Page 29 of The Sole Suspect

I forced a polite smile, fighting the urge to dump my drink over his perfectly coiffed head. “The district’s history is worth preserving, Mr. Harrington. Some things can’t be measured in profit margins.”

Adelaide beamed at me approvingly while tension crackled in the air between us all, palpable enough to slice through with a knife.

Margaret Tang’s voice abruptly cut through the crowd, calling the auction to order. Penny squeezed my arm before we separated to take our places among the other participants. Anticipation filled the ballroom, a heady mix of nervousness and excitement.

My heart thundered as I watched Margaret ascend the stage and take a microphone. Soon it would be my turn on that stage. A bead of sweat trickled down my back—the room suddenly felt warmer than it had moments before.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Millcrest Historical Society’s Charity Bachelor and Bachelorette Auction,” Margaret announced, her voice carrying confidently through the ballroom. Her red silk cheongsam caught the chandelier light. “I’m Margaret Tang, your host for tonight’s festivities.”

She paused as polite applause rippled through the crowd. I spotted Dominic across the room, his cool-gray eyes finding mine instantly. He gave me a subtle nod that somehow calmed my racing pulse.

“Before we begin, let me quickly review our bidding procedures,” Margaret continued. “Each of you has been provided with a numbered paddle. When you wish to place a bid, simply raise your paddle so our spotters can see it clearly. Please keep your paddle raised until your bid is acknowledged.”

She gestured to several volunteers positioned strategically around the room. “Our spotters will be watching carefully, but if you’re concerned your bid hasn’t been seen, a gentle wave is sufficient—no need for enthusiastic gymnastics.” This earned a ripple of laughter from the crowd.

“Remember,” Margaret added with a warm smile, “every dollar raised tonight goes directly to preserving the architectural treasures of our beloved Historical District. Now, shall we begin?”

Sarah ascended the stage first, her lavender Edwardian-inspired gown drifting around her feet. She’d doubted the style, but Penny’s judgment proved spot-on, as it typically did.

The first bid of the night came from the owner of a fine art gallery in Downtown Millcrest. His paddle shot up before Margaret finished introducing Sarah, eliciting a chorus of laughs from the crowd. His alpha pheromones spiked with interest as Sarah twirled in her bespoke dress, showing off Penny’s styling expertise.

The bidding for Minnie’s nephew Thomas pulled an unexpected laugh from me. A visiting professor from a famous Boston university perched on the edge of her seat, her paddle bobbing up at each opportunity. Her enthusiasm brought a blush to Thomas’s cheeks that matched the rose boutonnière on his lapel.

Rosie’s granddaughter Emma sparked real competition. A Boston newspaper editor and the new bookshop owner that recently opened in Downtown Millcrest traded increasingly heated bids, their alpha pheromones charging the air. The editor’s triumphant grin when he won with a $2,800 bid spoke of more than just charity spirit.

Then Jake took the stage.

My chest tightened at his appearance. The borrowed suit hung wrong on his thin frame despite Penny’s efforts to refit it, thecollar clearly too tight as he tugged at it. He fidgeted with a nervous energy, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Our next bachelor,” Margaret announced, “Jake Thompson brings both culinary expertise and?—”

“One thousand.” A smooth voice cut through her introduction. The Italian accent curled around the words like smoke.

Jake froze. His face drained of color as his gaze fell on the mysterious bidder seated at one of the tables in the back. Even from my position, I caught the violent tremor in Jake’s hands.

The stranger—Mr. Romano, according to his paddle—cut an imposing figure in his perfectly tailored Italian suit. His dark eyes never left Jake as he doubled his own bid without waiting for competition.

“Sold to Mr. Romano,” Margaret’s gavel crack barely registered before Jake bolted. I watched him vanish through the exit at the side of the room.

My feet moved to follow him, concern overriding protocol, but Margaret’s voice stopped me cold.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, Leo Sterling-Hart of Cobblers’ Corner.”

I hesitated, torn between helping Jake and fulfilling my obligation to the charity. My eyes scanned the crowd, catching Adelaide’s subtle nod toward the stage. She mouthed “I’ll check” and slipped away toward the door Jake had used. Reluctantly, I turned toward the stage, another wave of unexpected warmth coursing through me as I climbed the steps.

From this vantage point, the sea of faces blurred together, but Dominic’s steel-gray gaze burned into me with laser focus. Thespotlights blazed hot against my skin. I tugged at my collar, suddenly feeling feverish.

Mrs. Tang’s voice rang clear through the ballroom. “Our next bachelor, Leo Sterling-Hart is the proprietor of our district’s beloved Cobblers’ Corner. A master craftsman carrying on his family’s legacy of fine shoemaking for over a century in our town...”

Hannah from the bookshop lifted her paddle with a friendly smile. “Five hundred.”

“Two thousand.” Blake’s smooth interjection sent the bid soaring, his casual tone belying the significant jump.

Another alpha—the CEO of a new tech startup—raised his paddle. “Three thousand.”

“Four.” Blake cut him off with practiced ease, his baby-blue eyes gleaming with private amusement.

The room’s atmosphere shifted as Dominic straightened in his chair. His woodsy scent sharpened, sending a delicious tingle straight to the pit of my stomach. My omega instincts recognized that possessive edge.