Page 150 of Revenge Puck

I lower my eyes to the page and force my hand to move.

“And we cannot rely solely on the usual donors,” Whitney continues. “The high-dollar silent auction items are great, but they’re predictable. We’ve had dozens of vacation packages and trips to the Super Bowl. We need something exceptional—something immersive that will get the crowd involved.”

A small, automatic nod.

Across the table, Annaleise gives me a warning tap with her foot beneath the conference table.

I glance up.

Whitney is staring directly at me.

“Juliette?”

My pulse jumps like I’ve been caught cheating on a test.

“You’ve been quiet,” Whitney says mildly. “Any thoughts?”

Right.

Thoughts.

About fundraising.

“Yes. I think we could lower the barrier to entry for giving.”

Whitney tilts her head. “Explain.”

Think, Juliette. THINK!

“I think we’re…leaning too heavily on the five-thousand-dollar vacation packages and luxury experiences,” I say, finding momentum as I go. “They’re great for a large majority of attendees, but they intimidate everyone else. Maybe we shouldn’t assume everyone in the room wants a weekend in Bali, or can afford one? We need small things that spark competition without requiring a second mortgage.”

For people like me.

And my co-workers, who don’t earn close to a six-figure salary, let alone make millions.

I hold my breath.

Whitney nods slowly with understanding, her smile approving. “So more accessible price points?”

“Yes. And maybe…people sponsor, like…scholarships. A program slot. A child’s tuition for a semester.”

I am proud of myself for forming full sentences while replaying the memory of Aaron’s warm mouth trailing slowly down my throat.

His tongue…

“And,” I continue, “some things that are more intimate.”

Intimate.

Like the look in his eyes when he was looking down at me, my hair fanned out on the pillow after we’d had sex. The look on his face as he wordlessly brushed his finger over the bridge of my nose, my lips. The curve of my brows.

I can’t decide what to make of that look.

Whitney smiles. “That’s good.”

Annaleise raises her hand. “What about something that could be considered controversial?”

“Yes—love that, Annaleise.” Whitney clicks to the next slide. “We need buzz. Something that will get people talking.” She pauses, glancing around the room. “Ideas. Go.”