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“I can swim and I used to ride horses back when we lived on a farm in Missouri,” I offer up.
“Yes, yes, talk about horses. He loves them. I believe he keeps a stable of prize-winning horses in England.”
Over the next hour, I learn that Mr. Tsarnov is extremely intelligent, cannot bear the company of fools, hates to be bored, and passionately dislikes clingy females. He has a massive yacht parked in the Bahamas, homes in England, Monaco, Dubai, and Moscow, and most important he guards his privacy as jealously as a lioness defends her cubs.
As my plate of half-eaten chicken salad is cleared away, Catherine hands me two NDAs. To my surprise, one is for my mom. For the rest of our lives neither of us will ever be able to speak to anyone about anything that happens pertaining to this job.
Konstantin
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrGw_cOgwa8&ab_channel=ParlophoneRecords
* * *
“I see you haven’t bid on anything yet, Mr. Tsarnov,” notes Mrs. Lynn de Manafort, the richest woman in New York. And I don’t mean that bullshit rich list that Forbes publishes. No, she belongs to that secret rich list only insiders and people in the know, know about.
“Still, I can hardly blame you,” she continues. “Except for the Basquiat, everything else has been quite tedious.”
Tedious? She has no idea how mind-numbingly dull it has been for me. It’ll be a great relief when they auction off the dinner dates, and I can finally leave. I turn towards her carefully powdered face politely.
Her pale blue eyes appear to be genuinely friendly, but I know better. Even so, it is always a surprise to meet one of the members of these generational wealth families who like to pretend they were once insanely wealthy, but have since squandered away their riches. The effortless way they hide their immense power and wealth and blend in with the rest of us taxpayers is quite fascinating.
“Perhaps you will bid on the next event, the dinner dates,” she says with a charming smile.
“Perhaps,” I murmur, and turn my gaze back towards the stage.
Five young women have come onto the stage. They are all beautiful, with sexy mouths, and stripper bodies, the type I find pleasing. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d think they had all been specially picked to appeal to me. Even so, one of them stands out more than the others.
I focus on her. Long blonde hair, eyes: too far to tell exactly, but either blue or gray, deliciously plump lips, full breasts, curving hips, and… legs that go on forever. I am seated at the head table, close enough to the stage to see her hands trembling. She turns them into fists. Her nervousness makes me curious. I let my eyes wander over to the other girls. They do not show any nervousness at all. In fact, two of them meet my gaze head on, and promise me things. I bring my eyes back to the blonde.
The hunter in me has been triggered.
The Emcee starts the bidding. The first girl is called Alicia. To my surprise, her eyes sweep over in my direction before sliding away quickly. How strange. The bidding starts at ten thousand. The men bid on her and the dinner date is sold for eighty thousand dollars. There is good natured clapping and cheering.
The next is a redhead who, who curiously, shoots a quick look at me before giving a little flirtatious wave at the audience. So, every girl except the blonde has made eye contact. How very interesting.
The bidding starts. The three remaining men bid on her. Dinner with her is sold for a hundred thousand. The Emcee is delighted.
“Let’s see if we can up the stakes even more, gentlemen. It’s all for a good cause,” he encourages with a toothy grin. “Next, we have the very lovely, Raine Fillander. Who will take this beauty out to dinner?”
The blonde steps forward. She gives a quick smile and stares forward. The men start bidding. The Emcee takes them up the garden path right up to a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
“Do I have a hundred and thirty thousand?” he asks hopefully, glancing around at the men.
“One million,” I call.
A hush of disbelief falls over the crowd. The blonde turns towards me, in her oval face, her eyes are huge with shock. Then the well-oiled publicity machine that Stephan pays for bursts into life and countless cameras throw their flashes at Raine Fillander.
In the white light that bathes her, I see that her eyes are blue.
Sapphire blue.
Raine
The flashes from the cameras that suddenly appear out of nowhere disorientate and startle me. I feel myself shrink back from the blast. What is going on? Surely, I can’t have heard right. Then I hear the Emcee, who must also have been in shock, announce, “I have one million. Do I hear one million and ten thousand?”
