Lucas waited, bracing himself for any signs of recognition in the man's face. But aside from the polite smile, he didn't catch a flicker of acknowledgment from Jason. Then again, why should he recognize Lucas? The last time they'd encountered one another, Lucas had been a devastated, angry fifteen-year-old, and his last name had been Ellison. The son of Robert Ellison, Jason's former best friend and business partner, and the man he'd stepped on as carelessly as a pile of shit. Correction-Jason would've at least paused and wiped shit from the sole of his Italian loafer. He hadn't afforded Lucas's father the same courtesy.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face. I've heard so much about Bay Bridge Industries, all of it impressive," Jason boomed.
Giving the thieving bastard a nod and murmur of thanks that he nearly choked on, Lucas turned to the quiet woman he'd tricked into buying him.
"Since you've purchased me"-he flashed her a quick, disarming grin-"I figured I'd better get over here and introduce myself before you demanded a refund. Lucas Oliver."
"Nice to meet you," Sydney said, and the slight huskiness reminded him of a voice gone hoarse after hours of crying out in pleasure in the hottest, deepest part of night. His gut clenched in reaction. "Sydney Blake."
"I'm a little embarrassed, Mr. Oliver," Jason interrupted, stepping closer to his daughter. Too little, too late, but smart man. "I'd like to apologize on behalf of my daughter. I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding-"
Lucas arched an eyebrow. "Really? I clearly remember Ms. Blake bidding on me. What is the confusion?"
Jason rolled his lips into a flat line, but Lucas read the unease in the gesture. Good. "Mr. Oliver, Sydney is engaged to Mr. Reinhold." He gestured behind him toward Tyler, who stood silent, his arms crossed. "He-"
"Congratulations," Lucas interjected smoothly.
Jason blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Well, yes, thank you. But you can see our dilemma."
Lucas cocked his head. "No, I can't."
The other man exhaled a hard, frustrated breath. "Somehow, she bid on the wrong man. My daughter believed you were her fiancé," he gritted out from between clenched teeth.
Now it was Lucas's turn to frown, but on the inside he delighted in Jason's discomfiture and irritation. It won't be the last time you squirm for me, old man.
"Of course with all of us being masked, you had to realize there was the chance this could happen?" Lucas paused, allowing a beat to pass between them, waiting to see if Jason would admit to knowing Tyler had been assigned a certain number. Or so they'd believed.
Jason didn't confess, but his angry silence spoke volumes. Shouted it. "Yes, we were aware-"
"Good," Lucas stated flatly. "Because when I agreed to participate in the auction, I made a commitment. One I intend to honor. And I'm sure the person who, in good faith, bid on Tyler expects him to do the same." Lucas turned to Sydney. "Ms. Blake, I'd like to discuss the arrangement with you about our evening." He held out his arm, and after a brief hesitation, she slid hers through his. "If you'll excuse us."
Not permitting Jason or Tyler an opportunity to object, he escorted her across the room. As they passed a waiter bearing a tray of champagne glasses, he collected two and pressed one into Sydney's free hand.
"I think you're going to need it by the time you return to your family," he said dryly, drawing a chair free of an empty table. Sydney didn't reply as she lowered to the seat, but she did sip from the flute. And the rim of the glass couldn't conceal the small smile curling her lips. Why the sight of that faint curve on her mouth warmed him, he couldn't explain. Maybe it was realizing her parents hadn't crushed the humor and life out of her yet. Lucas sat across from her.
"I'm sorry you had to walk into that, Mr. Oliver," she murmured. "My father means well, he just-"
"Doesn't want his daughter spending an evening with a stranger. More so when that daughter is engaged. He loves you. I understand." Not that he believed that bullshit for a second. Lucas grasped the reasons behind Jason's very vocal and enthusiastic support of his daughter's marriage to Tyler-or rather Tyler's family-even if Sydney didn't. Money, power, solidifying financial empires. Sydney's feelings or happiness probably hadn't been topping the list when her father considered the match. But familial love tended to blind a person to their loved one's true natures. "And it's Lucas."
Something dark flickered in her stare before her lashes lowered, preventing him from deciphering the flash of emotion. "Yes."
Nothing more. Just that simple, yet stark, yes. Again, the same surge of protectiveness reared its confusing head, the one that had driven him from the stage to join her in the stand against her family. He snuffed out the weak emotion before it had time to take root.
"What do you want, Sydney?" He dropped his voice, leaned forward. She blinked, almost as if surprised. As if not many people asked her that question. "I understand why your father objects, and honestly, I don't give a damn. But if you'd prefer not to go with me tomorrow night, then I'll accept your decision. From you. For you."
Not that he would accept a no. He'd come this far, was this close to seeing his plans coming to fruition, and he wouldn't allow her reluctance to stand in his way. But he sensed pressuring her wouldn't help him obtain his goal. Not after witnessing the interaction between her and her family. No, he had to take a soft approach with her, gain even a small amount of her trust. Rescuing her from the overbearing presence of her parents and Tyler had been the first step. Letting her think she had an option was another.
"I-" Her gaze shifted to somewhere over his shoulder, a tiny frown creasing her forehead.
"Look at me," he quietly ordered. With a soft gasp and almost imperceptible jerk of her head, she returned her regard to him. "It's your choice. Your desire. No one else's. I want to spend the evening with you, enjoying a Broadway play and getting to know you over dinner. I'd like you to want it, too. Yes or no, Sydney."
She stared at him, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd pushed too hard. Sydney was an unnerving dichotomy of vulnerability and strength, of sensuality and reserve. Even as she steadily met his eyes with barely there hints of uncertainty flashing in hers, he had no clue what she would decide.
His breath snagged in his throat as he waited for her reply. And he convinced himself it was because his plan hinged on the answer … not because he wanted her to want to spend time with him.
Fuck, he sounded like a girl. Next he would be writing notes asking her out and to check yes, no, or maybe.
"Yes or no, Sydney," he repeated, the need for her answer hardening his tone.
A beat of taut silence.
"Yes."
Chapter Four
"What the hell are you doing?" Sydney whispered to her reflection in the full-length cheval mirror the following evening. She smoothed slightly trembling hands over the waist and beaded belt of the floor-length black evening dress. After discarding five gowns, she'd settled on this one. The long sleeves and length were ideal for the October evening and an air-conditioned theater, while the beaded embellishments along the deep keyhole neckline prevented the dress from veering into Morticia territory. It said, yes, I am on this date, but, no, I am not up for a one-night stand … or a visit to the morgue.
Perfect.
Except for the nerves that ambushed her stomach.
She groaned, turning from her image before she found something else wrong-the color was drab, the material too formfitting, her hips looked too big, her ass was huge-and changed once more.
This was crazy. Had to be the most nonsensical thing she'd done in fourteen years. Again, what the hell was she thinking?
That's just it. She wasn't-she wasn't thinking.
For once, the opinions of her father, mother, Tyler, or others in their exclusive social circle didn't overshadow her own wants. For once, she wasn't censoring her own actions by someone else's guidelines and desires.
For once, she was doing what she wanted and to hell with the consequences.
Her belly twisted, belying the brave words marching through her head.
This was so not like her.
Even now, the fear of disappointing her parents and fiancé crept up her throat, threatening to strangle the breath from her lungs.
Don't. Hyperventilate.
Twenty-five years old and terrified of letting down her parents.
How pathetic would that sound to someone like Lucas Oliver, who didn't appear to be afraid of anyone or anything? She shivered as an image of the gorgeous, faintly intimidating business mogul filled her head. The tall, hard body he'd aligned next to hers as he faced down her parents and Tyler. The big, callused hands that had clasped her own. The midnight waves and loose curls that grazed his sharp cheekbones and granite jaw. The startling beauty of turquoise eyes that had bored into hers as he quietly, but firmly, ordered her to look at him.