Marry Me, G. Hauser [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

still wining and dining our

wonderful patrons, yes? And we haven’t even begun the

auction.” She appeared concerned. “Go freshen up. Have you

need of a drink?”

“Do I look like hell?” He ran his hand over his hair again in

panic.

She held his hand and walked with him to a men’s room.

“Go. Just take a deep breath and splash your face.”

“Oh, God! How shitty do I look?”

“I’ll have nice drink for you. What do you enjoy?”

“Christ. Uh, tequila. I started on it, may as well end on it.”

She nodded and walked off. Braxton entered the men’s room

to see his reflection. He didn’t look too bad, just rushed, flushed and out of breath.

With both hands he leaned on the sink and tried to calm

down. He hadn’t eaten anything but a few puff pastries at the

premiere and imagined a gourmet meal. But that would have to

wait.

After a few deep breaths, Braxton splashed his face and tried

to get his unruly mane of hair to behave. He relieved himself and

met Sophia outside the bathroom. She held out a shot glass and a

wedge of lime.

He thanked her, shot the booze down and chewed the tart

fruit. Once he was done, she took both items back and looked

into his eyes. “Darling, you are fabulous. Stop worrying. You are

the highlight. Who cares about a trip to Hawaii when they can

have you?”

“No one thinks I’m going to have sex with them, right?” He

ran his hand through his hair again, the booze hitting him hard

on an empty stomach.

“Of course not! Is a dinner date. Just three dinner. No sex.”

“Three with the same person?”

“No! Three, each with one person. Braxton, you knew this.

Three dates, one each.”

“Three.” He tried to loosen his collar. He knew that. Didn’t

he? Yes. He was just stressed out and on overload.

“Come. Let me get you another drink. And someone needs to

brush your beautiful locks.” She held his hand and dragged him

off.

Chapter 5

Fabian finished his beer as the pizza and salad were placed at

their table.

“Another round?” the waitress asked.

“I’m good.” Naomi nodded.

“Yes.” Fabian handed her his empty glass.

“Great! Save room for dessert, the crème brulee is to die for!”

Stopping the urge to make another comment at how happy

that woman was, Fabian took a slice of pizza to his plate, the

aroma was making his mouth water. “Braxton is being auctioned

off tonight.”

“Oh, is that the two thousand dollar a plate thing you

mentioned.” Naomi scooped salad onto her dish.

“Yeah. Can you imagine? Being so hot and in demand you

can have an evening with you make a charity money?”

“Some people would pay to sit where I am right now, with

the fabulous Fabian Rhys.”

He laughed. “You’re so good for my ego.” He blew on the

slice, folded it and tasted it. “Mm.”

“The salad is fantastic too.” Naomi ate a bite then asked,

“Why do you think you are anything less than a man like

Braxton?”

“I don’t know. Money? Fame? Looks?”

“You know…that attitude? That self-doubt? That may come

out when you interview for a job.”

“Naomi!” He blinked in surprise at her candor.

“I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “Fabian, do you own a

mirror? You’re hot. But it’s not just that, you’re nice. You’re

sweet, you’re intelligent…”

“Okay.” He held up his hand to stop her. “I wasn’t fishing.”

“You don’t go into a job interview thinking you suck, right?”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m overqualified, if anything.”

She nodded. “Good…mm, that pizza is great.”

“I know. Right? Beats the two grand a plate meal any day.”

He smiled.

“Damn straight!” Naomi laughed

“Love you,” Fabian said, giving her a wink.

~

Braxton was drunk.

Sophia obviously thought he needed Dutch courage to strut

his stuff on stage. She was right. He was no celebrity, he was a

behind the scenes kind of guy, and now? A nervous wreck.

Terrible thoughts seized him, all from no one bidding on him—

at all—since he had a very bad reputation in the tabloids as a

whore, or having super cougars like Jean bid on him and paw at

him at dinner.

A young assistant brushed Braxton’s hair. She came out of

nowhere so he jumped at her touch.

Sophia calmed him. “I ask her to fluff you up, you sexy boy.”

“Fluff me?” Braxton imagined a different type of fluffing.

“I’m dying here, Sophia. Do I have to go through with this?”

“No. Walk away. Go.” She wasn’t mad, just annoyed at his

obstinacy. She waved him away. “Ciao.”

Braxton stopped whining like a little girl, stood tall and felt

resolved. “Let me at ‘em.”

“Grrr,” the woman brushing his hair said.

“Darling…” Sophia touched his hair gently, nudging it out of

his eyes. “You are worth plenty. Let them pay and help our

cause.”

“Yes. Gotcha.” Battle ready, Braxton was led right outside

the curtained staging area where an excursion to Honolulu had

just been bid on.

The announcer slash auctioneer was given a cue.

“And now ladies and gentlemen…the moment all of you have

been waiting for…”

Braxton’s heart began beating hard against his ribs.

“Tonight you’ll have the opportunity to bid on three dinner

dates—one at The Palm, one at this lovely hotel right here, and

one at the Café la Boheme—with one of the most powerful,

handsome, sought after men in Hollywood.”

A murmur of noise came from the large crowd.

Braxton tried not to imagine sneers of people who imagined

he was a sexual disease carrier. Though he had a lot of

‘experience’ he was clean and didn’t consider himself too much

of a slut. Not too much. At least not lately.

“Braxton Todd!”

Sophia pushed him from behind and Braxton walked into the

spotlights, terrified. A huge roar of applause, whistles, and

catcalls, rang out. He nodded politely to the auctioneer who was

grinning wickedly at him, as if he knew how much Braxton was

going to bring in.

His image was being projected, up close, on the big screen

behind him as he walked to the front of the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, have your bidding cards ready

because this is going to be one heck of a ride!”

Braxton could barely see beyond the stage spotlights. He

unbuttoned the tuxedo jacket, put his hands into his pants

pockets, and tried to look calm.

“Here we go! Opening bid of one thousand! Can I see one

thousand?” the auctioneer began his speed talking and the house

lights went up so the paddles with numbers could be seen and

acknowledged.

There