Page 1 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

SIX YEARS EARLIER

T he frat house is loud before we even open the car doors. Bass shakes the windows. Voices spill into the street. The porch is already crowded with guys in jerseys and girls in barely-there dresses clinging to red cups like lifelines.

It’s exactly what I expected.

And I’m ready for it.

Trey throws the car into park and turns around. “Bree. Final warning. No sneaking off, no drinking, no skinny dipping again?—”

“That was once,” Bree says sweetly, adjusting the neckline of her sparkly crop top. “And it was tasteful. ”

They bicker. Like normal siblings. Loud, dramatic, annoyingly endearing.

I don't get that luxury.

Next to him, my brother Jonathan says nothing. He just stares at me in the passenger seat mirror. No humor, no warmth. Just a look that says:

Don’t make me regret this.

Bree and I hatched this plan. She threatened her brother Trey if he didn’t let her come to the party. Said she would show their mom where he hides his stash of Jim Beam. He agreed but only if she brought a friend with her—probably because of the skinny dipping he just grumbled about.

Bree gave my name and said he’d have to convince Jonathan and—here we are—two high school juniors going to a college frat party.

Bree has been before. Her brother doesn’t hate her guts like mine does. He’s brought her to an after-game party or summer bonfire.

Jonathan would rather chew glass than take me anywhere. He’s only doing it because Trey asked as a favor. He doesn’t give a shit about me.

But I don’t care. I’m not here for him or to make out with some sports-crazed frat boy.

I’m here for one thing and that is Jaxon Kane.

It’s been four years since I last saw him.

He left when I was thirteen—off to college while the rest of us were still figuring out how to pass Algebra.

Back then, he was all crooked smiles and cocky charm.

Jonathan’s best friend. The boy who used to tease me in the kitchen while his mom cleaned our house and cooked our meals.

He’s a genius. Skipped several grades and left my brother behind quickly. Jonathan never did like that but everyone wanted to be Jax’s friend so naturally that meant Jonathan had to be his best friend.

He and his mom never had much but you’d never know it. Jaxon always had this carefree air about him. His freshman year in high school he sold an app. I didn’t pay attention to it at the time but now I know he made millions off it.

Bought a house for his mom. She quit work.

And the next year he was gone.

Passed right through high school in a summer and colleges nearly offered him to world to come to their school. But now he’s back. Several degrees later, if the rumors are true and tonight, I’m going to make sure when he looks at me, he doesn’t see Jonathan’s kid sister anymore.

Jonathan heads into the open double doors first.

Trey turns around pointing his finger at us, moving back and forth between both of us. “No wandering off. No drinking. If you see a guy in a toga, turn around.”

Bree rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, okay Dad!”

“I’m not kidding, Bree!” He calls back. His final threats drowned by the thumping music.

Bree is practically bouncing as we walk toward the house. “You ready for this?”

“I think I’m going to puke.”

“Girl, you’ve got this.” Bree slides her arm through mine, and we step up on the wide colonial style porch. My eyes bounce from face to face looking for that tousled dark hair and near-black eyes.

“You are going to make every guy in this place drool over you. Jaxon Kane can either take the bait or watch someone else do it.” She bumps her shoulder into mine as we step into the house.

We step into a crowd of dancing bodies and chaotic laughter, and I feel it hit me all at once—heat, nerves, adrenaline.

The loud music beats against my chest. The smell of weed is saturating one set of closed doors and I scrunch my nose at it. Bree heads over and cracks the door open.

“Jesus.” She closes the door, blinking. Tears beginning to glass over her eyes. “Talk about instant fucking contact high.”

I pull my green dress down a bit further when a gaggle of guys turn to look at us at the same time. They look like prairie dogs popping up all at once and I snort a half-hearted laugh through my nose.

The stares don’t stop.

Every time we move, a new cluster of guys turns to look—smirking, elbowing their friends, nudging each other like we’re a new flavor on the menu.

Bree eats it up, already dancing to the beat with her hands in the air and a grin on her face.

I’m occupied scanning the room.

Every face. Every flicker of dark hair or tall frame that makes my heart lurch for half a second before disappointment slams it back down.

No Jaxon.

I make another slow pass through the living room, then the kitchen. Nothing. I circle back, check the hallway near the bathrooms. Still nothing.

It’s all anyone has talked about all week and that he was definitely coming tonight. But it’s like the universe is playing chicken with my confidence—and I’m losing.

I lean against the wall near the keg station, trying not to look like a sulking teenager. Bree’s across the room, fully in her element, laughing with some guy in a beanie and doing this slow, swaying dance that has his full attention.

Good for her.

I scan the top floor where a wide staircase curves up and a wrap-around hallway is the perfect place to watch the entire party below.

Just when I think about walking up there, I see my brother.

He’s halfway down the hall, tangled up with some blonde I don’t recognize. Her hands are in his hair, his lips on her shoulder dragging across toward her neck. She giggles and sits up, sniffing and tugging at his nose once before she tugs him toward one of the rooms and he follows.

But before he disappears behind the door, he turns. His eyes scanning his surroundings before he looks down.

R ight at me.

His expression hardens like stone. Holding me there suspended a second, then two before he disappears behind the door.

I swallow hard and try not to show how my stomach twists.

It’s not just that he’s an asshole—he is, obviously. But something about my existence pulls the most hateful anger out of him. The kind of anger that ended up with me bruised and crying.

I learned a long time ago not to give him a reason.

But tonight was supposed to be mine. My chance.

And so far it’s one giant disappointment.

I tap Bree on the shoulder and lean in. “I’m gonna head outside for a minute. It’s hot.”

She doesn’t even slow down. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just need five.”

She nods, already moving to the beat again, her eyes on the beanie guy, the music too loud for anything else.

I slip through the crowd, past the beer pong table and the sticky kitchen floor, out the back door and into the cooler night air.

The second I step out, I can finally breathe.

The music dulls behind me, thumping low through the walls. Out here, it's quiet. Still rowdy in the distance—laughter, the distant clatter of a dropped bottle—but the air is fresher. Cleaner.

Cool enough that the sudden change burns behind my eyes making me blink fast.

I hate that I cry when I get angry.

I bite my lip and turn toward the railing, gripping the edge with both hands. I tell myself to get it together. I didn’t come out here to fall apart—I came out here to reset.

Then I feel a warmth at my back. A presence. A tingle down my neck that tells me someone else is here.

And then his voice, low, smooth and dark like velvet wraps around me.

“You wouldn’t be looking for me, would you, Cricket?”

Every muscle in my body tightens. My heart stumbles.

That voice—deeper now, richer.

I smile slow, still giving him my back, while inside it’s chaos.

He’s actually here.

And just like that, every plan I made, every clever line I rehearsed, scatters like smoke.

I inhale, roll my shoulders back, and turn with all the fake indifference I can muster.

Cool. Detached. Unbothered.

It lasts two seconds.

Because the boy who left at sixteen is gone. In his place?

Holy. Shit.

Jaxon Kane is a man now—taller than Jonathan, broad and athletic. A black t-shirt clings to his chest, stretching over his shoulders and biceps like it was made for him.

He was always beautiful—dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, that crooked half-smile that made me stupid.

But this?

Greek god. Sin in human form.

His near-black eyes lock on mine, glinting with amusement, like he’s already laughing at a joke he hasn’t told yet. His hair’s longer now, brushing his ears, messy in a way that shouldn’t work but does.

And it’s still him. Jaxon.

That crooked smile spreads as I realize—shit—I’ve been staring.

He whistles low. “Damn, let me get a look at you.”

Before I can move, he takes my hand, warm and sure, and spins me like a ballerina.

His scent hits me like pine, leather, and danger.

“Looks like you’re all grown up now, Cricket.”

My mouth opens, something flirty half-formed, but the back door bursts open. Music blasts as the Jaxon Kane fan club floods out.

“Kane!”

“Jax! Buddy!”

They clap him on the back, drape arms around his shoulders like he’s a soldier returning from war. Then his gaze cuts back to me.

And he winks.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, Crick.” Velvet-low, like the nickname never left his mouth.

Then he’s gone.

I’m frozen, unsure whether to follow—or stay. Bree steps onto the porch, eyebrow arched. “So… wedding colors and baby names, or what?”

I scoff. “He didn’t even let me say hi.”

“What?”

“He came out, said my name, then got mobbed and walked off.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s it?”

I nod, pulse still racing—now from irritation.

Bree growls. “Rude.”

“No kidding.” But her earlier words echo in my head: Jaxon Kane can either take the bait or watch someone else do it.

I glance at her, a sly smile tugging my lips. She grins back.

“Hell yes,” she says, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “Make him regret leaving you alone for another wolf to piss a circle around you.”

I snort. “Gross metaphor.”

“Accurate.”

“Painfully.”

We laugh, my nerves burning off with each step toward the house.

If Jaxon wants to walk away mid-moment? Fine.

Let him watch someone else drool over me tonight.

Let him see exactly what he turned his back on.