V-Card For Sale – A Billionaire/Virgin Second Chance Auction Romance
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Eva used one of her favorite sites from her grifting days; her credentials still worked on the private investigator site that she’d learned how to use under Jared’s tutelage. She put in Christodoulou’s name and a few details began to come up: people he had been seen with more frequently than once or twice, his preferred haunts, and even a few of the hotels he had previously lived in for weeks or months at a time. Eva compared the list to the names she had scribbled down; it seemed there were a few women in Christodoulou’s life that he might be willing to meet with again.
She quickly narrowed down the list of possibilities; if she were going to pose as one of Christodoulou’s previous ladyloves, it would make sense to pick one she could at least convincingly imitate for a few minutes over the phone. The phone part isn’t that hard. If I can get him to meet somewhere, it needs to be a place where he won’t want to make a scene. A strategy began to come together in her mind and she found a few videos of interviews with one of his previous lovers.
It was almost six o’clock when she unplugged her phone from its charger and checked the number on Christodoulou’s business card one final time. Eva took a quick, deep breath and dialed.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
Eva’s lips curled in a smile and she pitched her voice low, mimicking the woman she was pretending to be.
“Really, Ari? You lost my number so soon?” Eva let her voice ripple with the suggestion of a French accent.
“New phone,” Christodoulou said. “Who is this?”
“Laurette,” Eva said. “I can’t believe you didn’t put my number into your phone.”
“Well, maybe there was a good reason,” Ari said, his tone amused. “You are trouble on two legs.”
“I’m trouble?” Eva laughed, keeping her voice pitched low. “I thought you were the one with the party on speed dial.”
“That might be true,” Christodoulou admitted. “I never expected I would hear from you.”
“Well, I’m in town,” Eva said. “Thought it might be nice to catch up. Besides, I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” Christodoulou clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Considering the day I’ve had, I can’t help but be intrigued. Are you free tonight?”
“As a bird,” Eva replied. “Where can we meet?”
“Let’s say…” Christodoulou seemed to consult something. “Mise en Place, in an hour. I’ll get my usual table.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Eva said, letting her voice crackle slightly. “One hour. I’ll see you there.”
She barely waited for Christodoulou to say goodbye before she hung up, setting the phone down on the desk once more. She considered the situation ahead of her: she needed to blend in at the restaurant the Greek had suggested.
Eva stood and strode into her bedroom, heading directly for her closet. There were still a few items she’d been able to keep, a few things that hadn’t been taken as evidence of the crimes Jared had committed. She chose her favorite dress from the back of the closet, sighing with a mixture of pleasure and regret at the sight of the lace and fine fabric.
She stripped off her clothes and brought the dress with her into the bathroom. Eva took a quick shower and redid her makeup—not her usual professional, subtle look, but more akin to the way she’d worn her face when she’d been in the game.
Letting her hair cascade around her shoulders, she slipped into the fine designer dress, along with the heels she’d gotten to go with it. Eva looked at herself in the mirror; if she didn’t know better, she’d almost have thought she’d never even left the con world. “Either he’ll hear me out, or he won’t,” she said to her reflection, turning her head one way and then the other. She didn’t think that Christodoulou would make a scene—he would just leave, if he decided not to speak to her. But a man like him would hopefully be at least a little intrigued.
Chapter Five
When Eva arrived at the restaurant, she felt the familiar tingle through her nerves that she’d gotten every time she’d pulled off a con: her heart beat faster, her body felt strangely alive and numb all at the same time.
More than once as she’d made her way downtown, she’d considered the possibility that Christodoulou had set her up; that he had known she wasn’t who she said she was, and wanted to further humiliate whichever pretender had called him. “Never give a mark too much credit,” one of her friends had told her, once upon a time. Eva had learned from experience that it was just as bad to not give a mark enough credit: there were at least half a dozen people in jail from Jared’s operation—Jared included—that could attest to that fact.
She stepped up to the hostess stand and kept her polite, wealthy-woman smile on her face as she waited to be noticed by the skinny blonde in charge of the book.
“Good evening, and welcome to Mise en Place,” the woman said, returning Eva’s smile. “Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m meeting someone, actually,” Eva said, instinct taking over. Her voice remained perfectly cool, her body language confident. “The reservation should be under Ari Christodoulou.”
“Yes, of course,” the blonde said, her expression warming up slightly. “We’re always happy to have a friend of Mr. Christodoulou’s as our guest.” The woman plucked a small sheet of card stock off of a pile next to her stand, and gestured for Eva to follow her.
“Has Ari arrived yet?”
The hostess shook her head.
“He should be here within minutes. Feel free to peruse the menu while you wait.”
The hostess pulled out a chair and Eva seated herself at it. She glanced at the menu, trying not to feel conspicuous as she thought back to other dinners at high-class restaurants, a year or more before. All of that had gone away, along with the money she’d earned; it was hard not to feel a twinge of resentment at anyone who could afford to eat at a restaurant like Mise en Place on a regular basis without resorting to con games or other semi-criminal activities.
Reading the options on the menu made Eva’s mouth water. If Ari wouldn’t help her, then she was screwed—but if he at least heard her out, she might get a good meal out of the situation. Braised leeks with hazelnut brown butter…scallops with porcini mushroom dust…chilled lobster with crab and cod roe. Everything on the menu sounded like the most delicious thing that she could put in her mouth. Eva sighed as quietly as possible.
Movement in the corner of her eye pulled Eva’s attention away from the menu. She set it down and looked up in time to see the hostess bringing Ari Christodoulou to the table. His gaze landed on her and his eyes widened; Eva’s heart beat faster in her chest as she considered the possibility that she might—once more—have overplayed her hand. For an instant, she worried that he might out her, might disgrace her. Instead he merely sat down at the table and thanked the hostess for her attendance.
“Where did you get my number?” he asked quietly.
“Business card,” Eva admitted.
“That was pretty clever,” Christodoulou said. “Laurette would be appalled, of course—but somehow I doubt that you care very much about that.”
Eva smiled wryly. “Means to an end,” she told him.
“So tell me why I shouldn’t get up and walk away? Maybe tell the hostess that I’m being stalked?” Christodoulou looked in the direction the blonde had gone in.
“I’m in a predicament.”
“I figured as much,” the Greek said, smiling slightly. “Tell me about it, and let’s see if it’s something I might be interested in.”
Before Eva could explain, however, the waiter arrived. Eva hesitated, holding Christodoulou’s gaze with one eyebrow raised in question.
“I think we’ll take the tasting menu,” Christodoulou told the man, setting the menu aside. “With the white Bordeaux.”
“So,” Eva said, pressing her lips together as she fought down the sense of pride that rose up in her, paradoxically, in reaction to having to expose herself. “You were right about me being a faker.”
“I’m pretty good at faking,” Eva told him. She took a quick, deep breath and drank a sip of her water. “Anyway, I obviously don’t have a hundred million dollars to spend on an apartment.” She sighed. “I don’t even have the ten million that the deposit would require.”
“How much do you have to your name?”
Eva snickered softly. “When my last paycheck from my job posts, I’ll have about three thousand dollars in the bank—if that.” She cringed at the idea of it; the pay would see her through maybe another month of rent, bills and food—but she knew she was going to have a difficult time after that, especially since she knew it would be near impossible to find a new job.
“Well, obviously you won’t be living in that apartment then,” Christodoulou said with a shrug.
“The problem is deeper than that,” Eva admitted. Their first course arrived and she waited for the waiter to explain the food on their plates and the wine he was pouring into their glasses before she continued. When the waiter bowed out, Eva looked at Christodoulou once more. “The realtor tried to get me arrested.”
“For pretending to be a rich person?” The Greek laughed quietly. “That’s not a crime.”
“She tried to claim it was fraud, but the police didn’t go for it.”
“So if the police wouldn’t arrest you, what’s the issue?”
Eva took the first bite of her food; it was an amuse-bouche made of quick-cured fish, finely diced radish and micro greens. The flavors spread over her tongue and Eva sighed with pleasure.
“The issue is that the realtor is going to sue me,” Eva said. “She thinks that I’ve ruined her sale—and I guess technically she’s right about that, since you were the only one willing to put up the amount she wanted.”
“Who are you really?” Christodoulou finished off his first course and took a sip of his wine. “When you’re not pretending to be some kind of heiress, I mean.”
Eva held his gaze for a long moment; Christodoulou was clearly enjoying the advantage he had over her.
“I work in a call center,” Eva admitted. “Well, I used to work in a call center. In that building, in fact. I got fired yesterday.”
“And went up to the open house to amuse yourself, maybe have a couple of free drinks?”
Eva nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”
“So what is it that you want me to do?”
Eva finished off the last bite of her food and set the plate aside.
“I figure if you buy the apartment, she can’t come after me,” Eva said with a shrug. “Or she could, but I don’t see why she would.”
“That’s a possibility,” Christodoulou said, nodding. Eva had to wait for the rest of his response; the waiter arrived with two bus boys and cleared the table of their first course before placing the second in front of them: slices of paper-thin raw beef, dressed with oil and vinegar, salt and pepper, and more micro greens. Eva ate a bite of her food and washed it down with another sip of wine.
“What’s another possibility?”
Christodoulou shrugged, enjoying his own plate of food for a moment.
“There are several possibilities—no sense in discussing them all,” he told her teasingly. “But it’s definitely within the realm of possibility that I could help make it go away.”
“I’m assuming that you’ll want something in return?”
Christodoulou grinned. “I may give generously to charity, but I don’t usually consider con artists in that domain,” he said. “I might be willing to help you—but it depends on a few things falling into place.”
“What kind of things?”
Christodoulou shook his head. “Not a discussion I feel like having right now,” he explained. “Right now I’d rather enjoy this meal. Wouldn’t you?”
Eva chuckled. “That is an excellent point,” she agreed.
As she ate, Eva had to admit to herself that Christodoulou was even more attractive than she had originally thought; there was something about his sun-bronzed skin, his dark eyes, his ready smile, that made her tingle all over in a way that had nothing to do with any desire to scam him.
Under the tailored, beautiful suit he wore, Eva was certain that he was lean and muscular—she wondered whether he was hairy, as so many Greeks seemed to be, or if he was as well-maintained as his hands, his hair, his clean-shaven face suggested. She felt a little burst of heat at the idea of what Ari might look like naked. Eva reminded herself that she was there to talk business—not to find a new boyfriend.
Course after course came to the table, and Eva slowly let her guard down, delighting in taste and texture. Ari was—as she would have expected—genuinely interested in the food, the wine, and everything that went along with the meal.
“How did you get to become a call center person? I’ve never known someone in that position.”
“Sort of by default,” Eva admitted. “After an operation went south…” she shrugged, letting the nature of the operation go without saying, “I almost found myself on the wrong side of the law and decided to go straight. The job wasn’t that bad until it was.”
“I can only imagine,” Ari said, grinning. “You must have some real stories.”
With very little prompting, Eva found herself telling the Greek about the worst of the worst callers: the man who had wanted to dispute charges on his bill until she’d gotten him to admit that the charges—for an escort service—were accurate, the woman who had refused to believe that charges on her son’s account for pornography were correct, even though the investigation had determined that they were, and of course the final call she had taken on her last shift at the center.
Ari paid for their meal without batting an eye, and Eva—her mind slightly fuzzy from the wine—wondered if he would tell her what he wanted from her in exchange for helping her out of her conundrum. Instead, he rose from the table and gestured for Eva to accompany him.
“The night is young,” he said, leading her away from the table. “Care for a drink? There’s a great bar about two blocks down from here.”
“I could use one,” Eva grinned.
They walked together to the bar, and the host at the front of the tiny, secluded enclave nearly jumped when he spotted Ari approaching. In a matter of only a few moments they were seated at a table in a private lounge, with a dedicated server to bring them drinks. Eva ordered a Tom Collins, and Ari opted for a martini.
“I should have pegged you for a con artist,” Ari said, shaking his head. “You’re too charming by half.”
“Charming?” Eva smirked. “You didn’t seem to think I was all that charming in the bedroom of that apartment.”
Ari shrugged. “You were too—what’s the word? Uppity? Overplayed your hand, at least as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, I’ve seen plenty of ‘uppity’ rich people in my time,” Eva countered.
“I’m sure you have,” Ari agreed. “But there’s a certain kind of overconfidence that comes with wealth; not the kind you showed up there.”
“You shook me up a bit,” Eva admitted. As she finished her first drink and considered another, she felt the fuzziness in her head intensifying. He’s hot, and he’s rich, and he might—might—be willing to help you. If it weren’t for the fact that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with you, he’d be worth luring in.
“You? Shaken up?” Ari chuckled. “I can’t fathom it.”
“You saw right through me! That never happens.” Eva leaned in closer, and smelled the cologne that Ari used: something with hints of greenery, a warmth underneath it.
“I think we probably saw through each other,” Ari said, raising an eyebrow.
They ordered another round and Eva found herself relaxing more and more. They discussed the “work” that Eva had done in the past, but she kept the details limited, sticking with the affair and blackmail scam she h
ad run before meeting Jared, and a few other small-time grifts she had taken part in.
A song came on and Eva found herself tapping her toe to the beat as Ari told her about a bar he’d found in Paris, late one night—an after-hours place that only a handful of people knew about.
“Do you dance?” she asked.
“A little,” Ari replied. “Are you asking because you’d like a partner?”
Eva shrugged. “What else is there to do at a bar? Other than talk.”
Ari rose to his feet and Eva followed his example; when his hands caressed her waist, she felt a little electric tingle through her body. They began to move together, swaying to the beat, and Eva noticed that there didn’t seem to be any of the awkwardness that a new partner usually brought with him; she had his rhythm right away, and he seemed to have found hers just as easily.
“It’s not hard to believe that you could lure a man into an affair,” Ari said, once they sat down once more.
“Why is that? My great charm?”
“Charm, good looks…intelligence. Even if I was married I would want to take a chance with you.”
“You’re not married, then?”
Ari shook his head, and Eva reminded herself that she’d known that—at least, as far as the tabloids could be trusted.
“Not married,” he said, an unreadable expression flitting across his features. “And obviously you aren’t either.”
“Obviously?” Eva smiled slightly.
“Well—you were blackmailing adulterers,” Ari pointed out. “I’d assume you couldn’t be married to do that. Also no wedding ring or even an engagement ring.”
“So we’re both free,” Eva said. She had to admit that during the course of their conversation, the Greek had become more and more attractive; above and beyond the fact that he was potentially willing to help keep her out of trouble, and the natural good looks that genetics had bestowed on him.