Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,19

Street soup kitchen charity are… Six million five hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”

There’s a thunder of applause, and I watch with a smile as some of those smiling back at me lose theirs.

Like they want to see me give a shit about something as stupid as money.

I’m glad she’s sitting down because once it registers that all those bids are for her, Jules looks pale, like she’s gonna faint.

I pour us both some water, it looks like she could use some.

“Tell me you didn’t bid that much money… because of… me?” she asks, fading by the second.

I’m worried she’s gonna slide off her chair, and I sit down, moving mine closer and holding her up.

Before I can answer, Fitch is in my ear again, his hand on my shoulder, which he snatches back as soon as I stare at it.

“Sorry sir, but we got him. Some kid in Nebraska thought he’d be cute and make you shell out some more of your millions, I guess.”

I stare back blankly, only annoyed that I’m again being interrupted when I’m getting close to Jules.

“We’ve alerted the authorities. We’ll follow up with-”

I wave him away with my hand.

“No. No police, no charges. I’ll make good on the promise of matching the bids,” and turning to face Jules. “I got what I wanted and it’s worth every cent.”

He looks dumbfounded, but he’s gone with another one of my stares asking him why he’s still in front of me.

Twelve, thirteen million, a bargain. And it’s a shoe in for me to take over ownership of Florence’s soup kitchen, followed by the rest of the neighborhood.

Buying a development back from my own company? It’s probably illegal, but if I’m running at a hundred percent loss… Like I said, I’ve got what I came for.

Almost, anyway.

“I think now’s a good time to go,” I whisper to Jules, who only nods blankly, staring straight ahead. In shock.

In a few seconds, I’ve slipped out with her the way I came in. A private elevator’s at the end of a narrow passage leading straight up to my floors.

My apartment.

My bed.

Our bed, hopefully.

I lock the elevators leading to my floors, meaning we really can be alone now.

I still have to guide Jules a little, she’s unsteady on her feet, her mouth gaping.

I hope she isn’t sick, please God, don’t let her be sick.

I could go through my office, maybe make some calls and let everyone know not to panic.

But I don’t care about what’s happening down there anymore. I don’t care about anything but Jules right now.

Using a door that bypasses my office and the same keycard that only I have to work my elevators, I lead her in and close the door behind me, leaning heavily on it.

Finally able to breathe for the first time all day.

I’m suddenly aware of my living space.

No one comes in here, save for the maids a couple of times a week, and Nicholas of course.

I should try Nick again in the morning and I’m gonna need his help more than ever with the media over this auction business.

I sigh gently, forcing everything else from my mind, asking Jules for the millionth time if she’s alright.

She’s sat herself down on a sofa, still staring blankly, but she manages to finally meet my eyes and laugh nervously.

“Did you really just bid millions of dollars so I can work in a soup kitchen?” she asks, then I notice her laughter again.

It goes from nervous to almost hysterical.

Kneeling in front of her, I take her by the elbows again, shaking her gently.

“Jules, Jules! Stop it. It’s alright, it’s over now.”

I’ve seen people get hysterical over money before. As soon as the M-word gets mentioned, lots of people lose their heads.

“But, I’ll have to work there for twenty lifetimes to pay all that off,” she says, slumping back into the leather couch, her skirt riding up, exposing her legs, making me stand up and look somewhere else before I can take a seat on the other side of the room.

I have to.

My own hardness is pulsing back to life. I try to think about something else, anything else, but I just can’t.

She’s here. She’s finally here.

Clearing my throat and leaning forward, I explain things a little for Jules.

“You don’t have to work at the soup kitchen. I bid that much, as much as it would take, so I could have you all to myself instead. We’ll make sure the kitchen has all the help they need, don’t worry,” I assure