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“But why?” I squinted at Lia.
“Silent auction?” Lia shrugged. Sipping her champagne, she leaned back on the bar and scanned the room. “There’s Lukas talking to some people,” she murmured. Her voice was casual but when I peeked over at her, she was wearing the dopiest grin from just looking at her boyfriend. I suppressed my giggle. “I don’t see Julian anywhere near him though. I wonder where that jerk is.”
“Again, you’re really selling him.”
“Oh, hush. I could sing nothing but praise and you still wouldn’t care. You’re just so… hung up on this elevator guy.”
Ugh. It was true.
I’d gone ahead and gotten myself completely infatuated with a man I’d spent a grand total of fifteen minutes with. I was supposed to forget that night once it was done, but in my defense, it was never actually finished. I was at the peak of my arousal, more turned on than I’d ever been in my life when some asshole barreled into the room, ruined our night and left my libido hanging indefinitely, it seemed.
The worst part was that I couldn’t feed even my smallest craving for him. Without his name, I couldn’t even Google him and obsess over a single picture of him on Facebook or LinkedIn. I had no name, no leads and sadly, no interest in any other guy thus far. Looking around the room, there were plenty of attractive, impeccably well-dressed and presumably very wealthy men, but not a single one was doing a thing for me. It was bleak.
“Oh, oh!” Lia gasped. “I see Julian!”
I prioritized my last sip of champagne before glancing up and lazily craning my neck to look toward where she nodded. “Which one is he? The blonde guy in the blue?”
“Ugh, no, that guy is blocking him right now.”
“Mm.” I lost interest and opened up Instagram. Lia smacked me.
“Hey! Act like you care! Blue Suit’s about to move so you can see Julian,” she said eagerly. “There, there! The one in the dark grey! Quick, quick, look!”
“Okay, okay!” I stuffed my phone back into my purse and looked up.
Then I felt the blood promptly drain from my face.
The music and chatter dissolved from my ears as my eyes zoned in on the walking sex and perfection I’d recognize from a mile away. I couldn’t believe it. It was him – my nameless hook-up from that filthy, unforgettable night at the hotel. He was standing under the highest point of the domed glass ceiling, surrounded by half a dozen colleagues, friends, and admirers, all of them looking so very rich, important, and dressed to kill.
Their eyes were all on him.
And he was staring directly at me.
5
JULIAN
I took a bigger than usual swig of Scotch, letting the liquid burn its way down my throat. I’d just lost Carter’s attention to some girl, but his wasn’t as important to me, anyway. When it came to business, he yielded to his brother, whose focus I still had.
Till this second, apparently.
“That motherfucker!” he laughed, pointing across the room at Carter. According to Turner, his brother had just claimed the “only real talent” at the party, and now it seemed he was doing his best to impress her by bidding on the stupid Maserati.
“Hey.” Turner elbowed me. “Let’s go over there and outbid him in front of her. It’ll be epic.”
I glanced at the car. “No.”
“Oh, right, you’re not impressed. You’ve got plenty of those babies.”
I did. I kept my collection of cars and motorcycles in a four-story garage I owned on Eleventh Avenue, and for a moment I entertained the idea of going there, grabbing my bike, and riding the three hours to my home in East Hampton – just so I wouldn’t be tempted to waste another minute trying to woo these assholes. But the fantasy was fleeting.
“Hey – why don’t we take one of your rides for a spin? Maybe cruise around town and find some real talent since there’s clearly none in this room,” Turner said, his eyes following a petite brunette. “Boring,” he remarked.
“Turner.” I masked my disgust. “I should remind you that I’m trying to sell the Biarritz resort as soon as possible and you’re by no means the only person interested in buying,” I said, referring to the flagship property in my small chain of luxury hotels.
It was enjoying record profits this year, but I was still eager to get it off my hands. I didn’t want to look at it anymore. Aside from the obvious reason I wanted it gone, I was also in the process of freeing up capital for a privately financed renovation of Empire Stadium. Doing that in partnership with Roth Entertainment would be ideal. It would put me at an advantage for booking concerts and tours, capitalizing on both road games and the offseason to make the stadium profitable year round. I could get fucking hard thinking about how much money could be made from our collaborative efforts.
Of course, those efforts required Turner’s focused attention, which I knew I wasn’t getting when he grabbed my shoulder and grinned.
