A Chance at L.O.V.E._Bid On Love

by K. L. Myers

  My biggest concern at the moment is how I’m going to get in and out of New York without my father hearing about it. Though I’ve never seen them, I’m more than one hundred percent sure that I have eyes on me at all times. Dad let me go off to college out of state because he sent someone to watch over me. But when I put my foot down and told him I didn’t need watching, he gave in without one single iota of an argument. I assume he still assigned someone without my knowledge, since there would be no way in hell he’d let me live on my own, not with the enemies he has made over the years. Up until now, I’ve not given it a single thought. If someone is watching me even to this day, then they’ve done their job extremely well at hiding in the background. In fact, maybe too well. Never have I worried about the backlash of my father's dealings, and if I am honest with myself, over the years, I’ve always thought someone would come looking for me. Someone who knows the easiest way to get to my dad is through me.

  I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head and turn off the water. As I step out of my shower, I can hear my phone ringing in the bedroom. Wrapping a towel around myself, I quickly make my way to my phone.

  “Good morning, Ms. Vicci.” I recognize the voice as David Lawrence’s. “Just a reminder that your driver will be at your home in fifteen minutes and will be waiting for you outside.”

  I glance at the clock on the bedside table, and sure as shit, I’ve got fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. “Thank you, Mr. Lawrence, for the heads up. I’ll be ready.”

  I toss the phone onto the bed and wonder how I got so behind. I didn’t think I was in the shower for forty minutes, but apparently, I was. Quickly, I toss on a pair of jeans and a fairly nice blouse. Unsure of what the day holds, I’m presentable for anything that could come my way. It takes me another ten minutes to get my hair dry, and by the time I grab my keys and exit my home, I’m actually five minutes late. A sleek black town car sits in front of my home, and when the driver sees me, he steps out and walks around to the passenger door and opens it.

  “I’m sorry I’m a bit late,” I tell him, not sure if he really cares, but it is the proper thing to do.

  “No apologies needed, ma’am. I’m here for your convenience, not mine, so take all the time you need today.” He clears his throat and then continues, “The only hard schedule we have, ma’am, is to be sure we are at the airport at twelve thirty.”

  As the driver closes the door behind me, I notice a black gift back with gold tissue paper on the seat next to me. A card sticks out of the top of it with my name handwritten on it.

  I hope you enjoy your day. It’s all about you. I’ll see you later,

  L.O.V.E

  It takes me a minute to realize that the word ‘love’ is actually his initials and not a term of endearment. I remember the conversation we had when we met and that we have similar monograms. Inside the bag is a Tiffany blue box. Curiosity gets the best of me, so I open the box to find a charm bracelet with one single charm. The charm is oblong with a caduceus on the front of it. It’s simple but delicate and beautiful. Then it strikes me that this charm is specific to me. It wouldn’t make sense that any other winner of his auction would want a charm with a caduceus on it.

  “How in the hell did he get this between last night and this morning?” I whisper to myself.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, did you say something?” The driver's eyes are looking at me in his rearview mirror.

  “No, I’m sorry, just talking to myself.” My head is shaking back and forth.

  “Are you ready? We need to leave in order to get you to the spa on time.” His eyes are still staring back at me as he speaks

  “Yes, by all means, I’m ready.”

  The car pulls away from the curb and races through traffic. Unsure of what to do with this gift, I quickly put it back in its box and place the box back in the bag before tucking it into my purse. The car comes to a stop in front of the Oasis. I’ve heard about this spa, but I’ve never had an opportunity to visit it. Before I know it, my door is being opened, and the driver's hand reaches in for mine.

  “Enjoy yourself, ma’am; I’ll be here when you finish.” He closes the car door behind me when I step out, then escorts me to the entrance. Before I can thank him, a very lovely older woman welcomes me to her spa. I notice then that the spa doesn’t actually open until ten a.m., yet here I am at eight being waited on.

  “Good morning, Ms. Vicci. I’m Madeline Charron. Welcome to my spa.” Her French accent is very strong as she speaks. “Let me show you to the changing room. I’ve got you scheduled for a facial, massage, and anything else you would like. You just tell me, and I’ll ensure you are taken care of immediately.”

  I politely thank her and then ask, “The sign says you don’t open until ten, but it is only eight?”

  Madeline catches on to my inquisitive question. “Yes, mademoiselle, we are here early to serve you at the request of Mr. Eastwick. Now, go enjoy yourself.”

  Before I can thank her, Ms. Charron introduces two young women who will be providing my services today. “This is Brigette and Janelle. They will be here to serve you and your needs.” She quickly turns and walks away, leaving me with Brigette and Janelle.

  It is almost noon by the time I’m done. Every inch of me has been pampered from head to toe. My massage was so amazing that I decided this is one pleasure I need to make sure I make time for in the near future. It was surprising to feel how tight my muscles were. I hadn’t known it until Janelle's fingers started working my neck and shoulders. When she was done, the tightness that I had begun to feel as normal was gone, and I felt so much lighter and free. Not a care in the world could rock me today, not after that massage.

  When I exit the Oasis, the town car that brought me here has been replaced. Outside of the spa sits a black limousine, and its driver is standing by the passenger door. “Good afternoon, Ms. Vicci. Are you ready?”

  I don’t expect what is inside the limo when the door is opened for me, and I climb in.

  Chapter Eight

  LINCOLN

  I knew she would be shocked to see that a limo awaits her as she exits the Oasis, but nothing could have prepared me for the horrified look on her face once she enters the car and sees me waiting here for her.

  “What… What are you doing here? I thought I wouldn’t see you until dinner this evening.”

  I can tell Lillian is nervous. My presence puts her off balance. I knew it would be a surprise to see me, but I never expected that she wouldn't want to see me.

  “Change of plans, Lillian. I hope you don’t mind that I call you by your first name. After all, this is a date, and calling you Dr. Vicci seems so impersonal on a date.” I watch as she nods her head up and down, indicating that it’s alright for me to call her by her first name. It would seem that somehow in the last few seconds, she has lost her voice. “I decided I’d ride with you to New York. I hope you don’t mind.” Once again, there are no words from her, just a nod of her head.

  We ride in silence for a bit before I remember that I have another gift for her. Once again, I present her with a black bag with gold tissue. Only this time, I’ll be here to see her expression when she opens it. “For you, Lillian. I hope you like it.”

  Apparently, Lillian is lost in thought, and the words ‘like it’ are the magical combination of bringing her back to reality. Lillian turns her face to me, glancing at the black bag hanging from my finger. This bag is much smaller than the first one.

  “Lincoln—” she starts to say, but I quickly interrupt her.

  “Call me Linc, please. Lincoln is so formal. Only my mother calls me by that name, or my business associates.”

  She starts once again. “Linc, thank you for the gift this morning, but this is way too much. I don’t know how you got a medical charm for me in such a short amount of time, but really, this wasn’t part of the package, and it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.”

  “On the contrary, Lillian.” I set the bag in her hand . “This was alway
s part of the package. I just tweaked a few things to make it more personal for you.”

  Her hands shake as she pulls the tiny Tiffany blue box out and opens it to find a simple circle charm with the words ‘New York’ written on it. “I thought this would be a nice reminder of our date. Well, the date, actually. I’m sure while in New York, we can stop and have it added to the original bracelet.”

  “Thank you.” She doesn’t have to say anything more than those two words for me to know she is utterly impressed with the thought that went into the gifts I’ve given her. The car stops abruptly on the tarmac beside my Gulfstream G550. Eastwick Capital is written discreetly on the side.

  “Oh, my,” Lillian speaks, her eyes wide as if she were a child who just walked into a candy store and is given carte blanche to whatever she wants. “I’m impressed, Mr. Eastwick.”

  “Linc,” I say. “I told you to call me Linc, please.” My hand is reaching out toward hers as I step from the limo onto the tarmac. An electrical spark zings up my arm as her hand lands in mine. Together we walk the few feet to the stairs that lead us into the plane. I’ve made this entrance so many times that I don’t think twice about it until Lillian's hand drops from mine and I find her frozen in place at the front of the cabin.

  “Lillian, it’s okay,” I tell her. “You can come all the way in and sit. I promise you’ll be just fine.” I can’t help but smile at her devilishly as I say the words. I want to tease her so badly about how she is acting, but I just don’t have the heart to do it right now. We’re still getting to know each other, and Bethany’s words are in the back of my head about how bad this is considering she’ll be the one performing Peanut’s surgery in two days. Lillian smiles back at me, a little embarrassed—I can tell by the pink tinge in her cheeks—and takes the seat that faces me. A glazed wood table is the only thing separating us.

  My crew quickly makes ready for our flight. Richard, my steward, approaches with two glasses of wine and sets a plate with fruit and cheese between us before turning and walking back to the galley.

  “I thought you might want something to snack on. I’m sure you’re probably hungry, and Richard won’t be bringing us our lunch until we are midway in flight.” Lillian's dainty hand reaches out for her wine glass, bringing it to her lips before she takes a small sip. My eyes follow her tongue as she licks the dampness from her top lip. My dick begins to harden by that simple act, and I have to reach down and adjust myself. I see the heat in her eyes as she watches me. She’s intrigued. I can tell.

  “So, what’s for lunch, Linc?” she slowly says my name as she asks the question. “Please tell me it’s something good, since I am starving.”

  My instinct is to flirt with her, but I hold back, once again hearing my sister’s voice in my head. “How does diced citrus marinated chicken on top of romaine garnish with dried cranberries, candied walnuts, apples, and feta covered with a molasses vinaigrette dressing sound to you?”

  And if my dick weren’t already painstakingly hard, the sound of her moan in appreciation of our lunch would have done the job. But since I am already hard, it just makes my cock ache more, being trapped behind the zipper of my jeans.

  “It sounds wonderful, thank you. Not too heavy and very refreshing after my morning treatments.”

  Throughout the flight and through lunch, we talk about me. My childhood, my family, why I do what I do for a living. It becomes apparent to me very quickly that Dr. Lillian Vicci doesn’t want to talk about herself, and I’ve come to learn that someone who doesn’t want to brag about themselves is either very demure or hiding something. Since Lillian is less than shy, I determine that it is the latter. Ms. Vicci is hiding something about herself.

  Chapter Nine

  LILLIAN

  The minute I step onto Lincoln’s jet, I am in awe. I’ve never seen anything as elegant in my life. Dark cherry wood throughout the plane gives it a feel of old money. The soft butter leather in gray with piping that matches the wood catches my attention quickly. There is enough seating to accommodate more than ten people. Two doors at the back of the plane are a bathroom and a stateroom, I am sure of it.

  My stomach growls as I take the seat in front of him, and I hope he didn’t hear it. If he did, he doesn’t say; he just smiles at me. A man dressed in black and gray places a glass of wine and a plate of fruit and cheese in front of me, then turns and walks away.

  “Our steward, I assume?” The question is out of my mouth before I have a chance to control my thoughts. One thing I am notoriously bad at is filtering my questions when I’m nervous.

  “Yes, that is Richard. He is here to serve us as needed.”

  Once again without thinking, I blurt out another question. “Do you not employ any women?”

  I can tell I’ve shocked Lincoln with my question because it takes him a moment before he replies. “What makes you think I don’t employ women?”

  “Your assistant is named David, and the steward is obviously a man. So, what gives? You surround yourself with men and not women? Most assistants are women, not men.”

  “Ah, Ms. Vicci, aren’t you typecasting people with job titles? Why must an assistant be a woman? David is very good at what he does, and people take him seriously instead of trying to maul him over his good looks, which is what would happen if I had a woman in my employment as my assistant.”

  I hadn’t thought of it until he said it, but I was typecasting a role. Most men want a woman as an assistant, someone they can bend over the desk and fuck when necessary. But Lincoln is all business when it comes to working, I gather, which piques my curiosity about him more.

  I take the liberty of using our flight as a way to discover the real Lincoln Eastwick. I looked him up on the Internet last night, well, you know, because everything on the Internet is true, right? Aside from newsworthy articles about several multimillion-dollar business deals he’s done recently, there wasn’t much about his personal life. Yes, there were the basics about his family in his Wikipedia article, but nothing about the man himself. The majority of our conversation is effortless until he asks a question about my family or my childhood, which I quickly redirect back to him. Something I have learned at an early age to do to keep anyone from knowing who my family is. Little did I know as a child that everyone around me knew who my family was. I didn’t play with other kids outside of the family, and when I say ‘the family,’ that doesn’t just mean by blood. In school, as I got older, I’d hear an occasional snark about who my family was, but those were few and far between because people were scared of my family and me. Once again leaving me to only having friends “within” the family. I didn’t need many friends, though, because I had Ashlynn. Her father worked for my father, meaning she was family. All I needed was her. Leaving for college was the best thing that happened, except leaving Ashlynn behind. Getting out of New York and away from the gossip was my saving grace. That’s when I started meeting new friends. But none of them ever got to know the real me. Only Ashlynn. She’s one of the few who openly know who my real family is. There are some who are smart enough to see the resemblance to my father in me, but most only guess or assume and never say anything.

  The bounce of the landing gear on the runway has butterflies in my stomach fluttering more than I care to admit. When the plane comes to a stop, Linc stands beside the table and waits for me to stand. Once I do, I feel his hand rest on the small of my back as he escorts me off the plane and once again to the waiting limo outside.

  Once inside the limo, Lincoln lowers the privacy glass between the driver and us. “Oscars on Madison, Jeffrey. We have an appointment.”

  Wait, did I just hear him say we have an appointment? Surely, I’ve heard incorrectly. “Linc, did you say Oscars as in De La Renta? And that you’re coming with me?” My voice quivers a touch as I ask the question.

  “Why, dear Lillian, do I detect a tinge of nervousness in your voice?”

  His response comes across smug and arrogant. I’m sure his true colors are finally com
ing out now that we are in New York. There’s something about this city that brings out the worst in everybody. Unlike Lincoln, I’m not smug or arrogant, so being anything less than polite is not in my nature, but I am a strong, independent woman, and I won’t have anyone making me the butt end of a joke.

  “Look, Lincoln,” I say sternly, “I get that this is your town.” I place emphasis on the words ‘your town’. “But you’ve changed everything about this date. I wasn’t supposed to have you along on my flight, and now you want to join me while I shop. I was just supposed to meet you for dinner, so yes, I am a bit apprehensive about the changes, so what you call a “tinge of nervousness” is actually apprehension, and I’d prefer you not make fun of me.”

  There, I said it out loud. I stood my ground without even faltering one bit, but it isn’t until his response that I realize I’ve misjudged him and his comments completely.

  Chapter Ten

  LINCOLN

  Lillian’s burst of anger catches me off guard. I noticed a change in her demeanor the minute we were wheels on the ground. It was like watching a different person occupy her body. Once the captain said we’d landed, she immediately became stiff and more fidgety than she’d been since I picked her up at the spa. I knew it had to be something about the city. I’m a smart businessman because I know how to read people, and I could read her fight or flight instinct had kicked in; I just didn’t know why.