Blind Side(59)

She dismissed herself from the media frenzy, pulling Kyle Robbins up to the podium to take her place. He launched into his interview easily, and Giana watched only for a moment before slipping away, the hem of her black dress gliding along the tile as she floated to me.

“Wow,” she breathed, letting out a low whistle as her eyes ran the length of me. “I knew you could clean up, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black tux look this good.”

She smiled with the compliment, all light and easy and playful like we’d always been. It set my heart on fire, but I masked it as best I could by the time she found my gaze again, knowing those were feelings I would need to bury alive if necessary.

“And I didn’t know slits could go this high,” I mused, arching a brow at her exposed thigh. “No glasses?”

“Contacts,” she answered easy, but then, she frowned. “Does it… do I look okay?”

“You look…” I bit my lip against everything I wanted to say, landing on a quiet, “breathtaking.”

She blushed, stepping next to me and slipping her arm around mine. “Come on, let’s get you mingling so you can steal some poor rich woman’s money and make me look good on that auction stage.”

“Is that my job tonight?” I asked. “Make you look good?”

“And raise a lot of money for charity,” she added.

Her smile slipped a bit when we passed through the entryway, not even needing to do more than nod to the volunteers taking tickets. They knew who I was.

I marveled at how the club had been transformed, the uplighting and dance floor, the champagne fountain and various waiters walking around with appetizers and hors d’oeuvres. Every member of the team had cleaned up for the occasion, and even Holden looked relaxed where he drank water as a group of older women fawned over him.

“Maliyah is already here,” Giana said quietly when we made our way into the space. “She looks beautiful. And I… I overheard something.”

I just swallowed, looking down at where she still clung to my arm.

“I think she really misses you, Clay. I think… I think our plan is working.” Her eyes searched mine. “She told a group of the cheerleaders in the bathroom that she wants you back.”

I blinked at her reveal of information, waiting for it to hit me, to strike me in the chest, to fill me up with hope or the sense of pride I felt after winning a game.

But I felt nothing.

Two months ago — hell, even one month ago, I would have leapt for joy, or perhaps even cried. I would have run to Maliyah. I would have held her in my arms and begged her to take me back, to believe in us, to see the future I had always seen.

But now, that future was nothing but a foggy, distant dream — one I couldn’t see clearly anymore.

One I had no desire to ever chase again.

I didn’t know what to say, but I tried to pretend to be happy, to fake like that was the news I’d been waiting for.

“Well,” I said, grinning as best I could. “She can eat her heart out when she sees you on my arm tonight.”

Giana tried to return my smile, but there was a bend to her brows that tainted it, and before either of us could say anything else, Charlotte Banks strolled up to us.

“Giana, it’s time,” she said, offering me a small smile before she pulled Giana off my arm. “We’ve got the first five teammates lined up next to the stage and ready to go.”

Giana looked over her shoulder at me as her boss pulled her away.

Her eyes were as mysterious as the ocean depths.





Giana



From the moment I was pulled away from Clay and shoved onto the auction stage quite unwillingly, the night flew.

I blacked out for most of it, nerves rattling my bones as I somehow managed to stand at the podium, to speak loud and clear, to introduce each teammate and their date before accepting bids from the audience.

I wasn’t a natural. I didn’t crack well-timed jokes or charm the room with my dazzling personality the way I’d watched my mother and sisters do all my life. But I did speak clearly, with my chin held high, and with enough confidence to fool the room into thinking this wasn’t so entirely out of my comfort zone that I was certain I’d vomit the moment I stepped off stage.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” I spoke into the microphone, a warm smile touching my lips when I saw who was next on the list. “Refill your champagne and get those paddles ready, because this next date is one you won’t want to lose. Please help me welcome to the stage, Clay Johnson!”

Polite cheers rang out just like they had all through the auction, but there were also some whistles and little screams of excitement that pierced through the air. Bidders really couldn’t go wrong with any of the date auctions tonight, but where some of the players were won by affluent older women in the community who would donate the money for the cause without taking the actual date, others were fought over by NBU students. They weren’t here just for charity — they were here for a husband.

And they were out for blood when it came to the top players.

Clay approached the stage from the stairs behind me, his hand brushing the small of my back as he passed. I flushed, though I didn’t look back at him, not even when chills raced from where he’d touched me all the way up to my ears.