Page 3 of Bought by His Brother’s Best Friend (The Bennett Brothers #1)

TWO

DAMIEN

I adjusted my cufflinks as laughter rippled through our table—another joke from Senator Williams about his golf handicap.

I smiled politely, though I’d heard variations of the same story at several other charity events this year. These functions were always the same: elegant decorations, decent champagne, wealthy people congratulating themselves on their generosity.

I didn’t mind. The Children’s Sports Foundation did good work, and my donation would help kids who reminded me of myself before success—hungry for opportunity and access. The twenty-five thousand I’d already given when purchasing my table would provide equipment for dozens of young athletes.

“And which bachelor will you be bidding on tonight, Mr. Roth?” Mrs. Covington asked, her diamond necklace catching the light as she leaned toward me. Despite being in her seventies, her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That dancer was quite handsome.”

“I hadn’t planned on bidding.” I said, taking a sip of champagne. “I’m just here to support the foundation.”

“Pity. A successful man like yourself should have someone special.” She patted my hand. “Though I suppose you’re too busy building empires to bother with romance.”

If only she knew. Success came easily to me—relationships didn’t. When your net worth had nine figures, people saw dollar signs instead of the person beneath. I’d learned that lesson several times over.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve come to our last bachelor of the evening!” announced the emcee as the pianist left the stage.

I straightened in my chair. Tyler Bennett was the real reason I’d attended tonight.

We’d been roommates in college, remaining close despite our different career paths. When he’d mentioned this charity auction, I’d purchased a table immediately—not to bid on him, obviously, but to support him and enjoy our usual post-event drinks.

“We had advertised NHL star Tyler Bennett,” the emcee continued, his tone shifting to apologetic. “But unfortunately, he and the entire team have been grounded by weather.”

Disappointed murmurs spread through the audience. I frowned, pulling out my phone to check if Tyler had texted me about the change. Nothing.

“However!” The emcee’s voice brightened. “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!”

My head snapped up as Shane walked onto the stage, tall and handsome in a tailored navy suit that highlighted his athletic build. He moved with a contained grace that contrasted with Tyler’s natural showmanship, his smile slightly nervous yet genuine.

Something tightened in my chest. I hadn’t expected to see Shane tonight.

“You know him?” Mrs. Covington asked, noting my sudden interest.

“His brother was my college roommate,” I explained, not taking my eyes off the stage. I didn’t add that I’d been infatuated with Shane Bennett for the better part of a decade.

We’d met at a college party when Tyler had invited me to watch hockey playoffs at his family’s home.

Shane had been in his final year of high school then—bright, witty, and so fiercely supportive of his brother that I’d been immediately drawn to him.

Over the years, our paths crossed at Tyler’s games or birthday celebrations, each encounter leaving me more intrigued.

But I’d never acted on my attraction.

Tyler was one of my closest friends, and I valued that friendship too much to risk complicating things. Besides, I’d never been certain if Shane’s warm smiles meant anything beyond polite friendliness.

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

Silence fell over the ballroom.

Shane stood alone under the spotlight, his smile becoming fixed as seconds ticked by without a response. Something protective surged through me as I watched him trying to maintain his composure while an entire room full of people deemed him not worth the opening bid.

“Remember, all proceeds go to the Children’s Sports Foundation,” the emcee tried again, lowering the bar. “Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

More silence. Shane’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly—something most people wouldn’t notice.

This was wrong. Shane Bennett was worth far more than the starting bid. He was intelligent, dedicated, principled—the kind of man who built his career on hard work rather than riding his brother’s coattails. That no one was bidding reflected the shallow priorities of the room, not Shane’s worth.

“Come now, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee continued desperately. “Shane Bennett is a successful sports agent with his own firm. Surely we can start the bidding at five hundred?”

I watched Shane scan the audience. His composed expression betrayed by the anxiety in his eyes. Our gazes connected, and I saw recognition flash across his face.

“Perhaps we should—” the emcee began, preparing to end this painful scene.

“Five thousand dollars,” I said, rising from my seat. The words left my mouth before I’d formed the thought, driven by an instinct to rescue Shane from humiliation.

The emcee’s relief was palpable. “We have five thousand dollars. Thank you, sir!”

Shane stared at me, surprise and what looked like gratitude softening his features. I maintained eye contact, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“Do I hear fifty-five hundred?” the emcee asked hopefully.

The room remained silent. No one was going to challenge my bid, which meant Shane would know this was charity—a pity bid from his brother’s friend. The thought bothered me more than it should have.

“Five thousand going once...”

“Ten thousand,” I called out, raising my own bid without breaking eye contact with Shane.

Confusion rippled through the audience. The emcee blinked in surprise. “Sir, you’re bidding against yourself.”

“I’m aware,” I replied evenly. Then, making a split-second decision: “Twenty thousand dollars.”

Gasps and whispers erupted around me. At my side, Mrs. Covington let out a delighted laugh and patted my arm.

“My goodness, Mr. Roth,” she murmured. “If I’d known you were so generous, I’d have introduced you to my grandson instead of just my investment portfolio.”

I smiled but kept my eyes on Shane, whose cheeks had flushed an appealing shade of pink. The bid was extravagant, yes, but I could afford it easily. And something about the stunned look on Shane’s face made it worth every penny.

“We have twenty thousand dollars for an evening with Shane Bennett!” The emcee could barely contain his excitement. “Going once... going twice... Sold!”

Applause filled the room as Shane left the stage. I sat back, my heart beating faster than it should have for a simple charity bid.

“Well played,” Mrs. Covington said, her eyes twinkling with knowing amusement. “Though subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

I laughed. “Sometimes directness is more effective.”

“Oh, I agree.” She sipped her champagne. “When you’ve reached my age, you learn not to waste time. Life’s too short for games.” She nodded toward the event coordinator, who was approaching our table with a tablet. “I believe your generosity requires processing.”

Marjorie Davis, the foundation’s director, beamed at me as if I’d personally saved her evening—which, in a way, I had.

“Mr. Roth, your contribution tonight is extraordinary,” she gushed as I signed the receipt for my bid. “That’s a record for our bachelor auction.”

“The foundation deserves it,” I said. “And so does Shane.”

Her expression softened with understanding. “He certainly does. Such a lovely young man—always in the background making sure his brother shines. You can find him by the east bar when you’re ready for a proper introduction.”

After she left, I excused myself from the table, ignoring Mrs. Covington’s knowing smile as I made my way through the crowded ballroom. The orchestra had started playing again, and couples were moving to the dance floor, giving the event a celebratory atmosphere.

I spotted Shane before he saw me—standing by the bar, running his finger nervously around the rim of a tumbler containing what looked like bourbon. The golden light from the art déco sconces highlighted the strong line of his jaw and the slight furrow between his brows as he stared into his drink.

He looked up as I approached, his expression an intriguing mix of gratitude and wariness.

“Twenty grand is a lot for a dinner with your friend’s brother,” he said when I reached him, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders.

“It’s for a good cause.” I signaled the bartender. “Macallan 25, neat.”

Shane raised an eyebrow and let out a slow whistle. “Pricey.”

“I think I can afford it even after dropping twenty thousand on dinner.” I accepted the whiskey from the bartender with a nod of thanks. “Besides, I’m celebrating an excellent investment.”

That drew a surprised laugh from him, easing some of the awkwardness between us. “Is that what I am? An investment?”

“The foundation certainly thinks so.” I took a sip of my scotch, appreciating the smooth burn. “You saved their evening.”

“I think that was you.” He looked down at his drink, then back up at me with those warm hazel eyes. “Thank you for that, by the way. That was... pretty mortifying until you stepped in.”

“It shouldn’t have been. You’re every bit as auction-worthy as anyone else on that stage.”

A hint of color touched his cheeks. “That’s kind of you to say, but we both know people came to bid on Tyler, not his less-famous brother.”

“Their loss.” I held his gaze until he glanced away, clearly unused to direct compliments. “How is Tyler? Besides being stranded by weather.”

“He’s good. Frustrated about missing tonight, but the team’s having a strong season.” Shane visibly relaxed discussing his brother. “He mentioned you two had dinner last month when he was in Seattle.”