The Curvy Girl Meets the Billionaire Werewolf novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Lot Fourteen
Etta bids her last $4,800 for fifteen minutes with the billionaire who is ending her lease, is outbid, and turns to leave; Griffin bids against himself and steps off the stage to stop her.
I had four thousand eight hundred dollars, a green velvet dress, and a paddle with the number thirty-one on it.
That was every dollar the bakery had put away for emergencies.
It was also the only plan I had left.
The letter was folded in my coat pocket, and I could feel its corner every time I breathed.
It said my lease on Water Street would not be renewed on December thirty-first.
It was signed by Stroud Marine Properties, and the man who owned Stroud Marine Properties was standing on a stage twenty feet away.
Harbor Night filled the whole Lakeview Grand ballroom.
Chandeliers, round tables, three hundred people in black tie, and a banner that said BUY A BACHELOR, SAVE THE HARBOR.
I had catered half of those tables myself, and I had never once been invited to sit at one.
"Lot fourteen," the auctioneer said.
"The man who needs no introduction."
The room went quiet in a strange, heavy way.
Griffin Stroud walked into the light.
I had seen his photo in the paper.
The photo had not told me he was six foot five.
It had not told me his shoulders filled a navy three-piece suit.
His hair was ash-blond and slicked back, his beard was cropped close, and a scar cut through his left eyebrow.
His eyes were the color of whiskey held up to a lamp.
They went across the ballroom and landed on me.
Not near me.
On me, standing at the back by the coat check with my paddle in my fist.
My stomach dropped straight through my shoes.
"Fifteen minutes of Mr. Stroud's undivided attention," the auctioneer said, "and the winner's dinner for two in the Lakeview Suite.
"Shall we start at five hundred?"
A dozen paddles went up.
I stayed put, because I had learned in thirty years that being bigger than the room meant being watched when I moved.
At two thousand, the paddles thinned.
At three thousand, it was down to a redhead in sequins and a woman in a white silk gown, all collarbones and diamonds.
I knew her by sight.
Delphine Chisolm, who ran the committee, and whose father sat on the board that had signed my letter.
"Three thousand five hundred," she said, lazily, without lifting her paddle.
The redhead folded.
Delphine smiled at the stage.
Something in my chest went hot and stubborn.
I raised thirty-one.
"Four thousand," I said, loud enough that heads turned.
"Four thousand from the lady in green!"
I could feel every eye on my hips, my belly, my thighs under the velvet.
I felt Griffin Stroud's eyes most of all.
They didn't skim.
They traveled, slowly, from my face to my feet and back again, and when they came up they were brighter.
My knees went soft.
"Four thousand five hundred," said Delphine.
"Forty-eight," I said.
It came out cracked.
That was the whole account.
The room made a noise, half a laugh and half a gasp.
"Forty-eight hundred, any advance?"
Delphine turned her head and looked at me properly for the first time.
Her gaze stopped at my waist, and she smiled.
"Fifty-two hundred," she said.
I held thirty-one in my lap and did not lift it.
There was nothing left to lift.
I'd wanted to look him in the face and say, my grandmother has baked on that corner for fifty-one years, and you can't have it.
Fifteen minutes.
That was all I had wanted to buy.
"Fifty-two hundred, going once," the auctioneer said.
I put the paddle down on a table.
My eyes burned, and I was not going to cry in front of three hundred people in a green dress.
I turned around and walked for the coat check, then the doors.
Behind me, a man's voice said, "Nine thousand."
The sound of it stopped me mid-step.
It was low and rough and it carried without being raised, and it came from the stage.
The auctioneer laughed, because he thought it was a joke.
"Mr. Stroud, you can't bid on yourself."
"Is there a rule?"
Nobody answered.
The ballroom had gone dead quiet, and I noticed that half the room had stopped breathing.
Delphine's smile was gone.
"Nine thousand," Griffin Stroud said again.
"Does anyone want to stop me?"
Nobody wanted to stop him.
"Sold," the auctioneer whispered, "to the gentleman at nine thousand dollars."
I had turned all the way around by then.
He was already off the stage and coming down the center aisle.
The crowd parted for him.
He didn't look at anyone else.
He stopped in front of me, so close I had to tip my head back, and he took my wrist in one huge warm hand.
His thumb settled on my pulse.
It was racing, and he felt it.
His eyes flashed gold.
"You were leaving," he said.
"I came to say something to you."
"Then say it."
"I can't afford it."
"I know," he said.
"The winner's prize goes to the lady in green, Miss Dahlgren.
"Fifteen minutes, a dinner, and the first dance."
He lifted my wrist an inch.
"Don't leave the room."
Across the ballroom, Delphine Chisolm's champagne glass cracked in her hand.
Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend