The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

“I don’t care for how it affects me.”

Control was essential, and that was hard to maintain when I was inebriated.

She bit down on her bottom lip, unsure. “Would it bother you if I—”

“No,” I answered easily. “I meant what I said. Order whatever you’d like.”

Relief coasted through her, and I wanted to grimace. Was I that intolerable? Sophia hadn’t needed a drop of alcohol to survive dinner with me earlier in the week.

As Evangeline leafed through the wine list, my gaze drifted around the room. The restaurant wasn’t large, but it was fully booked, and there were a few faces I recognized. Those I didn’t clearly recognized me. I’d felt the shift in the room as I’d entered.

A woman near the back of the restaurant pretended to be texting someone, but the awkward angle she held her phone told me she was taking a picture.

Excellent.

Once our orders had been taken, Evangeline looked to me to begin the conversation.

“I appreciate your willingness to meet with me,” I started, “especially under such unorthodox circumstances. I don’t usually send an assistant to arrange these kinds of things.”

She picked up her water goblet and took a drink as she contemplated what I’d said. “Honestly, if you’d asked me, I’d have said no. It’s nothing personal.” She set her glass down, and her fingers lingered on the stem as she worked up the courage to say what she meant. “Okay, it would have been a little personal.”

I went still.

“I always found you intimidating,” she admitted. “But Sophia came to me with your offer, and I was getting pretty desperate.”

Beneath the table, my fist clenched at the idea of this woman only agreeing to dinner out of desperation. Last time I checked, I was Macalister fucking Hale. I could buy this restaurant and everyone in it twice over, and that wouldn’t even touch my credit limit.

My anger leashed my tongue, and that gave her time to continue speaking. She crossed her arms, leaned forward on the table, and her expression flooded with emotion.

“I can’t tell you how much your help means to me. My husband’s foundation is everything.” Her voice was quiet and somber. “It’s all I have left of his legacy.”

“My offer,” I repeated.

Trepidation pricked up my spine. I’d been careless. In my distraction with Sophia, I hadn’t gotten clarification on what exactly had been discussed during her lunch meeting with Evangeline. Sophia had mentioned there were finance issues, so I had assumed money. But judging by the emotion painting Evangeline’s face, either I’d agreed to give up a lot of money . . .

Or something far more valuable.

“After John passed,” she said, “I didn’t have the strength to pay attention. Some people tried to help out, and I’d like to think they had good intentions, but the foundation is a mess. It’s been mismanaged to the brink of collapse.”

“You need me to look at your books.”

I’d said it as a statement, but she mistook it for a question. “Oh, good heavens, no. Your slot in the auction is more than enough help. I’m not going to bother you for anything else.”

Dread wormed through my system, but I wouldn’t allow it to show. “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate. Sophia failed to mention anything to me about an auction.”

Evangeline froze, panic swamping her expression. “She didn’t?”

I disliked having to repeat myself, especially when it was clear I’d been heard.

It took her a moment to compose her thoughts. “Well, every year, the Gabbard Foundation hosts a fundraiser over Memorial Day weekend. It’s our biggest drive, where we take in eighty percent of our annual donations.”

“I’ve been in the past,” I said. “You host it at the marina clubhouse.”

“Yes. Last year, we tried something new, and it was a huge success.” She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, as if gathering courage, and it made my blood pressure rise.

I was impatient and frustrated with the delay. “An auction.”

“A bachelor auction.”

SEVEN

MACALISTER

A SWARM OF ANGRY BEES FILLED MY HEAD, making thoughts difficult, and my tone reflected it. “And Sophia volunteered my son Vance for it?”

I already knew this was not the case. Evangeline had said your slot in the auction, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the ludicrous concept.

“No,” she said, the panic in her voice now matching the emotion on her face. “She said you would be willing to participate. Is that not true? It’s one dinner, just for fun, and for a good cause.”

Fury corded in my body, twisting until I was rigid. I couldn’t fathom why Sophia had put me in this position, and I hated the words as I had to say them. “I don’t believe many women will be interested in paying for the privilege of an evening with me.”

Putting myself up for auction was degrading enough, but I would not tolerate the embarrassment if no one were to bid. I’d be pitted against much younger men, none of whom had my notorious past, and my competitive nature was screaming this was a game I shouldn’t play.