Dancing for the Billionaire (Scorching Billionaires Book 2) by Aspen Drake

Author:Aspen Drake [Drake, Aspen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Angie

Garrett looks good in a tux. I mean, really good. Like better than any mere mortal should. His hair is cut short on the sides with just a few dark locks artfully arranged to fall casually across his forehead. It’s sexy as hell.

And his blue eyes stay trained on me through the entire meal. Well, that’s not true. When he’s not carefully watching me, he’s staring at Eli. Some part of me feels guilty that Garrett obviously thinks Eli and I are here together.

But it’s better this way.

The less Garrett tries to pursue me, the easier it is for me to resist. Because right at this moment, if he even tilted his head in my direction, beckoning me to follow him into a back room for quick fuck, I’d be there.

I just wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

Not having Garrett visit me at work lately has been disappointing, but it’s made it easier for me to stay focused on my goals.

And my most important goal is sitting right beside me, trying to avoid the vegetables on his plate.

“Owen.” I wait for him to look at me before continuing so I know he’s really listening. “I heard the desserts around here are pretty amazing. If you want some, you need to finish those off.”

Owen glares at me then spears an asparagus stalk with his fork. “Fine. But you have to eat yours too.”

My plate is almost empty, except for a few of the roasted potatoes I was resisting. I’ve been trying to watch my carbs, but I guess that will have to take a backburner for the evening. “Fine.” I stab a potato with my fork and quickly pop it into my mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”

Owen giggles and finishes the rest of his mixed vegetables just before the plates are taken away and the dessert course is served.

“Should we go check to see if we won yet?” Owen asks before taking a big bite of cake.

“No, it’ll be more fun if it’s a surprise. Besides, if the bids are too high, I won’t be able to outbid them anyway.” I look Owen in the eye to make sure he understands what I’m saying.

“I know, Auntie Angie. We have to be reasonable.”

I grin at his choice of words. I’ve had to use them often when it comes to Owen. I’m afraid he has his mother’s addictive personality. Keeping him from overindulging on the good stuff and obsessing about the bad stuff has been a challenge for us both. “Exactly right, little man. We’ll just wait and see what happens.”

There are a few speeches that seem to drone on and on before a woman in a sequin gown takes the stage to announce the auction winners.

She starts with the lowest dollar items first, working her way up to the really big items. A bottle of Dom Pérignon goes for $375. A painting by an up-and-coming local artist goes for $700. And a beach house weekend in Pescadero goes for $1200.

Disappointment fills me as I lean down and whisper into Owen’s ear, “I’m sorry, buddy.

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