He laughs. “Too late now, Toby. At least you’ll be a shoo-in to win.”
“Fuck off,” I growl. He continues his chuckling all while heading to the podium and grabbing the mic.
“Tonight, is a special night. Usually, we have only three chefs, but this year, we have four. One is especially important. She’s a prodigy, and I’ve heard nothing but praise about her. And she’s a spitfire.”
I try not to roll my eyes in exasperation at his poor etiquette and wait for the stage to fill with the four contestants. They’re getting paid good money to simply exist. By being selected, you get a five-year contract with the company that wins and a salary that’s way more than fair for the first three years. After the money I’ve spent on this stupid event, I better get the best one.
He starts inviting them up to the stage, talking about their work and qualifications. When he gets to the last one—the auburn-haired spitfire, as he called her—I try not to grunt. What is she, fifteen? She stares directly at me as if hearing my thoughts. Her eyes connect with mine on a different level. They’re wise and angry. A kind of anger I understand and feel. The event proceeds, and her gaze stays locked on me.
It’s unnerving and uncomfortable.
“Our Golden Sponsor, Tobias Hayes!” Jake’s voice booms, and I’m unsure of what has happened since this chick has siphoned my every thought since arriving on stage. My attention is stuck on the girl who’s angrier than anyone ought to be, and it’s only gotten worse. The thundering disappointment flashing in her eyes has me confused.
“Toby,” Jake announces again like I’m an unintelligible imp.
My gaze meets his.
And I know.
She’s mine now.
Chapter Eleven
The Night Before
Joey
The drive to Vegas feels longer than it truly is. By the time I arrive, I’ve only got thirty minutes before the raffle. Luckily, I decided to get my dress on before leaving. Francis and his lips were way too distracting. And wrong, Joey. Don’t forget wrong.
Putting on my way-too-tall pumps before giving the valet my keys, I head inside to sign in with the registrar.
A man named Jake takes me to the back of a stage, telling me I’ll be called out when they’re ready.
“Where can I put my bag?” I ask before he runs off. He’s too energetic, moving from place to place too fast. He gives me a curious look, wondering why I’m not checked into the hotel, I’m sure.
“I’ll take it,” he offers.
“No, no,” I argue too quickly. My entire life is in that bag. If he takes it and loses it—which I’m sure he will—I’ll be screwed.
“Miss,” he starts. Someone from beside us calls his name, and he’s shaking his head. “Here, get a room.” He hands me a card, and I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do in the meantime. I have less than thirty minutes at this point, and if I’m late, it’ll make me look tacky.
Don’t dwell, I remind myself before rushing toward the lobby. It’s not easy in trashy heels, that’s for sure. I’d be much more comfortable in my Vans.
“I need a room,” I rush out as soon as I get to the man standing behind the counter.
“ID?” he questions like I’m a fucking child. I’m not old enough to rent a room, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“My dad asked me to do it while he holds his event,” I lie, watching him stare at me in disbelief.
“I can’t—”
“She’s with me,” a man says briskly from behind me. I turn to him with a grateful expression. He looks familiar, but I’m not entirely sure from where. The service clerk doesn’t appear to want to deal with the man standing behind me. Instead, he takes the card Jake gave me and types in some info.
“There’s only the honeymoon suite left,” he mutters absently, clicking more keys.
“That’ll just have to do,” I urge. It’s not my money anyway. He nods, his fingers tapping away.
“Here you are,” he confirms, handing me a receipt to sign. Scribbling some unintelligible name, I get the room card and find a bellhop.
“Please take this to my room.” He nods at me with a smile and takes my bag. Checking my cell, I notice it’s been fifteen minutes. I have only six to get back to the stage. Stopping at the nearest wall, I use it as leverage to take off my heels, then book it to the event center.