Page 14

Fourteen

Ava

I stepped out of the car and smoothed the skirt of my pale pink Oscar de la Renta dress, the embroidered orchid appliqués catching the glow of the streetlights. The delicate shimmer of gold threads wove through the fabric like whispers, complementing my fake and bake tanned skin. I felt like I’d stepped out of a dream.The gala venue was a masterpiece of old-world glamour—an art deco theater-turned-event space with gilded moldings, sweeping marble staircases, and chandeliers that spilled golden light across the polished floors. The scent of fresh-cut roses and expensive perfume drifted through the air, mixing with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter from elegantly dressed guests.

I lingered outside for just a moment, adjusting the delicate strap of my gold heels and smoothing a hand down the embroidered bodice of my gown. The soft organza fabric shimmered under the entrance lights, the golden threads woven through the pale pink dress catching and refracting every flicker of movement. The fitted bodice hugged my torso before flaring into a weightless, flowing skirt, the sheer layers brushing against my legs with every step. It was a dress made for elegance, for grace—but right now, standing here, nerves coiling in my stomach, I didn’t feel particularly graceful.

I took a steadying breath and stepped inside.

The moment I crossed the threshold, my eyes locked onto Logan. He stood near the entrance, his hands tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored tuxedo, a man who looked like he belonged in the kind of world I was still figuring out how to navigate. The deep black fabric fit him like it had been crafted for his body alone, the sharp lines of the jacket emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the effortless confidence he carried like a second skin.

But right now? He wasn’t the cocky, self-assured Logan Bennett I was used to.

His gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate, and when his honey-brown eyes met mine again, there was something raw there—something unguarded. His lips parted slightly, as if he had words but forgot how to use them.

“Wow,” he finally said, his voice rougher, quieter than I’d ever heard it. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You look... unreal.”

The heat climbing up my neck had nothing to do with the warm glow of the chandeliers. “Not bad yourself,” I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.

His lips quirked into a slow, genuine smile—not his usual smirk, not the playful arrogance he wielded like a weapon. This was softer, realer.

He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

I hesitated just a second longer than I should have before slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. The fabric of his jacket was smooth beneath my fingertips, and as he led me into the ballroom, I had the strangest feeling that for the first time tonight, the cameras wouldn’t be the only ones watching us.

The ballroom was a vision of opulence—crystal chandeliers glittering above, tables dressed in pristine white linens, and floral centerpieces that looked like they belonged in a museum. The hum of polite conversation filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft strains of a live jazz quartet. Logan kept me close as he introduced me to his head coach, Michael Heinz, and a few of his teammates I had yet to meet, and their respective wives. They were polite, charming even, but I could feel their curiosity as they glanced between Logan and me. Convincing the world we were a couple was harder than I had initially anticiapted.

“You must have a lot of patience,” Coach Heinz joked, shaking my hand with a firm grip.

I smiled. “It’s a full-time job keeping him in line.”

Logan’s hand brushed lightly against my lower back, a touch that felt both possessive and grounding. “Don’t let her fool you. She loves it.”

We were seated at a table near the front of the room when the auction began. The emcee, a lively man in a tailored navy suit, took the stage, his voice booming with enthusiasm. He introduced the first few items—signed memorabilia, private dinners with celebrities, and luxury vacation packages—all drawing polite bids and applause from the crowd.

Logan leaned toward me, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “What would you bid on?”

I picked up the glossy program, skimming the items. “The group beach vacation sounds fun. A little time to get away, enjoy the sun, maybe bring some friends.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his lips curling into a half-smile. “Good choice. But I’ve got something else in mind.”

The emcee cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Our first item is a romantic weekend getaway for two in beautiful Vancouver. This package includes a cozy cabin in the mountains, couples massages, ski passes, and all the luxury you could want for an unforgettable experience.” He gestured toward the projected image of a stunning snow-covered lodge. “We’ll start the bidding at $5,000.”

I expected Logan to stay quiet, but the paddle in his hand shot up immediately. “Five thousand,” he called, his tone steady and confident.

The emcee smiled. “Five thousand from Number 16. Do I hear six?”

Another paddle went up across the room, and the emcee pointed. “Six thousand. Do I hear seven?”

Logan raised his paddle again. “Seven.”

The bids started coming faster, and with each number, I glanced at Logan, but his expression was calm, almost amused. He didn’t hesitate, his paddle going up at every counter. The emcee’s voice grew more animated as the number climbed.

“Fifteen thousand. Do I hear sixteen?”

“Sixteen,” Logan said smoothly.

“Seventeen?”

The other bidder, a man in a gray suit seated two tables back, raised his paddle again. “Seventeen.”

I shifted in my seat, glancing nervously between Logan and the emcee. “Logan, maybe let him—”

“Eighteen,” Logan interrupted, his paddle already in the air. His jaw tightened slightly, and I could see the spark of competition in his eyes. This wasn’t about the getaway anymore—it was about winning.

The emcee grinned. “Eighteen from Number 16. Do I hear nineteen?”

“Twenty,” the man called, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile.

Logan didn’t even flinch. “Thirty.”

A ripple of gasps spread through the room, and I felt my stomach drop. “Logan—” I started, but he shook his head, his focus locked on the emcee.

The man in the gray suit hesitated, his smile faltering. He raised his paddle once more. “Forty.”

Logan’s paddle was already in the air before the emcee could ask for the next bid. “Fifty thousand.”

The room fell silent for a beat, the emcee looking delighted as he glanced around. “Fifty thousand from Number 16! Do I hear fifty-five?”

The other bidder shook his head, lowering his paddle with a resigned shrug. The emcee’s gavel hit the podium with a sharp crack. “Sold! Number 16, Logan Bennett, for fifty thousand!”

The room burst into cheers, Logan’s teammates whooping and hollering from across the tables. He leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a satisfied grin as he gave a small wave of acknowledgment to the crowd.

I forced a tight smile, clapping along, but my chest felt like it was caving in. My thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Did he buy it for us ? Or was this for someone else—someone he’d rather be here with? Logan’s teammates kept cheering, their shouts of “Smooth move, Bennett!” and “Romantic weekend, huh?” cutting through the noise, but I couldn’t focus. The room felt too bright, too loud, and I needed air. I excused myself, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom, and slipped out into the foyer. The quiet was immediate, the cool air brushing against my skin like a balm. But it did nothing to stop the questions swirling in my head.

I paused near a staircase, my mind racing. What had I gotten myself into? The lines between fake feelings and real were starting to blur, and I wasn’t sure I knew where we stood anymore.

“Ava,” Logan’s voice called out, concerned but not loud.

I turned to see him striding toward me, his brows drawn together. He stopped a few feet away, his hands in his pockets.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… a lot,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the ballroom. “The crowd, the money, the noise, the... everything.”

He frowned, studying me closely. “You’re not telling me the whole truth.”

Before I could respond, his gaze shifted past me, landing on a small alcove tucked into the side of the foyer. Without a word, he stepped forward, his hand gently wrapping around my wrist as he led me toward it.

“Logan,”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling me into the shadowed nook and pressing me lightly against the wall.

The next thing I knew, his hands were on my waist, his body crowding mine in the best way. His lips felt like cloud soft pillows against mine, and I melted into him, the tension in my chest unraveling as I kissed him back with everything I had. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. I could feel the hard press of his body through his suit, the solid heat of him leaving no room for doubt about how he felt. When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my cheek.

“Next time you’re overwhelmed,” he said, his voice rough and low, “Tell me. Don’t run. Deal?”

I nodded, my fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket. “Deal.”

Logan’s forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath after the kiss that had turned my world upside down. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, his hands still resting firmly on my waist. He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he leaned back just enough to look at me. His brown eyes were warm, searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

“You want to go back in? Stay for a few more auction items?”

I blinked at him, still trying to process everything. “You… want to go back?”

He grinned, that signature cocky smile making a reappearance. “I dropped fifty grand, Ava. I figure we might as well eat and drink, maybe stick around a little longer. Besides, I’m not ready to leave just yet.”

I hesitated, the rational part of me screaming that I should step away, put some distance between us. But the part of me still reeling from the kiss, the part that had felt the solid weight of his body against mine, won out. “Okay. A few more.”

He straightened, offering me his arm with a casual ease that made it impossible to say no.

“After that, we’ll head back to my place. Chinese takeout, some TV. Nothing fancy.”

I raised a brow, slipping my arm through his as we headed back toward the ballroom. “Takeout and TV? You really know how to treat a girl, Bennett.”

He smirked. “Trust me, baby I know you love it.”

I didn’t respond, but as we stepped back into the glittering chaos of the gala, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d just agreed to—and why the thought of a night at Logan’s place didn’t feel as dangerous as it probably should.