Page 38 of Playing Dirty
I'm trying very hard to keep my face arranged into something resembling delighted appreciation while my actual internal monologue is somewhere closer tooh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.No offense to these women, but I'd so much rather a date with Margot than what appears to be a few cougars who would likely want to eat me for dessert. Fuck Derek for this idea.
"Twenty-seven from the phone."
"Thirty," the blonde says.
A ripple of genuine shock goes through the crowd this time. Thirty thousand dollars for the privilege of sitting across a table from me. The blonde's smile is the patient, predatory smile of a woman who has never lost a bidding war in her life. The staffer murmurs into her headset as the phone bidder pauses. The silence stretches uncomfortably.
I find Margot again. She's not looking away anymore, and I think we're both holding our breath at the same rhythm, except I'm reasonably sure we're hoping for opposite outcomes.
"We have thirty-five from the phone," the staffer says, her voice perfectly even.
A gasp goes through the room. The blonde's smile thins as she raises her paddle once more. "Forty."
Holy hell!
The staffer presses her hand to her earpiece, listeningintently. The auctioneer is grinning like all his Christmases have come at once. Derek, somewhere in the crowd, is presumably about to weep tears of joy directly into his champagne flute.
"We have," the staffer says slowly, "fifty thousand from the phone."
The room goes quiet.
The blonde looks down at her paddle. Looks at me. Looks back at her paddle. For a second I think she's going to raise it anyway. Then she sets it down on her lap with a sharp sigh of resignation. Apparently she's decided fifty thousand dollars is more than even she is willing to spend on a hockey player she's never met.
"Fifty thousand, going once." The auctioneer's voice rolls through the room. "Going twice."
I find Margot's eyes again. She looks every bit as horrified as I am elated.
"Sold, to phone bidder Vivian Ashford, for fifty thousand dollars."
The gavel comes down with a sharp crack and everyone breaks out in applause.
10
Margot
"I’m seriously starting to regret letting you talk me into this," I mutter, smoothing my palms over the fabric as I study my reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror.
The dress is a long, flowy thing in dusty rose, scattered all over with tiny flowers, floaty and a little bohemian. It would almost be sweet if it weren't for the neckline, which plunges in a deep V practically to my sternum.
Sabrina is cross-legged on the end of my bed, watching me with a glass of the rosé she pulled from my fridge ten minutes ago. "You lookincredible. That dress is divine on you."
I sigh and turn to the side, attempting to gauge exactly how much is being put on display by that plunging V, which ruled out every normal bra I own.
"It's technically a professional obligation," I say, my voice sounding a bit thin. "I don't think it's appropriate to be displaying this much skin."
"It's a date, Margot. Aworkdate, sure, but still." She crosses to the dresser and starts pillaging my jewelry box, lifting out a long goldchain with a bright emerald pendant. "You want to look good for the social media coverage, don't you? Andmaybefor Cillian too?"
The truth is I have not stopped thinking about Cillian since the moment I lost all dignity to my own vibrator two nights ago, before that really, and the closer the clock crawls to seven, the worse the situation in my chest is becoming.
I swallow hard. "I honestly have no idea what I want."
She holds the chain up against my neck and considers, then nods to herself, steps behind me, and fastens it at my nape. The pendant falls low between my breasts, the green of the stone catching the light against the soft pink, drawing the eye exactly where Sabrina wants it drawn. I have to admit, even to myself, that the entire effect is alluring.
"Well, I do." She steps back, hands on her hips, surveying me. "You're totally into him, so I'm going to assist the universe by making you look absolutely irresistible. Now, spin for me."
I do a reluctant half-twirl, the long skirt flaring out around my legs before settling back against them, and she leans back, shaking her head slowly with an approving smile.
"Wow," she breathes. "I am justsodamn talented at styling. You look absolutely smoking."
