Sold on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Read online

  “You drink with them?” I ask, aghast.

  “Oh honey,” she says, as if I have a lot to learn. And I guess she’s right. I do. “Money talks. No one cards these guys or their dates.”

  That’s good, because I could certainly use some liquid courage.

  “They’ll be thrilled to see a new face and they’ll thank me later,” she insists. “It’s a tightknit club and the whole goal is to please the clients. I’ll get extra brownie points and maybe even a bonus when I go back tomorrow. If I go back tomorrow.”

  She pauses, staring off into the distance as if daydreaming.

  “If Billy doesn’t propose, which I really hope he does,” she concludes.

  I take her hand again and squeeze it.

  “He will definitely propose,” I tell her. “And you can quit working at the cattle auction and live happily ever after with your handsome sugar daddy.”

  Billy is in finance and makes a lot of money. Rachel’s not with him for that, but it sure doesn’t hurt. I really do want her to continue to find love, stability and riches with the guy of her dreams. So much so that I’m willing to stand in her place as human cattle.

  “And you might just actually surprise yourself and have fun tonight as well,” she responds.

  I raise an eyebrow at her, incredulous. Even though I was already kind of thinking that myself. I’m not going to admit it to her, though.

  “Oh come on,” she says. “Just think of what happened with you and Tom.”

  “I don’t want to,” I quickly say.

  Why does she have to bring that up? It’s definitely not the way to stay in my good graces.

  “I’m just saying,” she continues. “These men are experienced. Older— but not too old. They know what they’re doing. You might actually find that you like the power dynamic. You might be able to loosen up and let yourself go for once.”

  “I thought you only have dinner with them,” I tell her.

  She blushes, just the slightest bit, and I realize there is way more to her secret life at this club than she’s told even me.

  She probably usually only has dinner with them, but I bet there have been one or two that she’s let do more, for the right price. She’s far from a virgin like me. Guys have always flocked to her and she’s been more than willing to experiment.

  It’s not that I judge her for that. In fact, I’m jealous of her openness compared to my shyness.

  “I’m just saying,” she says. “You never know what might happen.”

  “Well, good luck with Billy. I think you’ll be getting a ring tonight and I want to hear all about it.”

  “Not until tomorrow,” she says, shaking her head. “No cell phones are permitted at The Exchange. It’s a very strict rule.”

  “What?” I ask, thinking this is probably just one big thing on a long list of many she should have told me before I agreed to work her shift tonight.

  “Never mind,” I add, as I peer down the hallway of her small apartment and look at the devil-tailed cat clock hanging above her kitchen stove.

  We both have to go, or she’ll miss her proposal and I’ll miss the craziest thing I’ve ever agreed to do in my life.

  “Do you have any quick words of wisdom for me before I embark on my descent into debauchery?” I ask her.

  I know she’ll think that’s a judgmental comment, but I’m getting her back for bringing up Tom: my most dreaded and embarrassing subject.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Just make sure you choose the yellow bracelet.”

  “The yellow bracelet? What does that mean? What are the other bracelets for?”

  But she’s already left the bathroom and is gathering her coat and purse from the living room.

  I guess the significance of the yellow bracelet— or any kind of bracelet at all— is just one of the many things I’m going to have to find out for myself tonight.

  Chapter 3 – Maxim

  I look at my watch as my father and my business partner, Steve, order another drink at the Palacio bar, which is located in the lobby of the bank building where our offices are. It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to get out of here. But my dad’s not a huge fan of where I’m going so I need to find a way to sneak out without incurring his wrath.

  “So, how is the merger with Adams Capital looking?” my dad asks.

  Great. This is the second subject of conversation I had wanted to avoid. In addition to the one about where I’m headed next.

  “Fine,” I tell him, even though I had just gotten into a shouting match with Adams’ lawyer about the due diligence work.

  I don’t like to tell my father things that will upset him. He has a bad temper. And he thinks that because he started our finance company that he’s the boss and can do and say what he wants. He fails to realize that I’m in the trenches all day, doing the dirty work that needs to be done so that our company continues to flourish.

  He has no respect for me, but that’s okay. I know my worth. It’s four billion dollars, last time I checked. $4.3 billion, in my share of equity and stocks. Not to mention a huge house, three vacation houses, a private jet and a Lamborghini.

  But the problem is that it’s all tied up in company interests and attached to my dad’s name as much as mine. So I have to be careful to always stay in very good graces with him, as least by the things I say to him. And then I can— and do— turn around and do what I damn well please.

  And I know my dad has been through a lot. Mom left him when I was little and I spent most of my time with her, although I summered with my dad at his Cape Cod estate and then started working in his New York City office when I was in high school, which meant spending part of my time at an elite boarding school. It all added up to great experience and now, many years later, I’ve helped my dad build our expanding Southwest and West Coast branches of the firm, including this one in Phoenix where we’re now headquartered.

  My mom put my dad through an expensive divorce and tried to smear his name in the society papers but he has always lived a lifestyle beyond reproach— she is the one who cheated on him and left him for the fucking pool boy. He had the upper hand morally and the courts were happy to let me choose who I wanted to stay with. By the time I was fourteen, that was him and I admire his strength although sometimes I wish he’d get down off his high horse.

  He remarried a nice church girl who came from a family with a lot of money. My step mom is all right and they have a solid marriage. But I don’t think he ever got over my mom and I for one have learned that commitment is for suckers.

  I don’t know how he could ever re-marry again after what my mom put him through. I certainly don’t plan to follow in his footsteps in that regard. He has taught me everything he knows about business and finance but he doesn’t even try to teach me about relationships and that’s good because I don’t want to be in one.

  “How’s the due diligence coming along?” Steven asks, but I shoot him a look that says I don’t want to fucking talk about it.

  He shirks back in his chair and mumbles, “We’ll talk about it at our morning meeting tomorrow.”

  “Good idea,” I say, grateful for my excuse to leave. “I’ve got to head out.”

  “You’re leaving already?” the bartender pouts, and my eyes shoot her daggers.

  As usual, she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day,” she continues. “Any big plans?”

  I shake my head.

  Jenna has worked here for years and is friendly and competent at her job, but a little too damn nosy and talkative. Sometimes I just want to leave without having to answer a million questions.

  “No,” I tell her, resolutely.

  “You’re not going to that awful club are you?” my dad asks.

  I shrug.

  “Why don’t you take Jenna here out on a date?” Steven says with a smile.

  I know he’s joking and he’s probably doing it to diffuse tension but I aim my glare at him now. He doesn’t need to be
encouraging Jenna. She’s been infatuated with me for a long time and would probably cut out on work if she thought I would agree to Steven’s suggestion, even if it meant losing her job.

  Lots of women want to fuck me. I’m rich but I also happen to be good-looking and well-hung. These women think they can show me a good time but they don’t know what sort of things I’m into. No one does, although my father has some sort of a clue, and obviously disapproves.

  “That’s a great idea, son,” he says now, nodding at Steven and then at me. He wouldn’t normally approve of me dating a bartender but he’d also do anything to get me out of going to the club.

  “Very funny,” I tell them, pretending it’s all some big joke.

  But I know that my dad’s patience with me is wearing thin. He wants me to act normal, settle down with a good girl, avoid The Exchange and be like every other middle aged man with a boring sex life and an apathetic relationship.

  That’s not going to happen but I have to do a better job of acting like it’s going to, since Father Dearest still controls the purse strings.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight there’s going to be a new girl at The Exchange. As one of the VIP members, I’ve heard rumors that she’s only going to be working on one night: a Valentine’s Day special. I know I’ll be the highest bidder, because I have the most to spend and I intend to buy her. I hope she’s worth it.

  My cock hardens a bit just thinking about it.

  There are only so many girls who are into the kind of sex I appreciate. Only so many who can take it from me. Who can let me do what I need to do to them.

  There is a small pool to choose from and I appreciate them all, without getting close to any of them— which is the whole point of everything.

  I always like when someone starts at the Exchange. It’s rare to find a new girl willing to put up with my preferences, my needs and desires. But I hope this new girl is one of them.

  Because as I head towards the door I hear my dad clucking his tongue and saying, “We’re going to talk later, Son.”

  And I know that my days of frequenting The Exchange may be numbered.

  This new girl had better let me take her. And I don’t mean to dinner.

  Chapter 4 – Celeste

  I’m running late by the time I arrive at The Exchange and I’m worried that I’ll get Rachel in trouble. But no one seems to notice.

  “Right this way,” says a security guard, walking me to a curtained-off room where beautiful women are milling about. Some are drinking out of cocktail or wine glasses while others are applying their makeup or doing their hair.

  “Hello,” says a high-pitched, nasal voice. I turn around to see a tall, skinny brunette, her hand outstretched. “I’m Bianca.”

  “Celeste,” I tell her, shaking her hand.

  She snaps her fingers and a tuxedo-clad waiter walks over to us holding a tray full of drinks.

  “Oh I…” I start to protest, but she picks up one of the glasses and hands it to me.

  “You must be new,” she says, looking me up and down. I can’t tell whether the look is meant to be approving or not. “I haven’t seen you around.”

  Before I can answer, she clinks her glass against mine.

  “Cheers. You’ll probably want this,” she insists.

  I smile and then take a drink with her, the fruity liquid burning its way down my throat. I do my best not to grimace. It’s not like I’m an alcohol virgin.

  I’ve had my share of wild drunken nights drinking wine coolers at high school parties. Rachel and I have had hot toddies at her apartment or a couple rum and cokes in my dorm room. I’ve even been to a frat party. I just don’t particularly like drinking because I like to remain in control of all my faculties.

  “I’m filling in for Rachel tonight,” I tell her.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. Suddenly her look definitely looks approving. Impressed, even. “She told me she’d asked you to come in her place so she could spend Valentine’s Day with her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, instead of a lecherous old rich dude,” I joke.

  The smile falls from her face and I realize that probably sounded judgmental. I should keep my comments to myself. I hate how socially awkward I always turn out to be.

  “They’re all rich but they’re definitely not all old,” Bianca says. “Or not that old, anyway. Actually, many are trust fund guys or self-made tech billionaires. Some are nerdy, but others are charming, and quite handsome to boot.”

  “Oh,” I tell her, trying to dig myself out of a hole. “I was just kidding. About them being super old. And about anything else I might have said that might have been taken the wrong way. Sorry about that. I’m nervous.”

  “In fact,” Bianca continues with a shrug, as she takes another sip of her drink, “A lot of us wish we could date these guys. I know your BFF Rachel did, before she found her own rich guy who doesn’t know about her deep dark secret job.”

  “She did?” I ask, annoyed that there was something this smug girl knows about Rachel that I didn’t.

  I can’t tell if Bianca is being threatening, or welcoming. I know I probably offended her with my comment. And I’m glad that anyone here is talking to me. I just never trust people and can never be sure of their intentions.

  “Yeah, but Rachel suffers from the same problem that most of us do,” Bianca says, with another shrug.

  “And what is that?” I ask.

  “She’s a bit too wild and experienced for these guys to take seriously. It’s a conundrum, no doubt. Most girls only work here because they’re sexually open. But most guys who come here only seriously date the shy, innocent types. So I think you’ll do well here.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me knowingly.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, feeling stupid.

  “Oh, just… you know,” she says, smirking. “You’re new here. You seem innocent. And you’re a virgin, right?”

  I can feel the heat rushing to my face and I know it’s turning red.

  “I… um…”

  Damn Rachel.

  She’s never had much of a filter but I can’t believe she told her co-workers— or at least this Bianca chick I’ve never heard of— that I’m a virgin. That’s a private fact about me. It’s not hers to share.

  I would call and curse her out— even if she is at the dinner where she hopes to receive a marriage proposal— if we were allowed to have phones in here. Since we’re not, I’d left mine in the car and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go out there and get it. But the first chance I have, I’m going to let her know how I feel.

  I don’t have time to think any further about it— or to further answer Bianca’s prying question, because an older woman in a ball gown— the Madame?, I can’t help but wonder —clinks a spoon against her wine glass and calls out, “Okay ladies, time to get this show on the road.”

  Bianca pats my shoulder, as if to tell me I don’t have to formally her answer her question— she already knows. Then she says, “Don’t forget your bracelet, hon.”

  “Oh yeah,” I reply, looking around until my eyes fall on a table in the corner that has different colored bracelets lined up in rows. I had imagined paper or rubber bracelets like the kind given out at skating rinks or clubs, to show who has paid or who is old enough to drink. Silly me. These are sparkling diamond bracelets, with different colored gems accenting the diamonds. “Rachel said to get a yellow one.”

  “You want a pink one tonight dear,” Bianca says.

  I look at her, distrusting her words.

  How I wish I had a phone, and that I could confirm with Rachel. I had never been able to figure out why she had told me to wear a yellow one, or what it all even means.

  “But Rachel said—” I insist.

  “You were late and you didn’t hear Terri’s announcement about it being Valentine’s Day,” Bianca says, in a rush, as if she’s already tired of helping me. She nods towards the lady who had told us to get the show
on the road. “Tonight there are only Valentine’s colors and a different system.”

  I look at the bracelets lined up on the table. Bianca’s right. There aren’t any yellow ones. Just red, pink and white.

  Bianca winks at me as she holds open the curtain that leads out onto the stage. I guess I’m going to have to trust this tall, meddling stranger, because I don’t have any other choice.

  I gulp the rest of my drink down. Suddenly the waiter is back at my side.

  “A shot, dear?” he asks, holding up a small glass full of clear liquid.

  It’s tempting. I don’t know what awaits me out there and the cocktail I just finished sure feels good swirling around inside my veins and my mind. Helping me not think too much, not ask too many questions like I usually do.

  I look over at Bianca, who is waiting for me to join her. I’m afraid she’ll disapprove because we don’t have time, but she nods at me and winks, as if knowing how much I need this drink.

  “I don’t really do shots…” I start to say, and the waiter places the tray on the table and holds up a smaller size glass full of the cocktail I’d just finished.

  “That’s why we have this chaser,” he assures me.

  “Okay, thanks,” I tell him, pounding down the shot and then gulping the chaser before I can feel it hit my stomach.

  This time I can’t hide my grimace. It was rough, but I’m already grateful for it as I relax a little bit more. I think about the guys waiting out there to bid on the pleasure of my company, and maybe more. Are they really handsome, and rich, and enviable, like Bianca says?

  My heart skips a beat as I finish the chaser and hand it back to the waiter with another nod of thanks.

  Then I grab the pink bracelet and hurry to catch up with Bianca, anxious to see what awaits me beyond the curtain.

  Chapter 5 – Maxim

  I watch the girls file out onto the stage, but I know all of them. None of them are the new girl.

  Where is she?

  I didn’t come here tonight to be with any of the women lined up in front of me. I could take any woman I wanted to dinner on Valentine’s Day. I could have an Ivy League educated debutante with whom to discuss politics, science or literature over wine and caviar.