Page 3 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

M att disappears into the rush of college boys sprinting to beat curfew, and the night air closes in. The beer’s warm buzz lingers in my veins, but the cold still nips at every inch my dress doesn’t cover.

I cross my arms, debating going back inside—until a familiar shoulder brushes mine.

“Your boyfriend ditch you?” Jaxon’s voice is low, teasing, beer bottle in hand.

“Not my boyfriend,” I say.

His mouth quirks. “Good thing the coach showed up. Looked like he was about to eat you alive.”

I meet his gaze, steady. “Maybe I wanted him to.”

The smirk fades, replaced with something tighter. A challenge. He nods toward a quiet corner of the yard. “Come on.”

He leads me to a koi pond hidden behind hedges, where the party’s chaos is just a dull hum. A stone bench waits in front of the water.

“Your brother know you were about to suck face over there?”

“I don’t need his permission. I’m not a little girl anymore.” I shift just enough for the dress to dip lower in the moonlight.

His gaze drags down, slow, then back up. “Yeah. I can see that.”

“Can I have a drink?” I ask, sugar in my tone.

“How much have you had?”

“Barely one beer.”

He studies me, then hands it over. Our fingers brush. I sip, hand it back, and he finishes it.

“All those summers you came to our house,” I say quietly, “I never thought we’d end up here. Sharing a beer.”

He almost laughs. “Yeah. I used to steal Oreos from your pantry until your scary-ass nanny would chase me off.”

“She wasn’t a nanny—just mean.”

“Still ratted me out.”

“You always came back, though.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just stares at the pond. I tuck my hands under my thighs.

“You were always there,” I murmur. “Then one day… you weren’t. I missed that. I missed you.”

His eyes flick to mine. “Yeah. I missed home too.”

Not you . Just home .

It burns more than I want to admit, but I didn’t come here for nostalgia. I came here to make him see me.

I shift closer, fingertips brushing the inside of his knee. “You know… I’ve always liked you.”

His eyes drop to my mouth. I wet my lips.

“I’ll be eighteen soon.”

“You just turned seventeen, Cricket.” His voice is rough now.

“Do you ever think about me?” My hand inches higher. “The way I think about you?”

“Cass—” He leans in, close enough for my pulse to roar in my ears. I tilt my head, certain my first kiss is coming?—

But his mouth brushes past mine, to my ear. “Go home, little Cricket.”

The words hit like a slap. He walks away, leaving me alone on the cold bench, dress too high, heart in my throat.

Humiliation curdles to heat in my chest. I stand, heels biting into the grass as I pass him without a glance.

My brother’s at the door, leaning in the frame, eyes flicking past me to Jaxon, then back again like he’s piecing it together.

I don’t explain. I don’t hide the flush in my cheeks or the tight set of my shoulders. I brush past him into the heat of the party, the door closing on the sound of my brother’s voice:

“Got a second, Jax?”

I don’t wait to hear the answer. I just find Bree, ready to pretend I never came looking for Jaxon Kane at all.

“ Y eah, fuck that guy,” Bree declares, her voice a little too loud, a little too echo-y in the weed room.

The windows are cracked open now, letting some of the smoke curl out into the night, but the scent still clings to everything—pillows, posters, the back of my throat.

We didn’t smoke anything, but we’re definitely buzzing. Two more beers between us, and one tragic cinnamon-flavored shot that burned like cheap soap and bad decisions.

“Yeah,” I echo, slumped beside her on the sagging couch, my knees pulled up and my hair slightly frizzed from the night air. “Fuck Jaxon Kane.”

A girl across the room looks up—college of course, probably a junior—her eyes sweeping over us with a mixture of judgment and disinterest. She leans back toward her friend like we’re nothing but background noise.

Maybe we are.

We’re definitely too loud.

But I don’t care.

“I’m totally hot,” I say, mostly to myself, but Bree nods enthusiastically like it’s gospel.

“Absolutely,” she says. “A full-on goddess.”

“I’m smart.”

“Top of our class,” she confirms.

“I’m a catch. Like, objectively.”

Bree leans in. “Like, if I were into girls, I’d be obsessed with you.”

I keep going. “And that guy—Matt— he wants to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me all night. Next time, I’m letting him.”

“ Yeah, ” Bree agrees, swaying a little. “He was totally hot.”

“I’m so over Jaxon Kane.”

She nods solemnly. “Preach.”

I sit up straighter, summoning whatever remnants of dignity I can. “In fact... I’m going to tell him.”

Bree’s head snaps toward me. “Wait, what?”

I push myself up from the couch, a little wobbly on my feet, my dress tugging awkwardly as I get my balance. “I am. I’m going to tell him that I don’t need him to kiss me anymore. Because someone else already did. Or... will. Soon.”

“You should. ” Bree slaps the couch for emphasis. “You go give that cocky bastard a piece of your mind.”

I nod, determined and fully committed to this plan that I probably would not commit to if I were sober.

I start to walk out of the room, brushing my fingers along the doorframe like that’ll steady me, when the girl from earlier—the one who looked annoyed—steps into my path.

Her smirk is lazy and unimpressed. “Looking for Jax?”

“Yes,” I say, trying to sound mature. And… not drunk.

I think I nail it.

She doesn’t agree. The corner of her mouth quirks up just slightly, like she finds me amusing.

“He’s upstairs,” she says. “Second door on the left.”

I expected her to be catty but she’s surprisingly helpful. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer—just turns back to her friend, laughter already spilling between them before I’m even out of earshot.

Each stair creaks under my heels, my hand trailing along the banister. My pulse hammers in my ears, my mouth dry. I feel both too heavy and too light, like gravity can’t decide what to do with me.

But I keep climbing.

He doesn’t get to ruin tonight. Not after the way he looked at me. Made me believe—if only for a second—that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Second door on the left.

My hand hesitates on the knob, just for a heartbeat. Then I turn it.

The door swings open, light spilling in from the hall.

At first, the shapes don’t make sense—just a tangle of limbs, skin, hair. Disjointed. Abstract.

Then it sharpens.

Jaxon sits sprawled on a couch, a massive bed behind him. Shirtless. Pants unzipped. His cock thick in one woman’s hand while another kisses the tip, both of them naked and laughing like they’ve done this before.

One leans in, moaning around him. The other strokes him lazily, eyes fixed on his face like they’re sharing a private joke. Then they kiss over him—tongues, wet sounds—before trading places, one swallowing him down while the other licks at the base.

My stomach drops. The warmth of the beer evaporates, leaving me cold and clear-headed in the worst way.

Jaxon hasn’t noticed me yet. His arms stretch across the back of the cushions, his head tipped back, enjoying the two women on their knees like a shared prize.

Then he lifts his head.

His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused but not unaware. He sees me standing there and doesn’t even look surprised.

He raises his drink to his lips and takes a slow pull, the motion lazy, while one of the girls continues working him in her mouth and the other trails kisses along his thigh.

His hand finds the crown of the girl’s head, fingers tangling in her hair as she bobs up and down on his cock.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” His voice is lazy, almost bored. One of the girls looks back at me and laughs. “Close the door on your way out, little girl.”

The words don’t hit all at once—they slide in like ice water, slow and numbing.

Something in me shifts. Not a dramatic shatter—just a clean, precise break.

He’s a fucking asshole.

This is who he is. This is his world—older, confident women who know exactly how to please him. Compared to them, I’m just a kid playing dress-up.

God, I’m such a fool.

My throat tightens. A single tear escapes before I can stop it.

“I hate you.”

It came out a soft whisper. Not a scream or a huff. Just a silently spoken truth.

I turn, pulling the door closed without checking if it latches. I just need to get out.

Down the stairs, every step a fight to keep from splintering apart. The music and laughter swell around me, a party still in full swing, but for me, something’s ended.

The girls laugh again from upstairs, sharp and careless. Bree calls my name from somewhere behind me, concern threading her voice, but I keep moving not looking back.

Because I know—in my bones, in my blood—that I will never want anything to do with Jaxon Kane again.