by Amara Kent
“You’re in deep trouble, my friend,” Don comments beside me. Giving me his opinion like I asked for it. Karmela and Tiffany are in a serious conversation, not paying us the slightest bit of attention.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say obliviously.
“Don’t play dumb. Apart from the moments where you’ve had to converse with people around here, your eyes have been glued to your assistant all night. You can ignore or deny your feelings for her, but you’re slipping.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I snap, but it doesn’t have the full impact I hoped it would. Because If I’m to be truly honest, I know there’s something between us. What began as a professional relationship has quickly led to some harmless flirting. Now? Well, now, I’m finding myself doing things only to get a rise out of her.
“Try telling yourself that. If you continue looking at her with those doe eyes of yours, she’s going to see,” Don states.
“Hello everyone,” Armond announces, and I’m happy for the distraction. Everyone falls silent, hanging on every word the host of this evening has to say.
This charity is very close to Armond’s and my heart. It’s why I give a million dollars to this charity every year. It’s why I’ve been made an ambassador. While most high-profile personalities seek this philanthropic life in the hopes of gaining higher notoriety, he does it because he knows what it’s like. He understands the struggles of children living in poor areas and having no money. The only option for survival for most of these kids is to steal and beg. He also knows the pain of having to live without loving parents for years due to an illness that had hit them both. Luckily, close friends of his family were able to take him in. Being poor in Paris is not a nice experience, and he managed to work his way up. He’s the perfect rags to riches story.
“Thank you, everyone for coming tonight. It means the absolute world to me. Remember, the silent auction closes in half an hour, so if you haven’t made a bid, I would do so now before it ends. There are some wonderful prizes to be won, and just a small reminder that all money raised goes to the kids. After all, it is why we’re here. To give children a chance at life. To give them things like clean water, homes, an education, and medical care to those kids and communities who don’t have the means to afford it themselves. If you need that extra incentive, then think about the prize itself. Now, for the major auction of the night. This is the first time we are doing this, and I think you will all want to participate. I ask that everyone involved in this to please come up to the stage.”
I pull my chair out and make my way up on the stage. When Armond had approached me to take part in this auction, I had refused, told him to go find somebody else who is willing to be used as a piece of meat. When he guilted me into it by reminding me that there is no other person that will fetch a higher price than me, I caved. I knew Natashya would be here, and the main reason I brought Tiffany here was so she could outbid Natashya. There is no way I will have anything to do with that woman again.
Whispers rise up in the crowd, as they speculate on what the auction could be, as one by one, each of the men taking part in the auction comes to the stage. I’m the last one as I’m classified as being the main auction item.
“I don’t like being deemed an object.” I frown at Armond.
He waves my comment off. “Yeah, yeah,” he responds.
“Why are you holding a date auction?” I ask in French.
“Because, my friend, dating auctions are hugely popular at these events.”
“It’s not like you need more money. I give you more than any other charity gets,” I rebut.
“Money is no limitation when it comes to helping children. Don’t make this a monetary thing.”
“Then why are you asking me?” I dare to ask, knowing full well why.
“Because you will bring in the most amount of money.” I hit him with a look and he shrugs. “What? There is no monetary limitations when it comes to giving to the kids, not people giving to us.”
The auction begins, and one by one, each of the men are auctioned off with dates that are extravagant and ridiculously expensive. When it comes to me, I see Tiffany’s eyes lock onto mine. A silent conversation bounces between us. Her telling me that she will ensure that she wins, and me telling her that money is no expense. I will, of course, donate to ensure that Natashya doesn’t have me. She’s pathetic in her pursuit of me and doesn’t seem to understand the concept of the word no.
I bite the inside of my cheek when it’s my turn. As soon as it starts, Natashya’s desperation floods the room as her hand shoots up in the air, and she screams, “Five thousand.” I stifle a giggle when I see both Karmela and Tiffany’s eyes roll in perfect unison. I like Karmela, even though she’s a model, she’s a damn intelligent one. A good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit, especially none of Don’s. I’ve asked him about her, but he continues to inform me that she’s only just a friend. I’m not sure how true that is, because I’ve seen the little stolen glances they give each other. There’s more than friendship between those two.
“Six thousand,” Tiffany declares a little more elegantly.
Natashya’s eyes are balls of fire as she shoots daggers at Tiffany’s head. It’s a tennis match of figures, as they keep on climbing higher and higher. Tiffany is playing it smart. Playing it low. She doesn’t want to spend too much of my money and is testing how far Natashya is willing to go, and even though Natashya’s family is worth billions, it’s not her money and her father has limits placed on her. Soon she’ll hit her threshold.
One point five million dollars. That’s how much I went for. I feel Armond’s excitement rush toward me in a wave. I chuckle to myself at how pleased he must be.
“Don’t you dare say it, Boucher,” I warn as I pat him on the back.
“I wouldn’t dare to prove how wrong you were.” He chuckles, proving just that.
I sit back down at my seat.
“Well, that was rather heated,” Tiffany states.
“Thank you. How did you know who you were betting against?” I ask.
“I had the unfortunate opportunity to meet your number one fan in the bathroom. If it hadn’t had been for Karmela, she’d be sporting a black eye right about now,” she responds calmly.
I smile. And there it is. The sass I’d been begging for this whole time.
The music plays softly in the background. There is a dance floor in front of the stage, and there are a healthy group of people making use of it. I watch out of the corner of my eye at Tiffany as she looks longingly out onto it observing the couples dancing to the slow rhythm.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask, despite my better judgment.
She looks at me with raised brows. “Really? You don’t seem like the type of man to dance.”
“I don’t, but it’s the least I can do after what you did for me.” I mean it. It is the least I can do. She was ruthless and determined. She wiped the floor with Natashya and showed her who is boss. Who is the better person of the two? If dancing with Tiffany hits the last nail in the hopeful coffin Natashya has built and stops her from coming after me, then I’ve just killed two birds with one stone.
I stand up and hold out my hand. For a brief moment, I think she’s going to decline it, but then she places her soft hand into mine and I lead her out onto the dance floor. I wrap one arm around her waist, fighting the urge to squeeze her as I do so. The close proximity is incredibly dangerous territory, but I can’t seem to care enough to fight it.
“I hope this doesn’t spark any rumors between us, Mr. Lukas,” she remarks as she looks into my eyes.
“I think the fact that you outbid one of the richest family members in the city would have been the one to do that,” I argue.
She tips her head to the side in thought. “True, but that could be construed as necessity. People could tell how desperate Natashya was. They would be able to tell how I had come to your rescue. This… this is more intimate.”
&nb
sp; “Well, we’ll have to be careful now won’t we?” I suggest.
“Yes, we will. We wouldn’t want New York City’s number one bachelor six times in a row to be seen as unavailable. How would that look to your cred?” she teases.
“I would imagine the city would be rife with mad women.”
“Well, someone’s a little full of themselves.”
“Tell that to the room full of women glaring at you and murdering you in their minds right now.”
“It’s hardly a room full of women, Mr. Lukas. And I can take them. They don’t exactly know who they’re dealing with here. I’m not just the finest personal assistant this side of the country.”
“Oh, really?” I ask.
“Really.” she gets up on her toes, and I lean in to hear what she has to say. “I have certain skills that have people begging and screaming out my name,” she whispers, sending a bolt of electricity to my dick.
“I have no doubt a person like you could make a lot of people scream. I too have a certain skill set that elicits the same reaction from people,” I whisper.
“We’re one in the same. Maybe we should get together and compare abilities.”
“Be careful, Miss Dunlop, you wouldn’t want people around here to think there was something going on between us,” I warn seductively.
“What people don’t know, won’t hurt them,” she comments, before breaking out of my hold and leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor.
“How was your weekend?” my sister, Violet, asks. She’s breathless and I can hear the sound of my little nephew, Toby, squealing in the background.
I think about the weekend. It was good. It didn’t end the way I had expected it to, but it was still good, and I know that the next time, our relationship will definitely heat up to the next level. When we danced, I could feel his dick growing hard against the lower part of my stomach. I smile against the phone at how it felt. The thoughts that had rushed into my head of how it would feel to have him in me, and exactly how big it was. More importantly… does he actually know how to put it to good use?
It’s a fact that most of the guys that flaunt their skills in the bedroom are far from being the Casanovas they boast to be. Women are notorious for giving out the perception that the guys they are with are the best thing they’ve had since coffee. I know, there are better things in the world, but seriously… coffee is the shit. If I had to choose between having coffee or sex in the morning, I would—without hesitation—say that I would choose to have coffee. Sex makes me sleepy, not awake, and the chances of me being satisfied from coffee is about one hundred percent, compared to the throw of the dice chances when it comes to sex.
The reason women lie in the bedroom can be for a variety of reasons.
1. They don’t want to emancipate the man. It can be a damn hard blow for a guy to know they aren’t the king in the sack. That’s all they have! And knowing that they can please a woman, if they have nothing else. They hold on to that for dear life.
2. Sometimes the guy isn’t that great, and no matter how hard the guy tries, it just doesn’t work. Women become bored and start drying up down there, and it’s just easier for the man to think that the woman has gotten off so then they too can finish.
I had an inkling that Dean wasn’t hopeless. That he knew exactly how his cock worked and how to use it in order to succeed in his job. After all, his whole personality was based on succeeding in all aspects of his life.
“It was good. Had an easy weekend catching up on my shows on Netflix,” I respond casually.
Violet has no idea what I do for work. I have never told her. She would never approve of my chosen career. She’s a romantic and believes that there is someone out there for everyone.
“You need to keep romanticizing love. Love is a construct. It’s fake and manipulative,” I grumble.
“Love is a feeling. It’s a chemical reaction. And it’s not love that’s the problem. Don’t blame it because of people who choose to use it for their own selfish desires,” she explains.
“Those are the words of someone who has never been hurt before. If you had, I’m sure you’d be singing a different tune,” I argue.
“Do you ever do anything other than watch Netflix and eat takeout?” she asks. She’s frowning, I can tell by her unimpressed tone. I know what she’s thinking. The same thing she thinks every time I speak to her on the phone. It’s been seven years since Cameron. Seven years of pain, survival, and an emotional safe being created. She thinks I should get back out there. Should give guys a second chance. I love my sister, but she has this rather annoying trait of looking on the bright side. She tells me that I need to stop being so negative. I tell her that she needs to stop lying to herself.
I know she just wants me to be happy, and that’s why she pushes me so much. She wants me to have the happily ever after she has. I have to constantly remind her that not everybody receives their happily ever after, and not everyone’s happiness involves having a person to share their lives with. That’s the thing about the society’s interpretation of relationships. They believe that person plus person equals happiness, which isn’t always the case.
“Please, don’t start again,” I warn, because I don’t want to go down this road every time I speak to her.
“Say what?” she asks, acting dumb.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“It’s hard for me to think that you’ve given up because of your experience,” she rushes out.
“Vi,” I warn again, allowing my voice to rise a little.
“I know, I know, bu—”
“Mommy! Mommy! Is that Auntie Taylor?” The sweet voice of my nephew interjects.
I’ve never been happier for a conversation I’m having to be interrupted.
“Yes, honey. Just hold on one moment,” Violet says.
“Hey, buddy!” I call out to him, loud enough for him to hear.
“Auntie Taylor! Auntie Taylor!” he squeals. There’s a shuffling on the phone and then there’s a thumping of feet as I picture him running away and hiding from my sister. Preventing her from catching him. He doesn’t speak until he’s in his bedroom. The clicking sound of his bedroom door indicating that he’s locked himself in his bedroom. “Hi, Auntie Taylor,” he huffs out.
“Hey, little man, how are you?” I ask.
“I’m good. When am I going to see you again?” Toby asks.
“In a few weeks, little man. We’re going to the holiday house, remember?”
“I know.” His voice dips into a sadness, and I feel a tug at my heart. “You don’t come see me anymore. Do you not love me?”
My nephew is everything to me. He is my life. The only person of the male species that ever will be. I will ensure that he doesn’t turn out to be the same as the countless men I have dealt with, and if he does, well, that’s why he’s got me to show him a thing or two about decency.
“I’m sorry, honey, it’s really busy here at work. I wish I could get away, but I can’t. You know I love you more than anything in the world,” I try to console him.
I hate lying to him. It kills me inside every time I do it, but he’s too young to understand half the stuff that I do.
“I know. I love you too, Auntie Taylor… Will I see you at Christmas?” he asks, hopeful.
Christmas. I hate Christmas. While everybody is out there celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ and spending time with family, I’m here in my apartment. A living grinch. It happens when you’ve experienced too much bad shit on that day.
I spend part of Christmas Eve at a soup kitchen. Handing out food, blankets, shelter, and medical attention to the homeless. It started off as a lie. My sister had to explain my absence to my nephew when I hadn’t been able to come to Christmas for the third year in a row. Guilt had gripped me, and I decided to turn the lie into a truth. I like doing it. I’ve also been able to find some friends who are willing to take some time out of their daily activities in order to help me.
/> “No, little man, I won’t be coming to Christmas this year. I’m sorry.” This is the truth.
“Oh, okay,” he says sorrowfully.
“I’ll be with you for New Year’s though. We’ll ring in the New Year together,” I promise him. “Plus, I have the best present I’ve ever bought, for you this year.”
“I just want to see you.” He’s intent on killing me.
“I know,” I choke out. “Okay, little man, I’ve got to get going. Tell Mommy I said goodbye, and I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?”
“Okay. See you in a few weeks. I love you, Auntie Taylor,”
“I love you too, Toby.”
Brigitte rushes me as soon as I set my bag down on my desk. Her wide eyes begging me to talk, and I know instantly she’s heard what happened at the charity ball.
“You heard?” I ask.
“Spill, girl.” She folds her arms across her chest.
“There’s really nothing to say. Dean needed help from this overly clingy woman called Natashya—”
