The Philanthropist (Trillionaire Boys' Club Book 5)

by Aubrey Parker

  “Yes, but—”

  This is all Rudy needs; he’s off. Fortunately the buffet is filled with food that’s too weird to pile high. He picks at the caviar and foie gras with tiny forks, examining it like a murder scene.

  “Well,” says a voice on my left. “Don’t you look nice?”

  The voice is husky. I turn my head, ready to embrace Anthony after his trip.

  But of course, it’s not Anthony.

  It’s Aiden Page.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JAMIE

  “AND BY NICE,” AIDEN CONTINUES, when I fail to reply, “I mean ‘fuckable.’”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a compliment, Jamie.”

  He’s already helped himself to something I don’t recognize, perched atop his tiny white plate like a delicate decoration. It’s an amuse bouche composed of what I assume is sushi-grade salmon and a white spread atop a cracker so small it must be joking. He pops the thing in his mouth, chews, then continues.

  “I see you wanting to be offended. But what would you prefer? For me to come over here and say you’re unfuckable? That no man would ever have any interest in giving you what you so clearly need?”

  I glare at him. I want to walk away, but I won’t let him win.

  “Too tricky a question?”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t come over at all. I’d prefer you said nothing.”

  “I see. This is a lady thing. You don’t want to be complimented on your sex appeal. At least not by me. But what can I compliment? Your personality is especially bitchy tonight, Miss Kyle.”

  Goddammit. He’s going to keep poking me. He does it on the phone, he does it in email, and he’s done it every time we’ve been together in person. Even when we met at Urban Design, back when he was still being nice to me, I got the feeling that Aiden was playing an angle.

  “You could just say I look nice.”

  He nods. “You look nice.” Then he eyes me up and down, making me feel X-rayed. “That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing.”

  “Well. Thanks. I guess.”

  “It really shows the contours of your fabulous ass. It makes you look very …” He pauses, his fingers and thumb trying to pinch an articulate word from the air between us. “Very … como se dice? ‘Fuckable.’”

  “Get away from me, Aiden.”

  “Did Anthony deliver my message? I asked him to tell you hi.”

  “Yes. He did.”

  “There was actually more to that message but I thought Anthony might not want to deliver it. I also wanted to tell him that your breasts set a gold standard. I realized that the other day, while I was fucking some girl. She was on top, and her tits were in my face. I thought, These are nice. But I get the feeling Jamie’s are better.” He punctuates this assessment by staring right at my cleavage. “What? No thank you?”

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll scream.”

  “And make a scene? Or not. Good luck thawing this crowd.” Aiden looks around the room, disgusted. “Besides, aren’t I the reason you’re here?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for Anthony.”

  “Hmm. So you were planning to come before you knew I was coming.”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “Is that why you went shopping for this ass-hugging, tits-showing dress?”

  My head swivels hard toward a smirking Aiden. “Are you spying on me?”

  “You posted it on LiveLyfe. It was a real Pretty Woman sort of shopping spree.”

  My LiveLyfe profile is private. I let that go, because Aiden is smirking wider, clearly enjoying the way he’s caught me off guard.

  “Except, in Pretty Woman, the hooker fucks the rich guy.” He looks me over again. “I guess this time the fancy dress goes to waste.”

  “Do you have a point?”

  “We’re just talking movies. Have you seen Pretty Woman? Or is that before your time?”

  “Of course I’ve seen it.”

  “Someone should remake it for the new generation.”

  “Right. Fine.”

  “The way it really happened, maybe. Imagine a world that told the truth: a movie like that, but without the gloss. I’m going to make a note just for you, Jamie: Talk to Cole Ellison about remaking Pretty Woman, but with full penetration scenes. Tell me: Do you have any interest in acting? Perhaps I can offer you a role.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I move to leave.

  “So it’s true,” Aiden calls after me.

  “What’s true?” Damn it, I shouldn’t have answered.

  “That you decided to come only after you heard that I’d be here?”

  “I was always going to come. I just didn’t get a chance to shop until this afternoon.”

  “Pretty expensive places,” he says, picking at his fingernails, playing nonchalant. “I know what you make, remember? I used to be your boss.”

  For like five minutes when you and Onyx bought Urban Design just to fuck with Mia.

  “I don’t get the feeling you could afford those boutiques without shopping on Anthony’s dime. And I don’t get the feeling you like the idea of doing that unless you have no other option. Like, say, needing to grab a gown for some gala at the last minute.”

  I say nothing. In the stillness between us, I hear the bustle of conversation, but also the band’s meandering brass from the corner. A few stuffy-looking couples are on a small dance floor, making careful steps.

  When I look, so does Aiden. Then I turn back and he says, “Dance with me.”

  I laugh.

  He extends a hand. “I’m serious.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a shit.”

  “I see. You’re not a fan. That doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized.” He takes a step toward me. “Come on, Jamie. I’ve made a sizable donation to Anthony’s foundation. He and I are in all the same … clubs. We’ll work together more and more in the coming years. You and I might as well learn to get along.” The hand is still out. He moves it a little. “Please. Dance with me.”

  He’s such a fucker. Right now, if someone were watching, they’d think I was rude for my refusal. Aiden sounds so reasonable he’s almost convincing me, even with all that I know.

  “I’m here with someone.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

  Victory. “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “He was heading to the bar when you showed up to annoy me.”

  Aiden scans the crowd, his eyes narrowed, then points right at Rudy, like a black eye amid the crowd. “Is that him, over there, eating the garnish?”

  “No.”

  Aiden laughs. “Oh, bless his heart. He thinks it’s salad.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Yes. Please. I won’t stop you. Show him where the dressings are. You know which are the dressings and which are the soups, right?”

  “Goodbye, Aiden.”

  He raises a hand and gives me a satirical wave as I make my way toward Rudy — sideways, unwilling to give Aiden a view of my rear.

  “I’ll see you later. When I present Anthony with the check, and accept my position on the foundation’s board.”

  I hear the first part, but it’s not until I’m another ten feet toward Rudy that my brain acknowledges the second part.

  … accept my position on the foundation’s board.

  And I think, Oh, shit.

  Of course. Aiden is donating a huge sum to the foundation, and Anthony loves his foundation like the children he never had. Aiden’s reputation — whether I buy it or not — is that of a do-gooder philanthropist with a rebellious streak. By all signs, he makes an obvious candidate for the board.

  I understand Aiden’s game. He couldn’t get to Anthony through Onyx and Mia, or through any of the avenues I’ve been able to block. But now he’s hitting Anthony right in his heart.

  I look back, but Aiden is gone.

  I’m suddenly hollow.

  Despi
te everything, he might get his way after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JAMIE

  I MIGHT AS WELL START drinking.

  Rudy, who has a head start, continues along with me. I don’t really like him much, but right now he’s the only port in a storm. I don’t fit with anyone here other than Anthony, but beyond a quick hello hug and few words, I haven’t had a chance to see him at all since his arrival. Anthony is tonight’s man of the hour — along with Aiden, apparently, who will be joining the team.

  So Rudy’s the closest thing I have to a friend. And that’s really sad.

  “How much longer do you want to stay at this thing?” he asks.

  I tell him to get more drinks and leave me alone.

  But of course he’s back in five minutes, and I stand around a tall table with him because he’s the least of evils. At least I can sort of relate to Rudy. I don’t get why Caitlin — who could do so much better — is dating the guy, but he’s at least on my level, socially speaking. Aiden was right; I don’t belong here in the upper echelon. I did feel like I was in Pretty Woman while I was buying this dress in some chi-chi boutique on the Delmar Loop. The clerks weren’t rude to me like they were to Julia Roberts, but I still had to fight a fainting spell after looking at the price tags.

  I’m going to make a note just for you, Jamie: “Talk to Cole Ellison about remaking Pretty Woman, but with full penetration scenes.” Tell me: Do you have any interest in acting? Perhaps I can offer you a role.

  Man, I must be inebriated, enough that Aiden’s stupid sexist joke won’t leave my mind. My brain seems intent on sabotaging me once the hook has set, and every idle moment carries the vision further.

  I’m in the shop, buying my pretty purple dress.

  I’m in the shop and Aiden walks in, dressed in a tux like Richard Gere.

  I’m in the shop and Aiden enters to pay for my purchases.

  I thank him by hopping up on a table and spreading my legs.

  Ugh. It’s the worst. Having Aiden in my head is like being stuck with a horrible song. The more I try not to think about the ideas that Aiden (and Caitlin) planted inside my mind, the more my imagination seems intent on seeing Aiden plant something else right where I want it.

  I shiver. Maybe conversation will help. “What kinds of cases do you work on at your firm?” I ask Rudy.

  “Boring ones.”

  I wait, but he’s serious. There really is no more to his answer. “What do you mean?”

  “Just like wills and contracts and stuff. Not criminal law.”

  “Is that how you met Caitlin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And, what … you just asked her out one day, out of the blue?”

  “Pretty much.”

  This is like pulling teeth. Come on, Rudy. Give me something to work with.

  “Do you want to dance?” he asks.

  Not really. Not at all. But what’s the alternative? I’d planned to spend the evening getting between Aiden and Anthony, but joke’s on me — Aiden isn’t even trying to snug up to Anthony because his donation and forthcoming appointment to the board is cozy enough already. I’d planned to scope Aiden as he tried to network the crowd, spoiling things for him along the way. But after our last encounter, being anywhere near Aiden is about the last thing I want. He’d take it as a come-on and pollute the air with more of his stupid bullshit.

  And my traitorous imagination is eager to play along.

  “Fine,” I say.

  We move onto the floor. I expect Rudy to be awful, but he isn’t bad at all. This isn’t a club, so there’s no raising the roof to be had. We’re moving with grace, until ten minutes into our dancing when I finally realize that Rudy has an erection.

  Embarrassed, I pull back. I try to stand up straight, to stiffen my joints, to frame out the space between us.

  Rudy laughs. “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Just dancing.”

  “You look like a robot.”

  “That’s how you waltz.” But really, I’m not sure. I’m hardly a dance aficionado. We might be foxtrotting. Or doing the lambada, for all I know.

  “Come closer. In here.” He wraps his arm around the small of my back and tugs me forward. Again, my leg makes the acquaintance of his hard dick.

  I pull back just enough to separate myself from his protrusion, acting as though I don’t notice. Neither of us have had enough to be wasted, so he still has his pride. I always figured male genitals responded to things they found interesting, but guy friends have told me that they can sometimes go off for no reason. Just because Rudy is hard doesn’t mean he wants to be, so I should give him the dignity of letting it fade as if I never knew.

  “You’re all hunched. Come on, loosen up.” And Rudy pulls me again, presses his rod against my leg. It throbs as our motion rubs it.

  I break away. “I need to use the restroom.”

  I leave without looking back, head to the restroom and splash some water on my face.

  We need a reset. Rudy is only here as a prop. It’s not like I need to put on airs. Or talk to him. I definitely don’t need to dance with him and his little soldier. Caitlin loaned him to me like a book. I’ll return him later tonight. This isn’t a date. I can stop acting like it is one.

  I come back to the ballroom and see Rudy waiting.

  “I need to get some air,” I say.

  “Anthony is going to speak any minute. They just announced it. Won’t that be when that guy gives him a check or something? Whatever it is Cait said you’re here for?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, don’t you want to see it?”

  No. Not at all. Because what am I supposed to do — shout it down like a heckler at a wedding? Unless Aiden was lying, they’ll have discussed it all beforehand. Anthony will introduce Aiden to the crowd, as if we don’t all know him already, then he’ll say what a generous man Aiden is and what an amazing, socially-conscious company Forage is, before announcing Aiden’s addition to his board.

  That’s already decided — maybe even formally handled. I can’t stop it if I try, and seeing it will surely bum me out.

  I should go home.

  “I just need a few minutes.” I walk away, waving a little, with clear body language that tells Rudy I’ll meet him later.

  Instead of catching on, he says, “I’ll come with you.”

  Annoyed, I find the front door. I step outside, near a stone planter with a pruned evergreen. I don’t look back or hold doors, letting Rudy catch them for himself. I’m giving him every vibe that I want to be alone. But the dude just isn’t getting it.

  There’s a tense silence between us, at least for me. I can’t enjoy the quiet. I’m too focused on Rudy’s inability to take a fucking hint.

  “So you and Cait are pretty close, huh?” he says.

  “I guess.”

  “I knew two girls in college who grew up as best friends, just like you guys.”

  Thanks, Rudy. That’s fucking fascinating. “Hmm,” I say, looking into the distance.

  “Funny, though. One of them — Chelsea, my friend? She said that at one point, they got … like … more than friendly.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You know. Like … you know.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know. What?”

  “They were, like, lesbians.”

  “Good for them.”

  “Not now, though. I guess now they’re bi or whatever.”

  I don’t answer. This story bores me.

  “You know. They’d … like … be with each other. And with guys.”

  “To each their own.”

  There’s a long moment, then I notice that Rudy is clearly uncomfortable, gearing up for something he’s willing himself to do. Too late, I realize what it is.

  “You two ever do that?”

  Am I really hearing this?

  “You know. You and Cait. Doing stuff together.”

  I shake my head, gape-mouthed. “Unbelievable.”

&n
bsp; “I hear it’s not that unusual. For girls to … you know … experiment.”

  “Jesus, Rudy.”

  He looks me over. “You look nice tonight. I always say that to Cait about you. I almost think sometimes that—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “I dunno. But if, like … you and her? And if you wanted to try something—”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I say.

  Awkwardly: “Um. Okay.”

  Our silence weighs a hundred tons.

  “What should we talk about?” Rudy asks.

  I walk to a stone bench and sit. I don’t feel like playing.

  Rudy, unfortunately, presumes another invitation — this one to join me. He sits. His hand brushes my leg. “Did I offend you or something?”

  “No,” I say, sarcastic. “That was totally appropriate, and not at all disgusting.”

  “I just said you look nice.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t understand women. You want attention, but it’s a problem when you get it.”

  “Just let it go, Rudy.”

  “I’m not hitting on you or anything.”

  Yes you are. You very clearly are. “Fine. Then we can drop it.”

  “Do you want to go back inside?”

  “I think I’d rather go home.”

  “Okay.” He stands. Asshole still has an obvious hard-on. What do I have to do to turn him down or off? And why do I have to?

  Could this night get any worse? Aiden got his way, I’ve wasted my evening, and my friend’s boyfriend basically invited me to a threesome.

  Caitlin is so getting an earful tomorrow.

  I have my purse, so this can end now. I fish out my keys, then say, “Good night, Rudy.”

  “Wait. You’re just leaving?”

  “Isn’t that what we just decided?”

  “You know. The drinking.”

  “I’m fine. I only had two drinks.”

  “I actually meant me. I shouldn’t drive.”

  “Call an Uber.”

  He’s looking at me like a lost dog, and I know what’s coming next. “I’m right on the way to your place. Can you drop me off?”