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I peruse the other items, and then I come to the one West put out. I don’t realize it’s a copy right away because it fits right in. The only thing that throws me off is that it’s auction item number thirty-three, and it’s sitting between twelve and thirteen.

Otherwise, it’s a perfect copy.

Vegas Aces star Dex Bradley will host your fantasy football draft of up to twenty people at his private condo overlooking the Vegas Strip. Food and drinks to be provided in this unforgettable evening with one of pro football’s best players. Estimated Value: $12,500.

I’m laughing loudly on the inside, my lips barely tipped on the outside so as not to give anything away. I glance through the list of bids, and the current winner has actually bid $24,000.

It’s a hell of an item, and it’s not like Dex will be able to back out with that amount going to charity. He won’t make a scene. He’ll have to do it.

A twinge of guilt pulses in my chest.

This was a stupid idea. I do stupid shit all the time with West and Kellan, but it’s usually just the three of us along with our teammates. We don’t typically rope in virtual strangers, even less so when those strangers ride the line of being our enemies when they’re also technically family now.

I think about pulling the paper. Nobody will know—except whoever placed the current winning bid, and maybe I can figure out who that is and explain what happened.

My hand leaves my side to reach for the clipboard when Ivy sidles up beside me, wrapping her arms around mine in pursuit of that clipboard.

“Oh my gosh, what a great item,” Ivy says. “I had no idea Dex and Ains donated that. Usually he’s more private.”

Yeah, well, he didn’t donate it. I did.

I don’t say that. Obviously.

We don’t place any more bids but head back to our table just in time for the live auction to begin.

I’m nervous every time Ivy leans over toward Ainsley, as I think she must be saying something about Dex’s donation, but I keep my gaze focused forward on the live auction.

And as much as I had thought about getting into a pissing match with Dex over whatever he decides to bid on, I take the higher road since I so obviously chose not to do so with the silent auction.

He bids on some item and ends up letting it go, so maybe he’s not much in the mood for a pissing contest anyway.

I’m fairly sure I won that trip to Lake Tahoe, so since they don’t announce the winners of the silent auction, I head to the cashier on my way to use the restroom before the dancing part of the evening begins.

I give the clerk my paddle number, and she pulls up the report.

“Ah, yes, you won one item. But I didn’t know hockey players were into football,” she says.

My brows dip down.

“That’ll be $26,500 for item number thirty-three, the fantasy football draft hosted by Dex Bradley.”

“What?” I ask as I stand in a bit of shock at this turn of events.

“Very generous of you, Mr. Maddox. We take cash, card, check, whatever you got,” she says.

I’m still standing here stunned that somehow I owe twenty-six thousand dollars to this charity for a fake fucking auction item but just like he couldn’t have stood up and not given the item to the winner, I can’t back out and not pay.

And on top of this bullshit, I didn’t even win the damn trip to Tahoe.

I pull out my credit card because what the fuck else option do I have here?

And when I’m all checked out, I turn around and am about to head to the restroom as planned, only twenty-six-five poorer, when I spot Dex Bradley standing there laughing.

I walk over to him, not even sure what the fuck I’m about to say to him, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

“Don’t fuck with a master,” he warns.

I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter how he knew.