The Spanish Love Deception novel Chapter 54

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“Yes.” I could feel him silently asking me not to go there. Not to ask what Angela had mentioned earlier.

“Oh,” I said distractedly. “Speaking of last year”—I had to ask—“what happened during the auction?”

Aaron’s shoulders tensed, his face falling with resignation. “Not much.”

“Oh yeah?” I feigned surprise. “So, this fierce competition that Angela was talking about, the one I should not be scared of, doesn’t ring any bell?”

I watched his lips twitch and then bend in a pout.

A pout. On Aaron’s lips.

“Like no bells whatsoever?” I pressed, getting acquainted with that expression of his for the first time ever. “Really none?”

Aaron Blackford kept pouting, which in turn made me want to smile as wide as I could go. Not that I would. I suppressed the urge.

“Oh, okay.” I shrugged. “I’m sure getting mobbed by overexcited bidders is a common occurrence for you then, Blackford.” I teased him because how could I not when he looked all … mortified and ready to come out of his skin? Plus, he had teased me first anyway. “How did it happen exactly? Did they fling themselves at you? Or was it perhaps something subtler? Like hurling their money at your feet? Then their underwear?”

If this man had the ability to blush, I would have bet all my money on those cheeks turning red any moment.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You are a big boy anyway.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Yes, we have stated that.” He moved one step closer. “I can fend for myself.”

“It didn’t sound like that.” My voice came out wobblier than I would have liked.

Then, he took one more step, and something fluttered in my belly.

“Luckily”—he leaned closer, fixating his blue eyes on me—“you are here tonight.”

The flutter intensified. Which did not make any sense. I should have been … what? What should I have been feeling?

“And the highest bid will be yours. Not anyone else’s.”

My heart raced as I looked up at him, feeling overwhelmed in a way that wasn’t strictly negative for how close he wa

s standing.

Aaron didn’t step back; instead, he continued talking, his voice coming closer and closer, “I will take care of the money. The donation will leave my pocket, not yours, so don’t be shy with the bid as long as you beat everyone here. Hurl the money at my feet, if you will. Just make sure it’s you”—he paused, and I felt my throat drying up—“the one buying me. Understood?”

Those last few words seemed to echo in my mind, mingling with the fluttering sensation in my belly, making my skin tingle.

I had to literally step back to force myself to process what he had just told me. I didn’t think I’d be able to donate more than a few hundred dollars on my own, so it was a good thing Aaron had concocted this plan with his checkbook and not mine.

Which led me to consider one of two possibilities: Aaron Blackford truly cared about the cause, or he was wealthy enough not to care how much I donated in his name as long as I spared him a date.