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.
3
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 r
aised 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.”
4
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.
“His Royal Highness,” he restated.
“Are you talking about the king?” Brooklyn blurted out.
“Shh.” He pinched her elbow. “Tenders are sealed. Don’t speak again.”
She rolled her eyes at him. It did seem ridiculous once we were vetted and inside the club that secrets had to be kept from each other.
“The king? The king was in the audience? And he bid on me?” I whispered quickly.
Two girls walked past us when the MC called another set of numbers. I didn’t notice if they heard our discussion.
“He has placed a formal tender which has been accepted and recorded. There are no bids,” he scolded. “Now we must go.”
I bit my lip. I was ill-prepared for this entire night, but facing the king had never occurred to me. That wasn’t supposed to be an option, was it? That was all Brooklyn’s fantasy. That we’d end up meeting a couple of the royal princes or maybe a couple of dukes. Really, she would have been happy with a B-list actor. The process thrilled her. The secrecy. The exclusivity of being a part of a fabled tradition. She was caught up in fairy tales and stories I hadn’t believed in until I was smack in the middle of one.
I was stuck in a chapter I couldn’t crawl out of.
Brooklyn hugged me. “Have fun. Be good.” She giggled. “I can’t believe you. And you didn’t even want to do this. Of all the members, you got him.”
“But I didn’t. I don’t,” I whispered.
“Come now. You must.”
I waved at Brooklyn, trying to steady my erratic pulse.
I was escorted through a dark passage. Luc’s headset crackled and sputtered the farther we walked.
“Careful, cher.” He guided me to a door. I may have tripped without his help.
My heart beat wildly. I felt frantic. Nervous.
“Do not forget your contract.”
I nodded. I couldn’t remember what was in it. Something about no pictures. No social media posts. I didn’t know the rest. My phone was at the apartment. I wasn’t allowed to bring it to the club.
“But what if—” I looked down to ask a question, but the funny man was gone. The hallway was black. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. My head was swimming. I tried to concentrate on breathing slowly. I was in too deep to back out now. I had to get it together.
I tried to retrace the chain of events that brought me here. One thing was certain. I never expected here to be a dark hallway, alone, waiting to be escorted to a contractually bound evening with His Royal freaking Highness. For the first time tonight, the shiver that ran up my spine might be excitement rather than panic.
My thoughts were interrupted when a green light flashed on the wall. Did that mean I was supposed to go through the door? I waited until finally it seemed ludicrous to stand in the hall any longer.
I took one last deep breath and twisted the knob in my palm. With a gentle push, the door swung open.
I expected a room. Maybe something with red velvety drapes and blue elephant paintings like in the Moulin Rouge. But there was nothing exotic or seductive about what was on the other side. The door was an exit to the back of the parking lot. I was met with dim street lights.
A long b
lack car was parked a few feet in front of me. A driver stood, holding the rear door.
“Mademoiselle,” he greeted me quietly.
I stepped forward.
“This way.”
I eyed him. There was nothing distinguishable about his face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A round chin. He wore a cap. Was I doing this? Getting into a car behind The Titan?
“His Majesty waits,” he urged me.
“Yes, I know.” I stopped just shy of the door and glanced inside.
From where I stood I could see his arm. I followed the lines of a crisp white shirt to the cuff at his wrist. I couldn’t make out the letters monogrammed on his cufflinks. His watch caught the small bit of light coming off the building. He had large hands. I also noticed his legs were long and muscular in a pair of fitted dark pants.
He strummed his fingers. He was waiting.
“Mademoiselle,” the driver urged.
“Right. Yes.”
I ducked, climbing into the backseat. The door closed behind me. And I came face to face with His Royal Highness.
5
Damon
I had waited longer than I should have. I checked my watch again. I had paid out the highest tender of my life. I wasn’t leaving here without her. I reminded myself she wasn’t a regular tally. There had never been another woman like her at The Titan before. I wouldn’t have paid half a million otherwise.
Georgan closed the car door as she slid into the leather seat next to me. Finally.
“Good evening.”
“Hi.” Her voice was soft, filling the silent recesses of the backseat.
Fuck. Her lips were even more edible up close. Her cheeks were bright. I knew she wasn’t drunk. It was against the rules. She was either nervous or excited. I considered there was nothing wrong with a combination.
The car lurched forward.
“Where are we going?” she eked. She watched the club fade out of view as Georgan drove toward the coastal highway.
“Does our night extend by the minutes you kept me waiting?”
“Excuse me?” I watched the curve of her neck as she swallowed.
“You’re American?” I questioned. Most of them were. They kept the pipeline running.
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