pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ RUIN YOUR BRAND „

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

While Tate was far from financially able to bid in the auction, it had been incredibly amusing to watch—even with Rupert being the announcer.

Jamie had gone first, which had led to a bidding war between an older woman named Cheryl and Keeley, then a mystery woman joined in, and Keeley ended up winning a date with her own boyfriend for twenty-six thousand pounds.

The rest of the auction went without too much action, until it was Roy's turn, which he made clear the date was going to be very boring. She giggled at his terms of no daiquiris and no rays, which were absurd to turn down. She had half a mind to bid on him just to try and make him enjoy himself for one day.

When Keeley bid on Roy, though, Tate's brows knitted together in confusion. Sam shot her a look, a silent question, but she shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what had happened that resulted in Keeley getting pissed enough at Jamie that she started another bidding war with Cheryl, losing only by flipping Jamie off and storming from the table.

The auction ended with Rupert personally donating one million pounds, and Tate's head grew dizzy at the thought of having that much money to donate. As the former owner of AFC Richmond stepped from the stage to allow Rebecca the chance to announce the musical guest, Tate trained her gaze onto her glass of champagne, pinching the stem between her fingers and twisting it back and forth slightly.

"What..." Sam mumbled, causing Tate to pick her head up and look to the stage. Her confusion quickly matched his as she watched the musical guest set up on stage. The man looked like a street performer, one that would be busking near a tourist attraction in London—not playing the current venue, full of posh elites.

But once he started playing his music, Sam tugged Tate to her feet by her hand and led her to the front of the hall. He passed by Jamie's table and tapped his teammate on the shoulder, an attempt to get him to join them on the dance floor.

"Uh, no." Jamie waved him off, as if it was stupid to try and invite him. His eyes darted briefly to her and Sam's attached hands, then up to her face. Unlike previously, her mask was fully on. She was frowning, too, annoyed at how he disregarded Sam's every attempt to make nice.

But Sam pulled her along, through the crowd, and soon they were at the front of the mass of people, dancing to the street performer's insanely good rock song. And as the players joined them, one by one, Tate let herself forget everything that bothered her.

Just for a moment, at least.

「☺ ☺ ☺ 」

She had known she shouldn't have let her guard down so easily.

She had been at her table, relaxing her aching feet from dancing, while Sam talked to a pretty girl he had been eyeing all night. Not wanting to get in his way and desperate to take a break, she had gone off on her own as the night wound down.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all by herself?"

Every muscle in her body went taut at the sound of that voice, at the sight of that smug grin.

"Hello, Mr. Mannion," Tate smiled politely, hoping that she didn't look as small as she felt in his presence. It had been a while since she had last seen him, had last suffered through a conversation with him. But it all felt exactly the same—even though he had no more power over her.

At least, not professionally.

"Tell me," Rupert grinned as he took the seat nearest to her at the table, leaned just close enough to not look suspicious to someone passing by. "How much harder has your job become since I've left?"