Delta's Baby Surprise

by Violet Paige

  “I see you escaped for the night.” He tipped a drink toward me.

  I scowled. “It’s never easy.”

  I glanced over his shoulder at my guards standing by the front entrance. Their arms were crossed. They scanned every guest who walked past. They didn’t give a shit that every person in the club was a member. You couldn’t walk through the front doors without a signed contract. Correction—a hefty deposit and a signed contract.

  There were standards for all members.

  “You can’t shake those two?” he asked.

  “They go where I go.”

  “That goes with the territory I guess.”

  I needed another drink. I eyed the bartender. He nodded and poured me a second bourbon. He knew which bottle I had selected for the night.

  I liked expensive smooth bourbons that took decades to distill. The Titan imported my favorite from the States to keep on hand for nights like this.

  “It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

  “Six,” I answered. “Sutcliffe has been a bastard lately.”

  Ashford laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that shit. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Was I supposed to answer? Tell him the burden was suffocating? That sometimes the walls closed in on me? There were days I considered hiding under a ball cap and hopping aboard one of the catamarans in the marina. Sailing the hell out of here. Ashford was one of my oldest friends, but even he wasn’t privy to those thoughts.

  “Do you have the tally?” I changed the subject.

  Ashford reached in his back pocket, withdrawing a narrow but thick sheet of paper. He handed it to me.

  “Not much on there tonight,” he added.

  The bartender walked around the edge of the counter, carrying the aged bourbon. “Here you go, sir.” He nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  I scanned the tally. “Why is the bottom blank?” I looked at my friend.

  “Hell if I know,” Ashford huffed. “And they’re late. I’m going to talk to Lesage. He can’t expect us to come back if this is how gala nights are being run.”

  I gripped his upper arm firmly. “We’ll just take our investments elsewhere.” I eyed him.

  Ashford’s nodded slightly. “It’s a shame. Freychon needed a place like this.”

  “I agree. We all needed it. But he’s not up to the task. Come on. My driver can drop you somewhere.”

  I was prepared to leave. Admit tonight was a loss. A wasted night, trying to feed my dark habits.

  Ashford followed me toward my security guards. The bass lowered and the lights flickered.

  “Wait.” I stopped him.

  “Want to turn around?”

  I handed the tally back to him. “Let’s take a look.” I nodded toward the black door.

  “I’m just a loyal follower,” he ribbed.

  I silenced him with an icy glare. No one could speak to me with that fucking tone. Friend or not.

  Two

  Molly

  Snap. Snap. Fingers clicked inches from my nose.

  I blinked.

  “Did you hear me, cher?”

  The stage manager wore a headset. He blended French and Spanish so frequently it was hard to follow. Although, I learned most citizens of Galona mixed the languages.

  I nodded in a fog. “Yes.”

  Brooklyn poked me in the ribs. “He’s trying to tell us how it works.”

  I realized his purpose, only I couldn’t believe I was going along with this.

  “I-I don’t know about this.” I fidgeted in line in front of my best friend.

  “Smile and have fun,” she instructed. “This is a once in a lifetime chance. Bucket list, remember?”

  I twisted my lips together. “Right. The Galona bucket list.”

  The short wiry man had moved on to the girls behind us. I heard his sharp voice instructing them to follow an order of events.

  “I don’t think I can do it.” I shook my head. “I’m going to head back to the apartment. Ok?”

  Brooklyn caught my shoulders. “No, you’re not. Until tonight I thought this place was an urban legend. But it’s not. It’s real, Molly. You can’t just walk out on this chance. It’s legendary.”

  I nodded. “I can. I’ll tear up the contract on my way out.”

  She frowned. “I’m not going to let you do that. There is an excellent chance on the other side of that curtain there’s a member of the royal family.” She was getting caught up in her fantasy again. “And you are guaranteed whether he’s royalty or not that he’s going to be a multi-millionaire. An oil tycoon. A wine baron. A celebrity. It’s going to be a celebrity. I just have this feeling.” Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement.

  I knew mine didn’t look like that. My stomach flipped itself into one more knot. It was not an adrenaline rush. I was on the verge of panic. I sucked air through my nostrils.

  “I’m going to be sick. I can’t do it. I have to get out of here.”

  I pivoted on my heels and bolted for the back exit, but ran square into the tiny man with the headset. I heard someone call him Luc. Nametags probably weren’t permitted in a place that existed on its secrecy.

  “No, no, cherie. This way.” He jerked me back to the line and shoved me forward.

  Brooklyn giggled. “It’s going to be awesome. I promise. It’s guaranteed.”

  “I-I changed my mind,” I tried to explain. “You’re going to have to do it without me.”

  But it was too late. The line had lurched forward, carrying me with it. Two more steps and I was on stage.

  I squinted as the spotlight smacked me in the face.

  “Smile,” Brooklyn whispered behind me, prodding me forward. “Look natural. And blink, damn it.”

  My feet felt clunky and unbalanced as I inched across the stage. I didn’t know whether to meet the audience head on or pretend they weren’t there. I dared a glance, but the lights were too bright. The faces were dark, blanketed in splotchy shadows.

  I followed the brunette in front of me. Her hair was styled with tight ringlets that bounced when she walked. They weren’t the only thing bouncing. She was practically falling out of her top. I guessed she was using dress tape to keep herself tucked in. I knew my outfit didn’t wow the audience. A fitted denim skirt, topped by a soft white T-shirt. Brooklyn said it looked sweet, but I knew she wanted me to change. I stood next to the brunette as we formed a single row against the curtain.

  Brooklyn whispered in my ear. “We’re actually doing this. We’re in The Titan.”

  I wished I had some of her giddiness instead of the nausea that attacked me in prickly waves. My palms were sticky.

  “Please examine your tallies,” the MC instructed. “The gala has begun.” He wacked a gavel on a marble pedestal, announcing the beginning of my nightmare.

  My shoulders jerked at the startling sound. I swallowed softly.

  “I would like to invite our participants to await their tally number before returning.” His accent was thick. I couldn’t place it. He might not have been a native Galonian.

  I shook my head at the ridiculous thought. Why did I care where he was from? Why was I trying to study dialect as if I had a linguistics degree? I was going to be paraded in front of the audience a second time, only this time it would be alone. I had to walk without shaking. Without my ankles buckling. Without puking on the polished floor. That’s what I should focus on.

  “Molly, let’s go.” Brooklyn kicked me with a slight tap of her hip and I turned for the doorway.

  As soon as we were backstage I exhaled and bent forward, gripping my knees.

  “Did you see anyone?” she asked. “Maybe one of the princes? I heard there might be a director here. Did you recognize any of them?”

  I shook my head. “The lights were too bright.” I looked up. “How did you hear about a director?” I hadn’t seen her speak to anyone else. As soon as we arrived we were ushered into a room where someone explained the contents of the non-
disclosure contract we were required to sign.

  We also had the option of getting our hair and makeup touched up and a complimentary glass of champagne, but only one. I wished I had accepted it. Drinking beyond that was prohibited.

  She shrugged. “One of the girls in the back said they’re shooting a movie in Harwina. It’s a possibility.”

  “That’s an hour from here.” Talking helped. Concentrating on facts. Miles between cities. Those things cleared my head. I tried to picture the road from Freychon to Harwina. I had been there once.

  “But this is The Titan.” She beamed. “It’s legendary.”

  “Right. Legendary,” I whispered.

  “Cherie, cherie, it is time.”

  “Oh no. No. No. No.” I shook my head.

  I was surprised at how strong he was for having such a slight build. Within seconds he had nudged me forward and the spotlight landed on my feet.

  “Tally seven-seven-seven.” The MC’s voice rang clear as he announced my number.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered. There was a hand on the small of my back as I was thrust on stage.

  The MC cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

  It started rapidly.

  I tried to follow the voices as they called out, but in the pit of darkness it was impossible. Some sounded older than others. I even heard an American or two mixed in. I squinted, feeling my heart race. I tried to ground myself. I tried to breathe.

  I tried to pretend that auctioning myself off for a night to Galona’s secret society was exactly what I wanted to do.

  Three

  Damon

  “That is the one,” Ashford suggested, pointing to the next number on his ticket. It was creased down the middle. I don’t know why he folded it in his pocket rather than just leaving it on the table in between tenders. “Your type. I can tell.”

  I was impatient. Tonight’s tally wasn’t impressive. None of them held my attention. They were all the same. Cleavage. Poufy hair. More makeup than a cover model. At this point I didn’t know what would hold my attention. Why had I thought another gala would give me something? Push me? Excite me? Clearly a six-month break hadn’t awakened a renewed interest.

  “I don’t have a type.” I strummed my fingers on the table.

  “That could change after tonight.”

  “I didn’t see her,” I admitted. Nothing stood out in the first-round viewing. Evidently he was referring to seven-seven-seven.

  “Invest,” he coaxed.

  “I have invested plenty in this country,” I snapped.

  Ashford’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Fine. Then I’ll invest.”

  I picked up my bourbon. Malcom Caron continued with his description of the next tally. I listened indifferently. I didn’t care where she was from or what her favorite movie was. Ashford could have her. He could have all of them. It had taken too long to get to this point. Tonight’s gala was a complete fuck up. I may have stopped Ashford from saying something to Lesage, but I’d ring him tomorrow. This was a waste of a million-dollar membership.

  I slapped Ash on the shoulder. “Have a good night. Hope your tender goes well.”

  “You’re not staying?” he whispered.

  “What’s the point?”

  I could fuck any beautiful girl I wanted. I didn’t need a damn cat and mouse game to give me a hard-on. Fuck this.

  I pushed to stand when seven-seven-seven walked on stage.

  My eyes followed the spotlight by complete fucking accident. I had every intention of leaving. Of taking my security detail, grabbing the last of the bottle of bourbon from behind the bar, and sleeping alone tonight.

  But then she walked on stage.

  Fuck.

  No one had looked so out of place up there before.

  Wide frightened eyes. Pink lips that quivered slightly. She pressed her palms into her sides. It wasn’t what the other girls did. No woman had ever stood on the stage like she’d rather jump off and run to the closest exit.

  The women who came here wanted to be here. They wanted this room and everything it stood for. Titles. Money. Power. Opportunists might have been a name for them. Fucking gold diggers was more accurate.

  They didn’t get more than one night. It was a mutual agreement protected by a legal document. No phones or photography were allowed. The Titan had shut down any potential problems long ago. Tallies were vetted. And membership was exclusive. The women who took their one shot had an angle. They had convinced themselves they were worthy of a prince or a Hollywood star. They thought this was their one night to convince him too. Fools.

  But seven-seven-seven wasn’t that kind of woman.

  Malcom cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

  I slid into my seat and picked up the baton with my crest on it. One look at her kick-started something primal under my skin. I couldn’t explain it, but it drove me to raise my baton. Fight for what I wanted. Protect what should be mine. Every man here was identified by his family crest. That’s how dated Galona was. Crests. Family trees that could be traced for centuries. Old money. Ancient money.

  “You’re staying?” Ash whispered.

  “Shut up.”

  The bidding started at twenty-thousand.

  I waited for the fifth bid before I raised the crest in the air. “One hundred thousand,” I shouted.

  “Accepted tender is one hundred thousand,” Malcom stated. “Any other propositions?”

  It was dark, but I stared at my competition. I dared any other man here to make another offer.

  “One-fifty.”

  I turned to see the House of Roux’s crest illuminated. Fuck. Sebastian Roux.

  “You might have a problem.” Ash leaned over.

  “He’ll let it go. He’s just trying to raise the tender. He likes to make things interesting. Gives the bastard something to do.”

  “One seventy-five.” My baton flickered in my hand.

  Sebastian jumped in after me. “One ninety-five.”

  Malcom’s eyebrows arched. “The House of Roux has submitted a tender for one ninety-five.”

  I gritted my teeth together. “Take her. She’s yours,” Ash baited me. “Don’t let Sebastian win.”

  “Two hundred.” My hand shot in the air again.

  From here I wasn’t sure if her eyes were blue or green. They were light and airy. She looked less afraid, and more bewildered about what was happening. The challenge for her was unmasked in front of everyone.

  “Two twenty,” Roux barked.

  “Mother fucker,” I groaned. How high was he going to let this go? There was a point where I could annihilate him. Rub his face in my wealth. Make him regret his decision to steal my first tender in months.

  “Come on, Damon. You aren’t afraid of a little proposition war, are you?” he taunted. I heard the men at his table chuckle.

  “Never am.” I grinned in the dark. I could end this now. I would.

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  The room was shocked into silence.

  I waited for Sebastian to say something, but he didn’t have the balls to challenge me again.

  “The tender is complete for seven-seven-seven and has been awarded to the House of Sauvage.”

  I rose from the table, straightening my jacket. “Congrats.” Ashford shook my hand.

  “Thank you. I think I’ll collect my tally and get out of here.” I slammed my empty glass on the table. “Gentlemen, enjoy your evening. Good luck with your prospects.” I nodded to the nearby tables. I stopped as I passed by Sebastian.

  I leaned toward his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me like that again.”

  “In here, you’re like everyone else,” he snapped.

  I patted him as I began to stroll away. “You’re mistaken, Roux. I’m not like anyone else.”

  Four

  Molly

  Brooklyn squealed when I walked backstage in a trance.

  “Who was it? Was it fun?” She shook me. My head rattled. “I just heard
the numbers going up and up and up. They were fighting over you.”

  “I have no idea. It was a blur. There were two houses at the end. I couldn’t figure out the accents.” I reached for my forehead. “I-I really don’t know what happened.”

  The stage manager appeared beside us. “Cherie, Cherie, you must come. Come, with me. Quickly.”

  I looked at Brooklyn. I wasn’t leaving without knowing exactly where I was going. I wanted to stay for her moment on stage as well.

  “No. I need details.” I stuck my chin forward.

  “Cherie, your sponsor. Come now,” he urged.

  “Just tell us who it is,” Brooklyn pleaded. “I’m dying to know. I thought this was going in numerical order, but apparently, that’s not Galonian. I have no idea when I’m going out there. I’m dying back here. What if I’m left with crumbs?” All the men were billionaires. She had nothing to worry about.

  He sighed. “Cher, he is waiting. You must be quickly.”

  I didn’t correct his English. “Who is he?”

  “Yeah, who is it? The director? Please tell me it’s an actor. I will die if you end up with Chris Fox tonight. Although, totally ironic that you’d land an American when we’re in Europe, but he’s still super sexy and—”

  “The tenders are sealed,” he interrupted Brooklyn’s chatter.

  “I’m not moving unless you tell me who is waiting for me.”

  “Americans,” he grumbled.

  I frowned. I hated when that happened. I wasn’t being American. I was being safe and cautious. Following the girl code. Brooklyn should know who I was with and I should know where she was. It was practical and logical. American, my ass.

  He pushed the microphone from his lips and motioned for me to lean in.

  “Yes?” My stomach lurched.

  “His Royal Highness,” he whispered, cupping my ear with his hand.

  I straightened my back. “Which one?” The royal family was huge. There were distant cousins and uncles. The family tree was a twisted spider web. He could be talking about a count or a duke.