Page 13 of Auctioned to the Reaper

Fuck.

I glance toward the ballroom before I say something stupid. Like how many nights I’ve spent thinking about her. Or how badly I want to pull her against me right now.

“Look, the auction money’s already donated. You don’t owe me dinner.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Seventy-five thousand dollars and you’re not even going to take me out?”

“Figured you might prefer a refund.”

“Is that an option?”

“No.”

“Then you’re a terrible businessman.”

“Been told that.”

She shakes her head, and this time a real smile threatens.

I want to kiss it off her mouth.

Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out my keys.

“There’s something I want to give you. Something I’ve kept all these years.”

“What?”

“It’s at Blackwood Manor.”

Her eyes widen. “You bought Blackwood Manor?”

“Yeah.”

“The haunted mansion?”

“It’s not haunted.”

“That’s exactly what a man living in a haunted mansion would say.”

“Jesus Christ, Pumpkin.”

“There he is.” She smiles faintly. “Still allergic to fun.”

I almost laugh.

“Come by whenever you want,” I tell her. “I’ll give you your things. No strings attached.”

She watches me for a moment.

Then her expression shifts.

“Wait. When did you buy the house?”

I hesitate.

“Grayson.”

“Six months ago.”