39. Jaclyn

Chapter 39

Jaclyn

W hat the hell am I doing?

Each and every time I see Alex, I'm swept up by his sweet words, my undeniable attraction to him, and the way he can command my body with a single touch. It's maddening how charming he is. The logical choice is to run far, far away, fake a happy marriage with Chris, and pray each night that I'll be forgiven for my sins.

What if he's right?

What if the Gallaghers can help me find a cozy spot in the House or maybe even something at the state level? Alex and Finn are irrational for thinking I could ever run for President, but maybe if I give in…

" You're rusty, Taylor, " echoes in my head, and Alex is right. I am. I need to stay sharp. I've been complacent; there are too many enemies tonight .

Making my way to the ballroom, everything seems to be in order. With the staff bustling between tables to ensure every last detail is perfect, I take in the expertly decorated space, and pride swells in my chest. Perhaps I was an event planner in a past life; attention to detail is certainly my strong suit. Each table is covered with crimson tablecloths, set for dinner service. While I think gold and silver would've been gorgeous, my mother insisted we make a statement with red. Despite our short-lived disagreement, it's still beautiful.

There won't be much to celebrate if everything falls apart, so I cross the room to one of the bars and order an Old Fashioned with an extra cherry—there's nothing wrong with a little pat on the back for things running smoothly.

The bartender makes quick work of preparing my drink, giving me a third cherry and a wink as he pours the whiskey over the muddled sugar and bitters. Sliding the drink to me, I'm about to thank him when a strong arm wraps around my middle from behind. Immediately, I sense it's Chris and not Alex, and it's confirmed when he kisses my bare shoulder.

"You look delicious enough to eat, Mrs. Blake." It's for show—everything is with Chris. His goal is achieved as the bartender's shoulders slump in defeat.

I spin his embrace. "What do you say we auction you off one last time?"

"Only if you'll bid on me." He wiggles his eyebrows. "How much do you think I'll go for?"

Things have been easy with Chris since we got back from Hawaii, and I genuinely feel like he's trying to make this work. Granted, his motives are likely not entirely pure, but this—whatever it is—is tolerable. A few decades of light banter is fine . It'll help me avoid the Gallaghers, the media will never know what Alex did, and no one gets hurt.

Except Alex.

And me.

We both lose.

I rehearse my manifestation statement over and over: Congresswoman Taylor. If I say it enough, maybe I'll forget about Alex and how he stole a piece of my soul.

Offering a bright smile, I finally reply, "Oh, I don't know, maybe a quarter mil?"

"That's it?" he playfully scoffs, pulling me into him by my lower back. I steady myself with my hands placed on his chest, and the simple touch has his entire posture relaxing. "I would've thought at least a half."

"I'd stop bidding at three-fifty, wait until the very last second, then outbid some sweet old lady… Just to see you sweat up there. Then again, I'm the auctioneer this year, so I can't bid on you. You're on your own. "

Kissing my forehead, he asks quietly, "Why wasn't it like this before?" while smiling against my skin.

"What do you mean?" I pull back and frown, even though I know exactly what he means.

"I don't remember us having fun. Everything was so rigid and scheduled." Chris grins at me and mocks, " Dinner at seven-thirty with your parents tomorrow, charity event the next afternoon, media appearance that evening… "

"That's not how I sound," I laugh, swatting his chest.

"I know, but that's how it felt. It doesn't excuse anything, but I'm realizing now more than ever that I was such a fucking idiot. I should've taken you out more, gone on more vacations, spent quality time together. Just… more . I've missed years with you."

Chris leans in to kiss me as a woman's throat clears behind him. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

I peer around him and find Ileah and her husband, Tim, both looking exceptionally nervous. Unable to hide my smile, and with no one else around, I step out of Chris' hold and hug her tightly.

"Not at all. I'm so happy you were able to make it." When I pull back, Chris' eyes are in narrow slits, pinned on Tim. "Chris," I say cheerfully, "You remember my friend Ileah? And, of course, you know Tim."

Chris' jaw is tight, as he musters, "Yes, of course, how could I forget? "

Inviting Ileah and Tim was a risk, but if Chris really wants this to work, I don't want to sneak away for secret coffees or book club chats. I don't expect Chris and Tim to be friends, I want to be able to invite her into our home and not have anyone feel uncomfortable.

" You are the bridge, " Alex's voice repeats in my head.

I take my Old Fashioned and shake it side to side. "So, am I the only one drinking tonight?"

Ileah looks at my drink for a moment longer than necessary. "Old Fashioned with extra cherry? You know, a friend of ours drinks those"—she gestures to my glass—"when he's celebrating. Tim, who was it?" Seriously, Ileah? He gives her a knowing look, and I am so utterly screwed. They're friends with Alex, of course they know what he drinks. My stomach twists into knots. "Are we celebrating? I hope so."

"Oh? Is it Alex?" I offer, grateful Chris didn't pick up on it first. "He told us the same thing when he came to visit us in Hawaii. Didn't he?"

Chris doesn't answer right away, so I lightly nudge his side with my elbow. "Oh, right. Yes. We were celebrating the wedding my brother missed. Drunk driver. So sad."

Fuck, how is this man in politics when he can't even tell a simple, believable fib about a drink?

Ileah shakes her head with a chuckle, likely able to see right through our lies. "Yes, your brother! That's who it was. Didn't you drink those at your wedding, Chris? I didn't realize you and Alex had so much in common." Fuck, does she know it was Alex? "So, what are we celebrating?" She turns to the bartender. "Excuse me, may I have a Gimlet when you have a moment?"

Directing her attention back to me, Ileah opens her mouth to say something when a silky voice behind her interrupts, "I'll have what she's having." With her eyes wide, she slowly turns until I'm able to see his side profile.

Finn.

Chris wraps his arm around my lower back, tightly gripping my hip. It's possessive and protective. "The attendees will be entering shortly, Jackie," he grits out, fear dripping from his voice.

I nod and excuse myself, "Ileah, it was so great to see you and Tim. I have to check on the silent auction. Catch up with you two later?"

Shit, she looks like she's seen a ghost. I'll have to ask her about it when there's more time. Maybe I should stay? "Yes. Later," are the only words she's able to manage.

Chris guides me away from the three of them, and once out of earshot, he quietly mutters, "The Gallaghers are dangerous men. Why did you invite him?"

"He wasn't on the guest list." Not entirely the truth or a lie.

"I need to find my father and see what's going on. I ran into his brother earlier, and we discussed… a few things." I knew my intuition was correct. "Something's wrong. Are you going to be okay?"

I paint on my signature, sweet smile. "Of course. I'll be fine."

Chris pulls me into him, holding me close to his chest. As he kisses me on my forehead, I allow him to keep me against him until his heart rate slows. Once I step out of his embrace, he rushes off to find his father, and I glance behind me; Finn is no longer at the bar with Ileah and Tim. Chris is right. Something about this doesn't sit right with me, but with the gala about to begin, I don't have time to figure it out.

T he auction is in full swing, and we've already raised three million dollars for my mother's foundation from the first four bachelors. If this keeps up, we won't need to do another one of these for half a decade.

I'm about to call up our next bachelor when my stomach drops, and my mouth goes dry, seeing who is still on my list to come on stage. With all eyes on me, I swallow hard and announce, "Next up, we have Mickey Gallagher." There are whispers and gasps in the crowd. "Mickey enjoys reading science fiction novels, whiskey tastings, and swimming laps in his Olympic-sized pool." I cover the mic and ask, "How much do you want me to start at?"

"How about three hundred thousand? "

That's all?

I blow out a sigh of relief. "We'll start the bidding at three hundred thousand dollars."

"Three hundred," a woman shouts, raising her paddle.

"Three hundred, do I have four hundred?"

"Four," another woman yells.

"Do I have five? Five hundred thousand for this beast of a man. Go ahead, give us a twirl, Mickey." He obliges with a smirk, raising his arms to put himself on full display and spinning slowly in place. The man truly is a beast. Easily six-five, and a wall of muscle, he's built differently than Finn, who is still tall but with a leaner physique than Mickey.

"Five-fifty," the first woman bids.

"Seven," another belts out.

It goes on for what feels like ages until a final bid of three million wins Mickey. Cheers fill the space, and I cover the mic again as he leans in, whispering, "Meet me at my office on Monday. Bring your husband with you."

"Which one?" It slips out, and I draw my lips into my mouth, stifling a laugh. If Finn knows what Alex did, surely Mickey does, too. I'm poking the bear, except the bear is a damn mafia don.

I may have had a couple of Old Fashioneds tonight, but that doesn't explain why I'm feeling so bold .

Mickey smiles wide. "I knew I liked you. Bring the one who can't keep his eyes off you tonight." I glance into the crowd and can't find Chris or Alex. "He's to our left, about to punch a wall because I'm talking to you." As I look over Mickey's shoulder, I spot Alex seething like a bull about to charge a matador. He pulls my hand from the microphone and says proudly into it, "Can we have a moment to applaud our beautiful auctioneer tonight? She's raised millions of dollars for our beloved cherry blossom trees."

The entire room must be drunk, with everyone erupting in excited applause. My cheeks heat at the attention, and Mickey exits the stage. I auction off the rest of the men, leaving the best—or worst—for the end.

"Last, but certainly not least, we have my brother-in-law, Alexander Blake. He loves evenings at the beach, rapid-fire debates, and long drives with intriguing company."

Really, Alex?

He takes the stage, and the moment the spotlight hits his face, his scowl is replaced with a million-dollar smile. Under his breath, he speaks through his gritted teeth, "Very funny, princess. I'm not your brother-in-law."

I knew calling him that would get under his skin, but it was worth it to see him so riled up. "We'll start the bidding at one million dollars."

There are murmurs in the crowd, just like when I announced Mickey—likely since I haven't started anyone else at a million. It only takes a few seconds before a woman raises her paddle. "One million."

"And so it begins," I chuckle. "Do I have one point five?"

"One point five," a woman with a thick Irish accent in the back bids. I don't recognize her, so she must be someone's date for the evening.

"Two," the first woman shouts forcefully.

Alex huffs a laugh beside me, drawing my attention to him. He's enjoying this far too much, and when our eyes meet, his face falls, and he quickly clears his throat. I'm distracted for far too long by his gorgeous hazel eyes that when I finally look away from him, the women are already deep into a bidding war.

"Five point five."

"Six and a quarter," the Irish woman growls.

"Seven and a quarter."

"Do I just let them duke it out?" I quietly ask Alex. He doesn't answer as the women keep going until the bidding reaches ten million dollars. There's a brief pause. "Ten million, going once… Going twice…" My heart breaks as I announce, "Sold to number four hundred fifty-six in the back." The crowd roars with excitement, while I stifle a groan.

As applause continues, Alex covers the microphone. "That's Mickey and Finn's cousin. She bought me… for you. "

"For me? What are you talking about?"

"I was never going to go home with anyone but my wife. I'll see you in the morning, princess." He discretely slips me a hotel key card and walks off the stage.

It takes a moment for me to collect myself. This man, this beautiful man , had a woman buy him… for me? I inwardly swoon at the notion until reality sets in. He doesn't have ten million dollars.

The Gallaghers.