Wanted: A Bad Boy Auction Romance Page 2

  The idea didn’t sound appealing at all, but speaking with the District Attorney there might play to my advantage. I doubted the DA would like it to be common knowledge that he frequented auction houses of women. It was even worse than a potential sex club.

  “Okay, Lawson, I’ll bite.”

  “I knew you would want to come! I will see you there Sunday at nine, okay? I’ll tell the boys to reserve a space for you at the staff parking.”

  “You’re overdoing it.”

  Lawson laughed. “I know, I’m just happy my old pal Owen is back!”

  “I never left,” I said. That part was true, he left me. I was still here.

  As soon as I hung up, I saw Monica stepping into the office. “I cannot believe you agreed to meet with that asshole!”

  “Easy. I’m not meeting with him. I’m checking out the club, and speaking to the other attendees. Maybe I’ll get a date or something.” I smirked at her, we both knew I didn’t need to buy some girl.

  I could have whatever I wanted.

  Whoever I wanted.

  Whenever I wanted.

  Monica considered it. Then said, “Wear the navy suit. It makes your eyes shine.”

  I smirked, feeling better for the first time that day. I was already going to wear a blue one.

  On my way out, she turned to me and said, “You know he wants something from you, right?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 3

  Sydney

  I got the call back from the Chicago Buyer’s Club on Saturday evening. By that time I had given up on the idea, and even Julia stopped urging me to call them again. But then again, Julia had spent most of the weekend out in the city, bar-trotting, as I called it.

  Back on Thursday, after Julia had gone to sleep, I finished that bottle of wine and, of course, picked up that flier. Twice I dialed the number and hung up before it could connect, laughing at myself and ridiculing the idea. Yet, every time I remembered why I would even consider doing it, I thought it was a good plan. After all, getting a few hundred for a couple of drinks with some spoiled jerk wasn’t too bad. And judging by the level of secrecy, no one would ever know!

  So, I finally called and forced myself to sit through half a dozen rings, expecting to hear a voice of some sleazy old man, but to my surprise, it wasn’t.

  “Evening. Chicago Buyer’s Club.” There was a slight European accent to the woman’s voice, but just distinguishable enough to be sexy.

  “Um, evening,” I replied, realizing I had no idea what to say.

  “Are you a young lady willing to take part in our Lonely Hearts event on Sunday? There is still a spot or two left for only the sexiest women.”

  Intrigued by her velvety voice, I said, “Yeah. Yes, I think I am interested.” I felt like I was in a spy movie, talking in code. “I do have a lonely heart.” Wasn’t that the truth? Between taking care of Declan and working more than full time, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had felt a man’s touch.

  “I believe we can help with that. Please, state your name, parameters, and, if possible, send a link to your social media profile to this number after we’re finished.”

  So, I did, I was proud of my looks. A blue-eyed blonde, an ex-gymnast with curves in all the right places. I was sure they’d at least give me a good look.

  “Brilliant,” the woman replied. “We shall review your application and contact you with further details. You can call this number any time. Ask for Ava.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks.”

  It was a short call, and I didn’t think much of it. It felt wrong somehow, but exciting at the same time. So, when my phone went off on that Saturday evening and I recognized the number, my heart started beating ten times faster. I didn’t know what to do at first and wished Julia was there to give me a kick in the butt.

  I jumped to my feet and paced the room.

  Okay, okay, just breathe. Don’t get your hopes up, maybe they want to tell you you’re out.

  When I felt calm enough, I swiped the screen and answered.

  “Evening. Sydney Mercer?” it was Ava.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I’m calling to let you know that we have evaluated your application and would like to invite you to our event tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.”

  I was speechless. Was I really doing this? I was thinking of all sorts of insane things. Of what I would tell my brother, and that I had work early on Monday, and that it was probably some clerical error or a practical joke…

  “I will be there,” I uttered, to my own surprise.

  “Brilliant! Please, dress comfortably. You will be on the list. Have a good night now, Sydney.”

  Ava hung up without giving me a chance to reply, so I was left staring at the phone, wondering if this conversation had really taken place. The call log proved it had.

  Wow.

  I quickly texted Julia, reciting the dialogue, word for word, and started pacing the room again. I was really doing this! What should I wear? Ava said to dress comfortably, but surely if there would be millionaires at this “Lonely Hearts” event, then I would need to be dressed to impress. Did I even have clothes suitable for that? I would have to borrow something from my roommate…

  +++

  That night, when Julia came home, and all day on Sunday, we tried on dresses, before finally settling on a nice black dress and a small handbag of a recognizable brand, which I had bought a few years before, when I had money. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with such a classic look.

  “Are you sure about it?” I asked.

  “The dress? Totally!”

  “No, this whole… thing,” I said with a sigh.

  “Look at it this way. Do you need money? If the answer is yes, then go for it and never look back.”

  “But that’s true for any number of things,” I countered.

  “Name three more things you would rather do to make some cash overnight. Realistically.”

  “Point taken.”

  It was a good and only point, really. What was the worst that could happen? It’s not like I had any plans for the weekend, anyway.

  We had a light late lunch, and then Julia gave me a ride to the club, giving me a last-minute prep talk.

  “I know some guys from the club, and they’re cool, but if something doesn’t feel right, you just text me and I’ll pick you up. I’ll be in the neighborhood until three.”

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  “Syd, I’m serious.”

  “It was your idea, Julia. I’ll be fine.” I checked my nails and my dress once again, checked my handbag – cell, keys, money. All set.

  Chicago Buyer’s Club was located in central Chicago. It was nice, but nothing about the street screamed this is where billionaires hang out! But I couldn’t know for sure. I assumed most of those guys were crazy secretive anyway.

  The front of the club looked more like a bar, stylized to look like a pub that had seen better days. I heard muffled music coming from inside. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go in. I stopped in my tracks. What the hell was I doing?

  But only one thing came to mind. Declan.

  So I put one foot in front of the other and pushed forward. I had to do this, for him.

  There was a guy at the entrance. He was too small to be a bouncer, but he looked like he was standing there with a purpose.

  “Is this, um,” I lowered my voice: “the Chicago Buyer’s Club?”

  The guy smiled. “Charming. It is. Are you here for the tonight’s event?”

  “Yes. I’m Sydney Mercer, they said I’d be on a list?”

  He got out his phone and scrolled for a moment, then said, “Checks out. Follow me.”

  He led me through the half-empty bar area towards a door that said Staff Only, and let me step through first. It was a peculiar feeling, and I thought this must be what Julia had felt the first time she began waiting tables. Being on the other side, seeing the ins and outs of a business.

  “Just wa
lk to the end and turn right. You’ll see some of the other girls there.”

  “Right.”

  I kept moving, smelling the kitchen and beer, but then at some moment those smells dissipated, and the air changed. It was smoother somehow, and the smells were sweet and delicate. It wasn’t perfume, but rather the smell of new furniture and fabrics. In the same way, the bar’s music subsided, and gave way to something more rhythmic.

  A moment later the hallway took a turn, and I found my way into a spacious room that looked more like a musical set. There was a wide stage at the far wall, where a DJ was doing his thing behind a laptop. To the right of him was the bar, and it was nothing like the one I had just left. There was neon and a lot of glass, colorful bottles and glasses of every shape and form. The room was getting crowded, with a few couples dancing on the dance floor in the middle. And it was obviously a rich crowd, too. There were mostly guys around, dressed in shiny suits, wearing shinier watches, and what women were there, looked like models, wearing gaudy jewelry and loud dresses.

  I was a fish out of water. They would probably laugh me out of the damn place. At my shoes, at my simple – comfortable – dress. I glanced around, looking for a place to sit down or stand away from everyone else. The bar was too crowded, but to my left there was a nice sitting area, blocked off from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain, and there I saw a group of other girls. Those must have been my people.

  At the head of the group was a tall woman in a red pantsuit and with a tablet in her hand.

  Ava.

  I hurried to join them.

  “…will find the papers in your inbox, so check your email when you get home tonight, yes? You will be receiving twenty percent of the final bid, free of tax.”

  I interrupted her: “I’m sorry, what’s the final bid?”

  Everyone looked at her. Ava said, “Welcome, Miss Mercer. The final bid is the amount of money your dates pay at the auction for the chance to spend the evening with you.”

  “The auction?” He heart began racing. What the hell was this place?

  “Why, of course. Don’t worry, dear, this is perfectly legal. Just a fun little game rich boys like to play.”

  “Right…” I had a strong urge to leave right then. To just storm out of the club and get a breath of fresh air and forget about all this.

  Think of Declan. Think of Declan.

  I didn’t move, and listened to Ava’s instructions. There was still forty minutes until the auction.

  When Ava left, the rest of the girls spread around the club in twos and threes, and I was left alone at a table, along with another girl, nervously watching the place.

  After a few minutes of awkward silence, the girl said, “First time here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It has to be my fifteenth.”

  “Really? How does this work exactly?” I asked, turning my chair to face the girl.

  “One of these guys will bid on you, and whoever pays the most, promises you the world and tries to get into your pants.”

  I frowned.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I paid off my student loans in three months, and had some money left over for a car! I’m Isabell, by the way.”

  I shook the girl’s hand. She was pretty. About the same age as me, but a little leaner and with black hair cut short. I could see why other girls wouldn’t want to hang out with her. Most of them were a good ten years younger, fresh out of high school and already looking for adventure – sex and parties. Isabell seemed like she was there for work, which wasn’t a bad thing.

  I had respect for a woman who made her way in the world, hell that’s why I was here.

  Doing this for me.

  For Declan.

  “Do you want to go to the bar?” she asked me. “I need to get a drink before this whole thing goes down. Helps with the nerves, you know?”

  “Sounds good.” A little liquid courage was just what I needed.

  Chapter 4

  Owen

  “Are you sure this is the place?” I asked the driver.

  “Positive, sir.”

  The last time I’d been at the club there were lights and a red carpet and a long string of expensive cars. All I saw now was a nondescript bar with a generic name and a dirty sidewalk in front of it.

  “Find a spot, okay? I won’t be long.”

  There was a skinny guy at the entrance, tapping away on his phone. As I approached, the kid put the phone away and stood straight.

  “Mr. Hayes, welcome!” He smiled wide and let me in.

  I was terribly overdressed for the place. I almost felt like covering my wristwatch, not to attract any extra attention. There were a couple of guys watching a game at the bar, and the few other people there were talking quietly, with nothing but drinks and French fries on their tables. I had to give props to Lawson, this was a convincing front.

  “To the Staff entrance,” the guy called from behind me.

  I walked without awaiting further instructions.

  As expected, the narrow corridor used to serve as a security checkpoint, but now there was a small kitchen on one side, and a room labeled Lockers on the other. I looked past them and found myself in the center of the Chicago Buyer’s Club.

  The place had seen recent renovation, and it was hard not to appreciate what Lawson had done with the place. There was a proper dance floor with a stage big enough to fit a symphony orchestra, and a bar with more variety than a liquor store. I walked past it, seeing some vaguely familiar faces in the crowd. No one paid me any attention. As these places went, people enjoyed their privacy, and granted as much to others.

  The general layout of the room had remained the same, and, if I remembered correctly, I would find the private lounges to the left of the stage.

  He saw a woman in a red suit standing near the entrance to the private section, and stepped up.

  “Hi. I’m Owen Hayes, here to see Lawson.” I tried to sound at ease, but couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. I hoped Lawson was right about the DA showing tonight, otherwise this whole thing would have been a complete waste of time.

  “Brilliant! Lawson will be with you shortly, Mr. Hayes. Please, take a seat.”

  I wandered a bit more and then moved to the other wall. There were ten booths, most of them empty, and I chose the one at the far wall, where nobody would be sneaking past it. A waitress was there the moment I settled down, and I gave my order. The days of my heavy drinking and partying were long behind me, so I ordered two fingers of whiskey and something to chew on.

  The DJ’s music was playing through the booth’s speakers, and it was a popular song. The club felt alive and full of energy. A good place to come to relax on a weekend…

  “Owen!” Lawson stormed into the room, arms spread wide, heading towards me for a hug. “So glad you could make it! You look great!”

  Lawson, on the other hand, didn’t look too well. I set my glass down and stood up to be embraced. He smelled of vodka, his smile white on his red face. He had a considerable belly, too. Time had changed him, and not for the better.

  “You look alright yourself, Lawson.”

  “Yeah, right! You can speak your mind, buddy. Won’t hurt me. I’m starting gym next week, anyway, so in a few months you won’t be able to recognize me!”

  The bullshit the man was able to spew! One of Lawson’s many talents.

  “Anyway, how do you like the place?” he continued.

  I made a show of looking over the booth, nodding approvingly. “Better than ever. I like what you’ve done with the stage.”

  “One of the first things they did! I suggested it. Investor’s money speaks you know.”

  Lawson froze with a dumb smile on his face, and I took a sip of my drink.

  “So, any sign of the District Attorney yet?”

  The smile changed slightly, but didn’t go away. “Always on the lookout, aren’t you, Owen? You haven’t changed a bit!”

  “Neither have you, I’m guessing.”
<
br />   Lawson glanced away, then looked me in the eye. “I’m sure he will show up once the bidding starts.”

  “But you think he will actually show, right?” I wouldn’t put it past Lawson to have lied to me about the District Attorney even coming to the club.

  “He got the invite so he will be here.” He glanced at the crowd again.

  “He just got an invite?” He didn’t respond. “So you aren’t even sure that he will be here.” I clenched my fists slightly in frustration

  “I know what you need from him Owen, just do it the easy way, okay?” he asked quietly.

  Shit, I thought. While Lawson was technically a friend, I didn’t really want to get him involved with my plan. His way was never easy.

  All I wanted to do was to see the District Attorney here at the club, participating in the event, and then hold it over his head the next time he tried to fuck with my business. But whatever Lawson wanted from the District Attorney was probably far worse than the quick picture I intended to blackmail him with.

  Lawson said, “Look, just stay for the evening, see what you think, maybe stay for the auction, okay? I’m sure he will be here shortly. I need to meet some more people. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for swinging by.”

  We shook hands and Lawson left the booth.

  I could see right through him. He was all talk, and the District Attorney was never going to show. Once I walked past the fake bar outside and found myself in a glitzy nightclub, I discovered it was only another front. I could only guess what kind of schemes Lawson was involved in, but whatever it was, I wanted no part of it.

  I had enough of my own shit to deal with.

  I finished my drink and left the booth, walked through the lounge area, and headed towards the exit. Taking a closer look at the guests now I was seeing men we had dealt with in the past. Men whose wives would not be too pleased that they were here. Even though I might not get to see the District Attorney tonight, maybe coming Chicago Buyer’s Club wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. These bored assholes were here thinking that they were getting away with everything.