Breathe (Hollow Ridge #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,28

I make it back, putting my death traps back on my feet, they’re calling us out on the stage. My face must be sweaty since I’ve run in this stuffy building back and forth on a time constraint. Oh, well. It’s not a beauty contest.

“Zachariah Billings,” Jake reads the name of the winner for the first chef. “Raise your hand so this fine young woman can meet you.” He raises his hand, a man in a stiff suit and an even stiffer looking expression waits for the first chef to make her way over.

The other two beside me get their business owners while I stand awkwardly. As I’m debating how much I hate the life choices I’ve made to get to this point, I find a man staring at me.

His hair is sloppy and purposely so. His suit—perfectly committed to his body as sure as he’s not committed to any woman in his life—fits him effortlessly. The look in his eyes as he watches me makes me nervous. It’s how Francis looks at me, but this man differs. His expression is one of a man who’ll eat me alive and spit me out. Francis’s was more of a take my time kind of hunger. As I’m busy wondering what this guy’s story is, a name is called.

“Our Golden Sponsor, Tobias Hayes!”

No one stands to greet me, making me hopeful they didn’t show up, and I won’t be stuck with some dick who doesn’t know the difference between a spoon and a ladle.

“Toby,” Jake repeats from beside me. Fuck. That means the dude is here, and Jake knows him. So much for not getting paired. Holding in the groan of disappointment, the man who was analyzing every breath I took stands and saunters toward me. No fucking way.

He’s not only too young to be a stuffy businessman, but he’s too hot to be into something so mundane. Right?

As Toby makes his way over to me, each step is another nail in my coffin. If I thought Francis was hard to handle, this man—with his sexy come-hither eyes—is impossible. A smirk tilts at his lips, and for some reason, that makes me want to smack it off his face.

Smugness isn’t attractive.

He better not be a douchebag.

Jake hands my new warden an envelope. One I’m sure that lists my good and bad traits, my name, age, and everything else my father decided was pertinent to know. Like how much men controlling me isn’t something I allow.

The man doesn’t say a word as he leads me back to his table. Awkward silence fills the small expanse between us, reminding me how uneasy this entire shindig makes me feel. Sitting down in the chair, since he still hasn’t said a word, he eyes me skeptically.

“Toby,” he practically growls to me as he sits, offering his hand. I stare at it, knowing how disrespectful I’m being by not offering mine to him in return. He opens the folder and begins reading to himself. Stiff air swims around us, more potent than the booze we both desperately need.

“Nineteen,” he mocks as if all I’ve accomplished in my short lifespan is a disappointment. He’s shaking his head, reading on. “Josephine?”

“Joey,” I correct, my eyes narrowing with each second that clicks by.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” he mutters with disappointment.

God, if I knew it was going to be this awful, I’d have avoided this altogether. He probably spent tens of thousands to win me, yet he treats me like leftovers. It’s appalling and unacceptable. A waitress passes by, and I stop her. “Champagne, please.” She nods politely, bringing me a flute back moments later.

“You’re not old enough to drink,” Toby reprimands, not giving me a second glance.

“Maybe you’re just too old.” It’s a lame comeback, but my blood is boiling, and it’s the best I have. I should have stayed in Francis’s arms, his lips against mine, his body...

“Everyone!” Jake hollers over the mic, interrupting my pleasant daydream. “We’re going to do an icebreaker. Get ready to be put into groups.” Toby and I are at a lonely table with no seatmates to pair with. So as we wait for instructions, Jake meets us at our table with a woman on his arm and another couple.

“Let’s play a game,” he says in his best Jigsaw voice.

“Never have I ever,” the woman next to him jumps in and suggests. I try to contain the snort rising but fail miserably. Of fucking course these old shits want to play an inappropriate teenage

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