Page 35 of The Auction Block

Sammi and I stop at the bottom of the stairs. She clears her throat, and I keep my eyes on the floor. My hands shake, and everyone will notice my nervousness. I try to still my body, but it ignores me. A hand comes into view, pressing a light touch under my chin. I shake harder.

"Look at me," Blake says quietly, tilting my head up.

My eyes meet his, my breath catching in my throat.

His eyes are . . . beautiful.

He drops his hand back to his side and turns, letting my team get a full view of my newest look. I scan each of their faces, my eyes locking on Jax. He looks pissed, glancing from me to Blake and back.

"Well?"

Jax’s eyes soften as he walks over, and gently takes my shaking hands into his steady ones. "You look beautiful, Lily. You always do, with or without the expensive clothes."

My face heats and I'm sure my cheeks are a deep red.

I give Jax my sly grin and he gives me a full megawatt smile. Taking a deep breath, I turn to Blake, trying to ignore the wide-eyed stares from my fellow team members.

"Let's get this over with before I change my mind."

He saunters next to me, and holds his arm out for me to take. Nervously, I stare at his arm. My hands shake again as I place one in the crook of his elbow. Tonight's going to be hell on my nerves. I don't drink much, but I might make an exception at this point.

Blake leads us to the elevator, and I try to steady my breathing as we move down to the lobby of the building. I glance up at him, and he smirks down at me.

"I think you're going to make several men swoon tonight, Lily," he whispers.

I open my mouth to retort, just as the elevator doors widen. My smart-ass reply is lost as we step into the lobby amidst a throng of photographers and journalist.

Oh fuck, I think I'm going to die.

†††

Jameson closes the door after helping me into the Range Rover. I sit, my hands folded in my lap, staring out the window. Blake's quiet, an introspective look on his face. Jameson glances in the rear-view mirror, catching my eye. Using his index fingers, he mimics drawing a smile on his face.

I shake my head. I’m in no mood to smile. This is the most uncomfortable night I've had in a long time, and we aren't even at the damn event yet.

Blake reaches forward, pressing a few buttons on a small panel. Slowly, a tinted window separating the front and back seats rises, cutting me off from Jameson. I turn my head to find him staring at me, his lips in a hard line.

"We have an hour before we get there. I think we need to discuss a few things."

I twist in my seat. "Like what?"

"I'm supposed to pass you off as my date, yet I know damn near nothing about you. Regardless of my attempts over the last few weeks."

"Make some shit up," I snap. His eyes narrow. "Look, Mr. Mason, it doesn't matter what you tell them."

"It matters to me. Your face is about to be plastered alongside mine in every magazine and tabloid from here to New York. I'd like to know who's walking around on my arm for the night."

"Well, that attitude won't get you anywhere. Try asking nicely, and possibly specific questions. I don't talk about myself, if you haven't noticed, so don't expect me to just open up and go all Lindsay Lohan— Oprah interview on you."

His eyes widen, and a smile plays at his lips. "What's your full name?"

"Lily Williams. I don't have a middle name."

"Where in Texas are you from?"

"Mr. Mason, is this really necessary?"

"Stop with the Mr. Mason, shit. My name is Blake for Christ's sake, and if you don't want to come off as security, you're going to have to stop sounding like a god-damned Interpol agent for the evening."