Page 24 of Playing Dirty
"Cillian's team confirmed this morning. He's agreed to be auctioned off at the gala!"
I blink at her. "Auctioned?"
"A date with Cillian O'Rourke. Dinner for two, the top lot of the entire night." She clasps her hands together. "His manager signed off an hour ago."
I really shouldn't be surprised. He strikes me asexactlythe type who'd say yes to a date auction, a kissing booth, or any other excuse to stand in front of a crowd and be adored.
"That's great," I say, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. The gala is an important fundraiser, and I have no doubt that a private evening with him will raise a massive amount. So at least there's that. "I'm sure it'll be a huge success."
"Oh, Iknowit'll be a huge success," Carol says. "Because Vivian Ashford has already committed to winning it."
Everyone at Solstice Estates knows the name Vivian Ashford. She's massive old money, gives generously to every cause we touch, and pops in for reserve tastings whenever she's at her Napa estate, though she usually spends her springs in Europe.
"I didn't realize she was a hockey fan?" I ask, trying to keep up as we turn toward the executive offices.
"She doesn't care a lick about hockey, but shedoescare about remaining the estate's primary donor since this year's charity is personal to her. Her ceiling is incredibly high, so it's a win-win. If she wins, it's massive capital; if she just pushes another bidder up, even better."
"That makes sense," I murmur, my mind already drifting back to the impending dove conversation.
"There's just one wrinkle." Carol leads me into her office and gestures toward the armchair.
"There's always one wrinkle," I say, a sinking feeling beginning to take root in my chest as I sit.
"Vivian is committed to the bid and will be calling in," Carol says, leafing through several folders on her desk. "She'll be inEurope during the actual gala and scheduled dinner date. She's attending a granddaughter's week-long wedding celebration."
"So she's buying a dinner date that she can't attend."
"She’s purchasing the publicity and the charitable deduction, for which we are immensely grateful. However, it leaves us with a dinner and a vacant seat, which would be a PR disaster. The committee is insistent that the date be documented for socials."
"I see. That is a bit of a puzzle," I say, trying to brainstorm a solution.
"Well, itwouldbe if I hadn’t already thought of a fix." Carol pauses, looking a touch apprehensive. "I think it would be fantastic for the brand's visibility ifyouwere to represent her and go on the date, assuming no other donor outbids her."
“What?” I stare at her. "You're asking me to go on a date with Cillian O'Rourke. As a… work assignment?"
"When you put it like that, it sounds a little strange."
"It sounds a little strange because itisstrange, Carol. I am being assigned a candlelit dinner with a pro athlete."
"It isn't arealdate, for heaven's sake. View it as an extension of the gala—just another promotional event, but a bit more intimate. And I doubt there will be candles," she says, then pauses. "Actually, there might be."
"You're not making this any more enticing."
Panic bubbles up at the idea of dinner alone with him. We've settled into a decent professional rapport lately, no more biting each other's heads off, and he's been pleasant enough. But every single time we've been alone, I start opening up, or he notices something I never meant to show him. I don't know what it is. I just know it makes me uncomfortable, and I cannot spend an entire dinner alone with the man.
"It's just one meal," she says. "Most people would view having a fancy dinner with Cillian as a major benefit."
"Most people aren't being assigned a romantic date for work,unless they're in the sex industry." I hear myself and immediately cringe. "Which is a respectable profession and deserves union protections, obviously, I just mean it isn't exactly... standard for a sommelier's job description, it's..."
I trail off, floundering in my own awkwardness, and Carol peers at me over the rim of her glasses. "Relax, Margot. I understand your point."
"I’m just saying," I say, attempting to salvage what's left of my composure. "When I signed my contract, 'professional escort' wasn't listed under the primary duties. I'd have asked for a higher salary."
Carol bursts out laughing. "Very funny."
"Thanks," I mutter.
"Obviously this is optional. You know I value your boundaries, Margot." She leans forward, her expression shifting more serious. "But it would look incredible to have our sommelier featured. There's a French tech group interested in a partnership, which would be a massive win for the project."
