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Chapter 7
Max
I get up first thing Sunday morning and go to the office before Sloane wakes up. She might need to go somewhere, so I have one my drivers bring one of the extra cars around to the front and leave the key in the ignition.
I spend the rest of the day trying to pretend I’m not obsessing over the gorgeous woman at home. Thank goodness I have the date auction fundraiser on my calendar tonight. It gives me something to focus on and I’m sure to have some fun with my fellow Oakwood Boys.
Changing into one of the extra suits I keep in the office, I resolve not to think about Sloane for the remainder of the evening. In fact, as a charity date auction, I’m practically obliged to bid on someone and make a donation. Nevermind the fact that they’re hosting the event in one of my nicest hotels at no cost.
Forty minutes later, I evaluate the ballroom at the Monolith Hotel, one of the Hawthorne Group’s most recent acquisitions. It’s a massive, gilded room with dozens of chandeliers overhead. Most of them are dimmed to give the large room a cozy ambience. There’s a bar along the back—where I’m standing—and tables and chairs decorated in lavender and gold, all set out before a makeshift stage. It’s an adequate effort for an event of this size. I wouldn’t host it myself, but the proceeds go to a good cause.
I scan the crowd, noticing Tobias Kline lurking at the bar a few feet away. “Toby, my good man,” I say with a smile. “Good to see you here.”
“It’s Tobias,” he mutters. Of course, I know he prefers his given name, but I can’t help it. I swear, it’s one of my favorite things—pushing his buttons and making it seem friendly.
We banter back and forth, insulting each other through polite conversation. It’s as enjoyable as ever until he mentions my ex, Tana. We dated for a few weeks, mostly because she looked good on my arm. It certainly wasn’t because of her intellect or scintillating social skills. Tana and Sloane are completely different. Sloane effortlessly captures my attention. Not just because she has an incredible body, but because of the wealth of thoughts and ideas that swim just behind her eyes. People typically give me anything I want. But not Sloane. She’s a mysterious temptation, especially for someone like me. One I could spend the rest of my life unraveling.
With the mood soured, I make my excuses and head to the other side of the room. Along the way, strangers try to make my acquaintance. Acquaintances try to become friends or to propose business ideas. Business partners and competitors try to one up me with their wit and cynicism.
I’d thought it would be a relief to return to my normal environment, but after a week with Sloane, it feels like torture. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but Sloane only speaks when she has something important to say. She doesn’t put off a desperate energy at all. Hundreds of people surround me right now, and not one of them who actually wants to know me. They’re only interested in my money, my family, or my connections. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how lonely that feels.
The date auction begins. I’m not paying attention, consumed by thoughts of Sloane. I’m not missing anything. Each woman on the stage looks like a carbon copy of the one before her. The whole event is tedious.
I’m ready to call it a night until I notice an attractive curvy woman with long dark hair take the stage. She reminds me a bit of Sloane—unconventionally beautiful. On a whim, I make the first bid. “Five hundred.”
“One thousand,” a voice calls from across the room. Ah, my good man Toby Kline. This should be fun.
I raise my glass to him, pausing a moment before saying, “Two thousand.”
He glowers in my direction. “Twenty five hundred.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Forty-five hundred.” God, this is the most fun I’ve had all night. It isn’t even about the woman or the money. She isn’t Sloane, and I have plenty of money. This won't even make a tiny dent in my monthly budget.
“Five,” he barks, clearly getting worked up.
“Six,” I say, hiding my grin.
“Going once,” the MC warns.
“Going twice.”
“Ten thousand,” Toby announces. The crowd hushes at the size of the bid.
The MC’s eyes go wide and he glances at me. “Going once.” I raise my eyebrows, but don’t make another bid. Clearly, Toby wants a date with this woman.
“Going twice,” the MC says. Then, after a brief pause, continues, “And the lovely lady is sold to this fine gentleman here for the—” Here he pauses and clears his throat. “The impressive sum of ten thousand big ones.”
The rest of the event goes quickly. Mostly some mingling and gossiping. Before leaving, I write a check with a donation and give it to the organizer, Camila.
Outside the hotel, I pause for a minute to take in some fresh air. It’s still relatively early, and going home doesn’t sound appealing. Or maybe it sounds too appealing, but I don't want to lose control again around Sloane. A little time at the OC should take the edge off.
Once there, I go straight to the Lounge. The Oakwood Club is exclusive and open only to the Oakwood Boy nobility—Kings, Princes, Knights—members of the highest order. Tonight, as every night, it’s dark, smoky, and warm. Men gather in clusters in and around leather chairs, Port wine glasses in one hand and burning cigars in the other, as they conduct business deals that could change the whole course of the nation’s economy.
I settle into a leather chair, nodding at a familiar server. A moment later, she places a glass of my regular drink on the table beside me—top-shelf scotch. Immediately, I think of Sloane. Last night, she tasted like sweetness and scotch. My cock thickens at the memory. I down the scotch and head to the bar. This time, I order wine in a futile attempt to keep her out of my thoughts.
