I probably was crazy.
“That was WBSX reporter Jessie Wilson, with an amazing bid of fifteen thousand dollars!” the MC proclaimed. He’d been briefed about the whole plan, but he still seemed genuinely excited by the turn of events. “Do I hear sixteen? Sixteen thousand?”
Alton still looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and I wondered how much of the conversation with his agent he actually remembered.
Probably none of it.
“That’s fifteen thousand going once…,” the MC called, and my heart pounded in my chest. My savings had been wiped out by the hospital bills. If anyone outbid me now, that would be game over—even scrounging up every penny I could find, there was no way I could’ve kept the bidding up for long.
The seconds ticked by, seeming like hours.
“Going twice….”
Alton met my gaze, and I tried to stare back. I needed all the chutzpah I could muster, and I'd practiced extensively in front of the mirror. But this was massively different, and I felt my heart pound away in my chest as his blue eyes bore into me. They were unreadable now. Was he still shocked? Proud of himself? Turned on? Worried I was a deranged fan about to go all Misery on him? I didn’t know, and fear was gripping me on all sides.
I looked away. The man was more intimidating than I could’ve imagined—not to mention amazingly hot.
Only whispers and giggles could be heard as the MC dragged out the last few seconds of the auction into an eternity. Finally his voice sounded again, breaking the silence that had filled the banquet hall.
“Sold to Ms. Wilson and WBSX! Now that is how you get an interview!” The MC swung his gavel down on the small wooden podium in front of him. The room erupted with sudden applause and chatter, the earlier din now back and louder than ever.
On the stage, Alton had a small upturned smile on his face, and he bowed down in my direction—still unreadable. I shivered with relief that the hardest part of this was over, and the rest should be cake. My heart was still racing like crazy, but things were finally moving along.
With WBSX’s extended interview of Alton secured, I had the best alibi I ever could’ve asked for. The guilt threatened to come again, but I ignored it.
I was only doing this because I didn’t have any other choice.
Alton had made sure of that.
Bastard.
Alton
With a thunder of applause from the audience, the MC called the rest of the bachelors back up to the stage. The guys looked quite pleased with all the money we’d raised tonight for charity, shaking hands with each other and joking amongst themselves. I tapped a few shoulders and joined in, but couldn’t help but steal glances back at Jessie every few seconds.
John had mentioned something about a publicity stunt tonight, but most of the details eluded me. Maybe he'd talked about an interview or something like that? Not that I minded sitting down with such a stunningly beautiful woman, or even the attention-grabbing way her station had gone about the whole thing….
It was just something about her that felt weird. Something other than her stunningly hot body, or even the presence that her personality practically radiated in waves. It was something I’d picked up on earlier, but still couldn’t quite put my finger on. From my vantage point from the stage, I followed her around as she made her way to the nearest waiter and grabbed a flute of champagne from his tray. She seemed more self-conscious now, talking with John as he typed into his phone—setting up all the details of the upcoming interview, no doubt.
Intrigued by those details, I made my way off the stage. Pushing through a sea of well-wishers and wink-givers, it took me a while to reach them.
“Hello again,” I said as I arrived, noting that John was just leaving. “So. You won,” I said a
s I turned to a nervous-looking Jessie.
“Yeah, I won,” she replied, giving a shy smile that scrunched her mouth into a little heart.
I tried my best to ignore the smooth, velvety shimmer of her lips.
“An interview, then? Is that what you wanted me for?” I asked.
“Wanted you for? Uh—yeah. Right, an interview,” she said, stuttering a little in response to my question.
“When and where do you want it?” I asked, making direct eye contact with a wicked smile.
“It’ll be pre-recorded,” she said, much more fluidly this time. Rummaging through her work bag, she pulled out a manila folder. “Here’s a basic run-down of everything we’ll cover. The questions and all that. I already emailed a copy to John.”
“Okay,” I nodded, leafing through the papers as I fought the urge to get a better look at Jessie’s gorgeous body. “I’ve got to say, this is a good year for me. I usually end up with the wife of some executive or another. The ‘date’ typically involves dragging me out to some other charity event. You, on the other hand….”
“It needs to be on Friday,” Jessie continued, ignoring my comments as her voice trembled a little. “That’s really the only day I can do it.”
“Friday may be difficult,” I explained. “Helena and Dominick are finally moving in to their new place, and we’re having a little housewarming thing that—” I continued, trailing off as I saw the color drain out of Jessie’s face.
Shit, she’d paid fifteen grand for this. The least I could do was pull a few strings to make it work.
“How about I do you one better, and see if they’d like you to come along? Kind of a two for one deal—”
“I only want you,” Jessie said, her eyes wide. “And it really should be on Friday. We did set this up in advance, and Mr. Hill assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem.”
