Page 38 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)
I t’s been hours since she left.
I’ve tried to distract myself—answered a few work emails, reviewed technical contracts, even took a few laps in my pool—but every time I stop moving, the same thought comes back.
I should’ve gone with her.
I lean back against the couch, my phone in my hand like it’s an extension of my own damn body. Cassidy’s bitmoji still hovers over her parents’ house on Snap Map. That’s the only thing keeping me from grabbing my keys and showing up uninvited. At least she’s still there.
I’m kicking myself for not pushing harder this morning. For not making her tell me whatever the hell she’s been holding back. I saw it in her eyes—the secret she wasn’t ready to share. I thought giving her space would help. That she’d come to me on her own, trust me enough to tell me the truth.
That she’d believe me when I say I would do anything for her.
The city skyline spreads out past my floor-to-ceiling windows, the glass gleaming with the fading orange light of early evening. I can’t seem to take it in tonight—the view’s wasted on me. My chest feels tight, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears.
I type out a quick message.
JAXON: You okay?
My thumb hovers over the screen, wondering if that sounds too clipped, too impersonal. I hit send anyway.
One minute passes. Then two.
Nothing.
I stand, pacing toward the glass, the reflection of my own restless shadow moving with me. My hand tightens around my phone until my knuckles ache. I tell myself she’s just busy. Talking with her mom. Sorting out whatever she went there for.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Fuck. Finally.
Relief lasts exactly half a second—until I read the message.
CASSIDY: I made a mistake getting involved with you. I shouldn’t have strung you along, but I was using you. It’s better if we go our separate ways.
What the fuck?
My lungs forget how to work. The room seems too quiet, the kind of silence that presses in on you until you can hear your own pulse.
I was using you.
The words echo in my head, ugly and sharp, carving through every moment we’ve shared until they don’t even look real anymore. No laughter. No heat. No soft mornings with her curled into me. Just a con, start to finish.
No. No, she wouldn’t?—
I dial her number and it rings twice—then voicemail.
She fucking sent me to her voicemail. I call again. Same thing. My call is rejected.
The third time it goes straight to voicemail. Again when I call back.
Did she fucking block me?
JAXON: Cass, what’s going on?
Nothing. No delivered notice. She’s cut me off.
My grip tightens around the phone until my knuckles ache, until I’m seconds from crushing it in my palm. The urge to throw it into the wall claws at me, to hear it shatter and see it die so I can go back. Back three minutes ago, when she was still mine?—
Except she was never mine.
Apparently, I was just a pawn in whatever game she was playing.
The burn in my chest ignites into something else—something sharper. Anger. At her. At myself for letting her in, for thinking I could keep her.
My breath is coming in too fast. Taking in too much of the air around me. The air that smells like her. Sweet and warm and fucking everywhere, clinging to my sheets, the couch, my skin. It’s suffocating.
I can’t fucking breathe here. I’ve gotta get out of here.
I grab my helmet and keys, not giving a shit where I’m going, just knowing I can’t stay.
I don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m pulling into the back lot of The Gym .
Lucian’s already here, hands wrapped, sweat darkening his shirt. He glances up when I walk in, eyebrows lifting like I’m the last person he expected. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. The storm in my chest doesn’t leave room for words.
“Get taped up,” he says, nodding toward the counter. “You’re getting in the ring.”
Fine.
It’s muscle memory—wrapping my hands, stepping through the ropes—while my head is still stuck on her text. Lucian’s posture is loose, ready for a warm-up. Mine isn’t.
I swing. Hard.
He dodges, surprise flashing across his face.
“What the hell, Kane?”
I don’t answer—I just swing again. Then again.
“Jesus—” He blocks, but my fists keep coming faster, harder, heat burning through my veins. A kick follows, then another punch—this one cracks against his guard and slips through, landing solid.
That’s all it takes.
The gate blows open, and everything I’ve been holding back comes pouring out. “Come on,” I growl, another strike flying. “Move!”
Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. I’m hitting harder than I should, moving like I’m trying to break something—anything—that isn’t me. Swing. Miss. Connect. Again.
Lucian’s throwing shots back now, his voice clipped between blows. “What—” block “—is—” counter “—your—” jab “—problem?”
I barely hear him. My pulse is a roar, drowning out everything but the need to keep going.
Then he catches me—one hit that rattles my fucking skull, and before I can recover, he’s behind me. My feet leave the mat as he locks me into a hold and takes me down hard.
“What the fuck is your problem, Kane?” His voice is sharp, controlled.
I thrash against him, teeth gritted, adrenaline still driving me. My fists are trapped, my chest heaving.
“Let me go,” I snap.
“Not until you stop swinging at me like you’ve lost your damn mind.” His tone is level, but there’s steel under it.
I shove again, jerking against his hold. “I have lost my mind.”
“What happened?” His grip only tightens. “Is it Cassidy?”
Her name coming out of his mouth hits harder than any punch he’s thrown tonight. I grit my teeth, my anger renewed. “Don’t say her fucking name.”
“Jax.” He shakes me once, sharp enough to snap my focus to him. “What. The fuck. Happened?”
He lets me go, pushing me away to give us both some space. I know it’s in case he needs to hold me back again.
“It wasn’t real.” I bite out.
But the words make the fight drain out of me in pieces—anger first, then the strength to keep pretending I’m fine. My shoulders sag, my hands go slack. “None of it was real,” I manage, voice low, raw.
My steps falter backwards until I hit the post behind me. I slide down it, sitting on the floor and letting the weight of her dismissal crush me.
Lucian waits only a second before he’s kneeling next to me. “Tell me what happened.”
“It wasn’t fucking real,” I bite out, and then it’s like everything I’ve been holding together unravels at once. My breath catches hard. “None of it was. She—” I cut myself off, my throat tight, “—I thought she felt the same. I told her I loved her.”
My eyes burn and tears fall heavy down my cheeks.
“She was only using me and I’m the fucking idiot who didn’t see it.”
“Jaxon.” He says my name the way you’d talk to someone standing on a ledge.
“She fucking told me to go fuck myself and then she blocked me.” My vision blurs, and I hate it. I look at my hands, red and shaking, then I ball them into fists and cover my eyes.
“How did I get this so wrong?”
Lucian doesn’t say anything for a while. After a moment, he sits next to me. I cry. The pain leaking out of me with no way to stop it.
“I don’t think that’s true, buddy.” Lucian’s voice is low. Either uncomfortable or unsure if I’m still a bomb ready to explode. “Any idiot could see she was in love with you the night of the auction. And you were in love with her.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. My tears are beginning to slow and I wipe my nose on the back of my hand.
“I am in love with her.” I nearly whisper it.
“Then figure it out.” He says it like it’s so simple. “You said there was something she wasn’t telling you. Maybe there is more to that than you know.”
My heart is pounding. My mind starting to rush back to me.
“You really going to tell me you’re going to let one little blocked number stop you?”
That makes me look at him. He cocks half a grin but it’s not out of humor. It’s a challenge.
“Step back,” he says evenly. “Look at it again when your head’s clear. You’ll find what you missed.”
I swallow hard trying to ease whatever is making my throat constrict.
“Then what?”
“Then you go get your fucking girl.” He pauses a beat. “And you tear the whole goddamn world apart if you have to.”