Page 24 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

The gala is a masquerade, so they’re both wearing masks, but how can you miss him?

His strong, freshly shaven jaw, the way he stands confident and powerful, and his midnight stare looking straight into my soul through the screen.

My skin prickles at the mere sight of this man, making me question ever saying no to him.

I’m left with zero doubts on what I need to do next.

“I gotta go,” I tell the girls, and Bee laughs as Victoria says goodbye. I don’t care that they know exactly what happened. I need to get there, quick. Volatile? Yes. Do I care? Apparently not.

I hop out of bed and message Martin, the driver Gus told me I could call any time I needed to go somewhere. Then, I start getting ready for this event and hope they allow people to show up last minute.

Well, five hundred dollars later, I’m sitting at a table at this fancy fundraiser, wearing a dress I stole from Cara’s closet.

The best part about having an older sister with the same body type as you.

It’s an emerald green gown with a deep v-cut, showcasing my sternum and my collarbone tattoo perfectly.

It has a slit up to my mid-thigh, sheer panels throughout.

Cara’s taller than me, so I had to wear the highest heels I could find so I wouldn’t drag this dress across the floor.

I top it off with black high heels and a black mask I found in her room to make me look lethal.

I’ve been scanning the buzzing room since I got here, and I haven’t seen Gus.

The blonde from the livestream is sitting at one of the tables, but the chair beside her has been empty.

I grab my phone from the black clutch and message him.

I changed his contact name to DLS, short for Dirty Little Secret, from a day I kept texting and deleting a text all day.

I needed to make fun of the situation, for my sake.

Me: Remember when you said money was to be spent?

DLS: Hello to you too, Nellie. Yes, I remember.

Me: How do you feel about your money being spent for a good cause?

DLS: It’s the best investment. Why?

Because I’m about to bet on a date with you, and I’m hoping you’ll pay if it’s more than I can afford. He said he wanted me to, so I’m just following his wishes.

Me: Even if it’s your money?

DLS: Especially if it’s my money. Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going ?

I’m sure I missed something, because by the time I entered the room, there were plates being removed from tables and glasses taken away.

I’m starting to wonder if I missed most of it, but at the soft murmur of the crowd fading to a hush as the heavy velvet curtains at the back of the stage slowly pull open, I know the auction is about to start. It’s show time.

Gus steps out from the shadows, tall and confident, his posture straight but casual, the way someone who is used to being watched holds themselves.

His hair is just a little too perfect, and the sharp lines of his jaw catch the light in a way that makes the room hold its breath.

He’s wearing the tailored suit I saw on the live, but in person, I can see how it hugs his frame in all the right places.

I’m sure at this moment, it’s worth whatever the cost. His eyes scan the crowd as he walks toward the podium, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

There’s something about the way he moves, almost as though he’s gliding, as if this moment is routine to him, and not like he’s stopping everyone in their tracks as we look at him. Cool, cool, cool.

The stage lights shine down, casting a warm glow on his perfectly tawny skin.

He stops at the podium, his gaze lingering on the crowd like he’s searching.

Searching for what, Gus? His presence is magnetic, and for a second, the room feels smaller, like everyone’s leaning in just a little closer, drawn to him and everything he represents—class, effortless confidence, money, power.

The auctioneer stands beside him, nodding, a practiced grin on her face.

I guess we’re starting with the date. Cool, cool, cool.

Gus turns toward her for a moment, flashing her his panty-melting smile, and she immediately blushes.

Good to see I’m not the only one completely smitten by a simple smile from this man.

My confidence goes out the window when I realize he doesn’t smile like that just for me.

I’m not an idiot; I didn’t assume he was as starstruck with me as I am with him, but a girl can dream .

“Alright, alright, folks,” the auctioneer calls.

“We’ve seen plenty of great items up for bidding tonight, but now, we get to the main event.

Let’s talk about a special…experience. A once-in-a-lifetime chance.

The gentleman you see here beside me is no ordinary man.

We’re talking about a one-on-one date with none other than Augusto Zabana.

Let it be known that Mr. Zabana has been a donor to our cause for years, and every year, this is our highest bidding experience, so get the paddles ready.

The lucky winner will get dinner, conversation, and a surprise I’m sure will make a night to remember.

” So it did start before. Shit, I almost missed his bid.

Gus tilts his head, that knowing smile of his never quite fading. His gaze flickers across the crowd, making brief eye contact with a few people in the front row. He looks like a man used to being admired, desired, and he knows exactly how to wield that power to his advantage.

“Let’s start the bidding at five thousand,” the auctioneer announces.

Immediately, hands shoot up around the room, the competitive energy palpable. The first bid comes in at five thousand, then another voice rises, offering five hundred more. Gus doesn’t react, doesn’t even blink, as the numbers start climbing. Holy shit, I’m outbid already.

“Five thousand five hundred!” someone calls.

“Six thousand!” another voice shouts.

Gus shifts his weight slightly, uncrossing his arms, though he remains perfectly composed. The bidding picks up momentum, numbers rising as the audience gets caught in the thrill.

“Seven thousand!” comes a call from the back, a man’s voice cutting through the chatter. Holy shit, okay. Wrong from me to assume only women would be bidding.

“Seven thousand five hundred!” a woman at the front counters, and there’s a subtle chuckle from Gus, as though he’s enjoying the show .

“Eight thousand!” someone else calls out, their voice full of determination, almost as if the idea of losing Gus’ attention is unbearable.

“Eight thousand five hundred.” The voice is confident, firm, and the crowd quiets as it lands, the number hanging in the air like a challenge.

The auctioneer holds up a hand to signal the highest bid then looks to Gus, who finally breaks his gaze from the audience to glance at the auctioneer. There’s a small, almost imperceptible nod, and the auctioneer’s grin widens.

Gus pauses for a second before he moves to leave the stage, his eyes briefly flicking toward me.

His eyes flare for a split second, almost unrecognizable, but I notice before he covers it up with his calm, collected expression.

There’s something in the way he looks at me that makes my pulse quicken, even when he’s masking whatever it is he’s trying to convey.

No matter the bids and the voices around us, his gaze never leaves mine.

How much money is too much money? I think it might be crossing the line, so I don’t raise the paddle.

“Eight thousand five hundred, going once… Going twice…” The suspense builds as the auctioneer drags out the moment, scanning the room to make sure no one has a higher bid.

“Nine thousand,” I shout. Holy shit, I did it. Gus smiles at me, proud. Okay, Gus. Okay.

“Ten thousand,” someone shouts.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and when I shake my head no, in silent communication that I won’t bid on the date anymore because this is where I draw the line, he smirks and nods softly.

“Ten thousand, going once.”

His eyes widen as the blonde hostess looks around to see if anyone would try to outbid the very eager redhead smiling wickedly at Gus.

I narrow my eyes at her, closing my thumb between my fingers before looking back at Gus.

I find him staring at me with a wicked smile and showing me five fingers.

Five? Five what? Five hundred more? My eyes widen, and when I mouth five hundred more to him, he nods.

“Ten thousand, going twice.”

He nods again, this time subtly, so I bring my paddle up as I say, “Ten thousand five hundred.” I’m going to throw up. This is insanity. He smiles bigger at me, not caring who sees.

Not a girl in the vicinity keeps their eyes on what’s happening on stage.

They all turn and look at me. I sit up taller, turn my eyes on them, and smile proudly to see if anyone else will raise the bid.

Fuck them. If Gus wants me to play, I’m playing, and if he doesn’t care who sees he’s clearly looking at me, then so be it.

“Twelve thousand,” the redhead says, bringing her paddle up and flicking her hair to the back, not looking at me for one second.

Okay, girl, it’s not my fault you want the same man.

The man I had in my bed a month ago. Well, his bed, actually.

The man I’ve been rejecting for a month. The man I can’t get out of my head.

Part of the audience turns to look at me, but I’m nervous to bid more.

When I look at Gus, I find him smiling wide, two fingers flashing in front of him, his other hand forming a zero.

Twenty thousand dollars? I know for someone like him, that may not be a lot of money, but that’s just insane.

He narrows his eyes, as if he can hear my thoughts and hesitations, and moves his fingers even faster. Fuck.

“Going on?—”