Page 2 of Bought by His Brother’s Best Friend (The Bennett Brothers #1)

With each successful auction, my anxiety ratcheted higher. These men were all accomplished, charismatic and, most importantly, expected. The audience had come prepared to bid on them. I was a last-minute substitution for the main event, the disappointing understudy nobody paid to see.

“Bennett, you’re on deck,” Hank announced, gesturing me toward the stage entrance.

My legs felt wooden as I followed him to the wings. On stage, the concert pianist was taking his final bow as the emcee announced his winning bid of five thousand dollars.

“Ready?” Hank asked, adjusting my tie.

“No.” My voice came out as a croak.

He grinned. “Perfect. The nervous ones always do better. They seem authentic.” He pushed a bottle of water into my hand. “Quick sip, then it’s showtime.”

I drank. My throat so tight I could barely swallow.

Through the curtain, I could see the audience—a sea of elegant gowns and expectant faces.

They’d been promised Tyler Bennett, NHL superstar.

Instead, they were getting me.

The pianist exited to enthusiastic applause, nodding at me as he passed. The emcee’s voice boomed through the ballroom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve come to our last bachelor of the evening!”

A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. I wiped my palms on my pants.

“We had advertised NHL star Tyler Bennett,” the emcee continued. “Tyler had an away game this afternoon, which he won, but unfortunately he and the entire team have been grounded by weather.”

Disappointed sighs echoed throughout the room. My stomach churned.

“However!” the emcee said with a smile. “We are fortunate to have another Bennett with us tonight. Please welcome sports agent extraordinaire, the man behind some of the biggest deals in professional hockey, Tyler’s brother—Shane Bennett!”

Hank gave me a gentle push, and suddenly I was walking onto the brightly lit stage. The spotlight felt hot and exposing as I moved to stand beside the emcee, trying to remember what Tyler had said about these situations: stand tall, smile naturally, look confident even if you’re not.

“Shane is thirty years old and one of the rising stars in sports management,” the emcee read from his card. “When he’s not negotiating million-dollar contracts, he enjoys hockey—it runs in the family!—and cooking. His ideal date? A thoughtful dinner with great conversation.”

I managed a smile and a small wave, grateful that the lights were bright enough that I could only vaguely make out the audience’s expressions.

“Bidding for an evening with Shane will start at one thousand dollars,” the emcee announced. “Who’ll give me one thousand?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there, smile frozen on my face, as seconds ticked by with no response. The emcee cleared his throat.

“Remember, all proceeds go to the Children’s Sports Foundation, providing equipment and opportunities for underprivileged youth. Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

More silence. My collar felt suddenly too tight, and I resisted the urge to tug at it. This was what I’d feared—standing on stage while an entire ballroom of people decided I wasn’t worth opening their checkbooks for.

“Come now, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee tried again, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “Shane Bennett is a successful sports agent with his own firm. He’s responsible for negotiating some of the biggest contracts in the NHL. Surely we can start the bidding at five hundred?”

I scanned the room, hoping to spot Marjorie. Maybe she could signal one of her friends to place a pity bid, just to break this excruciating silence. Standing not too far from the stage, I saw her anxious face. Next to her, a server was delivering champagne to a table of well-dressed donors.

One of them, a dark-haired man in an impeccably tailored suit, glanced up at the stage. Even from this distance, I could see a flash of recognition in his expression.

Wait—was that Damien Roth? My heart gave an odd little jump.

I hadn’t seen Tyler’s old college roommate in months, maybe longer. What was he doing here?

“Perhaps we should—” the emcee began, preparing to cut this disaster short.

“Five thousand dollars.”

The deep voice rang out across the ballroom, and every head turned toward its source. Damien Roth had risen from his seat, one hand raised elegantly.

The emcee’s face lit up. “Five thousand! We have five thousand dollars from the gentleman at table three. Thank you, sir!”

I stared at Damien, surprised and relieved. He met my gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Was that amusement? Pity? I couldn’t tell, but I was too grateful for the rescue to care.

“Do I hear fifty-five hundred?” the emcee asked, renewed enthusiasm in his voice.

The room remained silent. My moment of relief began to fade as I realized no one was going to challenge Damien’s bid. This was still humiliating, just in a different way—saved by a single pity bid from my brother’s best friend.

The emcee tried again. “Five thousand going once...”

“Ten thousand,” Damien called out, raising his own bid.

A confused murmur swept through the audience. The emcee blinked. “Sir, you’re bidding against yourself.”

“I’m aware,” Damien replied smoothly. The gentle authority in his voice carried across the room. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

Gasps and excited whispers erupted around the ballroom. At Damien’s table, an elegant older woman in a diamond necklace laughed and patted his arm, saying something that made him smile.

The emcee, clearly thrown but delighted, recovered quickly. “Twenty thousand dollars! We have twenty thousand dollars for an evening with Shane Bennett!”

My cheeks burned with a complicated mix of embarrassment and gratitude. Twenty thousand dollars. For me. From Damien Roth, of all people.

“Going once,” the emcee called, scanning the room for any challengers. There were none. “Going twice...” Another pause. “Sold! To the gentleman at table three for twenty thousand dollars!”

Applause filled the ballroom as the emcee shook my hand. “Congratulations,” he whispered, for my ears only. “Highest bid of the night.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As I exited the stage on shaky legs, I found Marjorie waiting in the wings, beaming.

“Twenty thousand!” she exclaimed, embracing me tightly. “You did it, Shane! You broke our record!”

I had done nothing except stand there awkwardly, but I returned her hug. “I’m just glad it worked out.”

“More than worked out,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Now, go thank your generous bidder while I get the check processed. He’s done us a tremendous service tonight.”

As I made my way through the backstage area toward the ballroom, my mind raced.

What would I say to Damien? We’d never been particularly close—our interactions limited to the occasional group dinner when he and Tyler got together. And now I owed him an evening of my company, purchased at an astronomical price.

But more confusing than that was the inexplicable flutter in my stomach at the thought of spending time with him. I’d always found Damien Roth intriguing—successful, composed, with an intensity that commanded attention—but I’d never allowed myself to examine that interest too closely.

Now, as I stepped back into the glittering ballroom to find him, I couldn’t ignore the nervous anticipation coursing through me. Whatever his reasons for that outrageous bid, this night had taken a turn I never could have predicted.

And somehow, I wasn’t entirely sorry about it.