Page 8 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

T he smell hits first—slow-roasted meats, warm tortillas, something cheesy and fried. It’s a full-body assault. I could die happy right here in this parking lot.

But instead of heading to the trucks, Jaxon veers off toward one of the empty picnic tables near the string lights. He spreads a leather jacket I hadn’t noticed on one of the benches and pats it.

“Sit.”

I blink. “I can’t sit on your jacket.”

The look he gives me in response makes my stomach dip and my thighs clench.

“You could sit—” he cuts himself off, glancing away briefly, then back. “You can sit on it.”

His jaw ticks and I sit, pretending not to notice. He doesn’t push, which is somehow worse.

Before I can gather a retort, I hear footsteps behind me. An older woman—short, round, and radiating grandmother energy —approaches with two paper baskets filled to the brim with tacos. A young boy, maybe ten, follows with another set of baskets, steam rising from the contents.

The woman grabs Jaxon’s cheeks like he’s five years old and kisses both of them loudly, muttering something in Spanish too fast for me to follow.

Jaxon responds fluently. I had no idea he could speak Spanish.

I pretend to be extremely interested in whatever’s hiding under all that chopped chicken.

The woman pulls two bottles of orange soda from her apron along with sets of plasticware, handing them off with a smile. Then she and the boy vanish like food-truck fairies into the night.

He cracks open one soda and hands it to me before opening his own.

I finally dig through the pile of food—and gasp.

“Are these… tell me these are cheese arepas.”

He smirks over his bottle, leaning back against the table edge. “They’re cheese arepas.”

I nearly sob.

“They’re just like those ones at that horse track you guys used to take Warcry to.”

The name hits me like a whip crack—our prized black stallion growing up. Dominion’s sire. Fierce, wild, untamable. Suddenly I’m nine years old again at the racetrack with my mom. Sitting with Jaxon and my dad eating cheese arepas. Warcry starting the legacy that Dominion would finish.

I tear into the food like it holds the answers to life’s mysteries. One bite in, and my eyes flutter closed as the creamy cheese, crispy edges, and spiced chicken melt across my tongue.

I moan. “Oh my God.”

Eyes closed, head tilted back slightly, pure bliss in edible form.

When I open my eyes, Jaxon is staring at me. Not subtly, either.

He’s got the end of the plastic fork between his teeth, not even pretending to eat. His expression is somewhere between curiosity and something darker. Something I’m afraid to name.

“I’ve been searching for arepas like these for years, ” I manage between bites. “And you’ve known about this place the entire time? ”

I stab the top of his hand with my fork—lightly. Playfully.

He doesn’t even flinch. Just grins and finally takes a bite.

We eat. We talk. And somehow, it’s… easy.

Too easy.

That’s what makes it dangerous because I have to keep Jaxon Kane on the other side of that closed door.

“You’re richer than God and you’re getting free tacos from food-truck Abuela? You’re the worst.”

He shrugs, all smooth nonchalance. “I pay their bills.”

I pause, my eyes widening. “You pay their bills?”

“Maria threatened to cut off my fingers if I tried to pay for the tacos too.”

That makes me laugh—unexpected and full. It slips out of me before I can stop it. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s serious,” he continues. “I keep the lights on. She feeds me.”

“But… why?”

“Have you seen me in a kitchen? I’d blow up half of Manhattan.”

“No, you idiot.” Only I could get away with calling the one of the worlds smartest men an idiot. “Why do you pay their bills?”

He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. “Because I can. And they’re good people.”

He says it like it’s nothing.

Like it didn’t probably change their lives.

I study him for a second longer, chewing slower now. This boy who pulled a live cricket from my hair, forever coining my nickname, has turned into a man who hands over rent money like it’s spare change and speaks Spanish like he was born into it.

But what gets me most… is the way he still knows exactly what I love.

Not just the tacos, but the arepas. The ones exactly like the racetrack where I have some of my happiest memories.

When my mom was full of life and healthy. I’d almost forgotten what she looked like back then.

But one bite, and it’s like every memory surged forward in perfect detail.

“Thank you,” I murmur before I even realize I’ve said anything.

Jaxon looks over, brows lifting slightly.

Then he flicks a piece of shredded chicken at my forehead.

“Hey!”

“You were getting too sentimental,” he says with a smirk. “Had to keep you humble.”

B y the time we hit the quiet stretch of road that winds out of the city and into the hills, my stomach is full, my skin still warm from the soft glow of string lights—and my mood is surprisingly light.

Until his phone rings and the name on the screen flashes bright.

Eve.

And just like that, the air turns sour.

I glance at it, then look away quickly, annoyed with myself. It’s not like I have any claim over him. I don’t. We aren’t anything.

He answers on speaker, casual. “Yeah?”

The woman doesn’t wait. She launches in like she owns the line.

“Jax, this is an emergency.”

Jax.

Huh. Only his friends call him that. So, at minimum, she’s in deep enough to drop the nickname.

I bite my tongue, turning my face toward the window.

“I left my lucky hair clip in your car the other day.”

Oh, perfect.

His girlfriend was just sitting in this very seat, apparently marking her territory with claw clips.

I glance down. Sure enough, nestled in the door’s compartment is a brown clip.

I pick it up and hand it to him.

No words. No eye contact.

I feel his gaze flick over to me, linger longer than it should.

“Who the fuck has a lucky hair clip?” he mutters.

“I do,” Eve snaps back. “And I need it for the auction tomorrow.”

Auction?

A chill prickles across my arms.

Auction.

For a second, my chest tightens—because that word hits too close to home. But the auction for our estate is still a week out.

Still… the way she says it. Like it’s important. Like she expects him to be there.

“I told you, I don’t go to the auction,” Jaxon says, completely unfazed.

Eve huffs. “Fine. I’ll swing by and pick it up.”

Wonderful.

She knows where he lives.

He’s definitely fucked her. Or is fucking her.

I cross my arms tighter and turn away from him completely. The countryside whips by, dark and blurred, but I can still feel his eyes on me in the reflection.

“Sure,” he says at last, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Stop by whenever.”

They hang up and the silence stretches between us, brittle and heavy. He doesn’t say a word—but I can tell he’s waiting. Bracing to see if I’ll crack first and I do. I just can’t help it.

“Your girlfriend sounds very pretty.”

My voice betrays me. It cracks on girlfriend , and I hate myself for it.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says evenly. “Eve’s just a good friend.”

“Hm.”

I don’t believe him.

Men and women don’t just stay friends without attraction being involved. Especially not when they’re the kind of good friends who leave hair clips behind in luxury sports cars.

“So,” I ask, trying to redirect the acid bubbling in my chest. “What’s this auction?”

He’s quiet for a beat too long.

“Ah… nothing. Just a charity auction The Black Ledger hosts it every year.”

“And you don’t go because you’re morally opposed to donating to charity?”

When I turn to look at him again, his lips are twisted in a smug little smile. A secret tucked behind his teeth.

“Let’s just say,” he says slowly, “they’re not auctioning off the typical charity gala items you’re used to seeing from the uber-rich.”

He turns up the long gravel road to our property. The white fencing catches the headlights like bone, glowing ghostly in the dark.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I press.

He glances at me, all shadows, and sharp edges.

“They’re a bit more… carnal in nature.”

I blink because that confuses me more.

And pisses me off.

He’s talking in riddles, smug and mysterious and maddening. And now all I can think about is the woman who had this seat before me, maybe even got these same fucking tacos, breathed in this same cologne.

Suddenly nothing feels special.

Right back to where I started remembering why I keep him on the other side of a door that I can never open. Never again.

He barely rolls to a stop when I grab the handle and try to yank the door open.

“Thanks for the lift.” It doesn’t open and I swear under my breath. “Is there a way out of this death trap?”

He’s holding back a grin, but his eyes are smoldering. Then, without warning, he leans across me. His entire body invades my space—his shoulder brushing mine, his breath warm against my neck. I suck in a sharp gasp and that was the wrong move.

It goes right past his ear.

He definitely heard it.

He probably also heard me inhale him like some deranged cologne-sniffing junkie.

Goddammit.

He pops the door open effortlessly, then looks at me. Voice low. Warm. Intimate.

“Good night, Cricket.”

I say nothing. Just step out and slam the door harder than necessary.

Screw him.

I don’t have time to play games with the dickwad from my past who needs to stay there. I’ve got to figure out how to save my house.

But as I walk up the steps, his words echo in my head.

They’re a bit more carnal in nature…

What the hell does that mean?

Are people selling… themselves?

And he said “the uber-rich.”

If that’s true… this might be exactly what I need. Because I may not have money, power, or connections. But I do have one thing of value.

And I’ve been looking for the right person to give it to for weeks now.

Maybe this is my saving grace.

A soft whinny cuts through the dark, and I turn toward the stables.

Saving Grace. Our other champion. The one pregnant with Dominion’s foal. The one I named when I was ten, believing in signs and fairy tales.

She kicks once, like punctuation.

My smile is faint, but real.

Maybe it is fate.

And Jaxon won’t be there. He said so himself. And with my brother gone, this is sounding more perfect by the second.

As I step into the house and close the door behind me, Jaxon’s taillights disappear down the road like the last flicker of a warning I’m going to ignore.

I don’t know what this Black Ledger auction is but by morning, I will.