Flavia whipped out her phone and sent James a text message, telling him to call all the wedding guests to cancel the wedding. She wouldn't contact him again until he'd done it.
"I'm not selling myself short, Vi," she vowed. "Not to James or any other man who pays for sex. I'm worth more than that, surely!"
"Mm-hmm," Vi said vaguely as she pulled out into traffic.
For all her brave words, the tiny voice in the back of Flavia's mind taunted her that if James no longer wanted her, who would?
Some crazy man who was willing to pay a million dollars for one night with her, she reminded herself. Even if she'd never sell herself, it was a comforting thought she was worth a million dollars.
Eight
Was she imagining it, or did Jay look a little less crazy today? Xan eyed him from the other side of the pub, wondering whether she should approach him or just leave him to his drinking. He'd fall off his bar stool soon enough without any help from her.
She squinted at the drink in front of him and was surprised to see that he had a beer and not his usual bourbon bottle. Maybe he really was starting to get over Phuong. If he wasn't drunk yet, then she should risk speaking to him now instead of later.
Weaving between tables and potted palms, Xan made her way through the jungle to the bar. Magic Marcel was on duty tonight and, true to his name, he produced her favourite drink as if he'd read her thoughts and conjured it into being. The iced ginger beer slid down her throat, leaving behind the faint but familiar burn of alcohol.. Or was it the ginger that left her lips tingling? It didn't matter. The local beer was one of the more blissful bits about working in Broome.
Jay…was a blight on her whole bloody day. She'd avoided him for as long as she could, but she knew she had to tell him. If she got it over with, she could enjoy her beer and the rest of her evening in peace.
Sighing, Xan carried her drink to his table. He nodded in way of greeting and continued drinking. He might not be into the bourbon tonight, but that didn't make him any less of an alcoholic.
"I've booked an advertising company to help raise the resort's profile in the media. A film crew will be here the week we're closed to guests, so they'll be able to take footage of whatever they like. I have two airlines already interested in showing the video to all their Australian passengers, and I'm waiting to hear back from three more. By Friday, I – "
"Fuck, do you ever stop working? It's after five. Knock off already. I have." Jay took a deep draught of his beer.
Xan frowned. "I thought you might like to know what I'm doing to keep your business in profit. Sorry for thinking you might give a shit." She seized her drink and marched across the pub to a table as far from the wanker as possible. Slumping into a chair, she checked to make sure the pot plant jungle hid her from his sight before she pulled out her book. Now she'd told him about the film crew, she had finished work for the day. She could relax and live in a romantic fantasy world that could only exist between the pages of a book, because all real men were bastards.
"Good girl." A glass clunked on her table and Xan looked up to meet Jay's approving expression. "Is it any good?" He jerked his chin at the book.
"What do you care?" Xan said, snapping it shut. "I'm off duty, which means I don't have to deal with your shit. Go away. Go bother someone else."
"I want to know your opinion. I figure you'll be more honest than most, because you don't care what I think about you." He pushed the glass across the table. "I even brought a peace offering."
"What's in it?" She peered suspiciously into the drink. "If you're trying to drug me…"
Jay snorted. "No idea what's in it. Ask the barman. He made it. He says he knows what you like because you always order the same thing."
Iced ginger beer. Xan sniffed the glass delicately, then folded her hands in front of her on the table. "Just hurry up and ask your question, so I can go back to my book."
"That good, huh?" Jay grabbed the paperback and flicked through the pages.
While she waited for him to lose interest in a book that he couldn't possibly like, Xan drained the last of her drink. The beer Jay had brought fizzed seductively, the bubbles winking at her through the glass.
"So you think a girl selling her virginity is a good thing?"
Xan almost spat out her drink, but she managed to control herself. Just barely. "What?"
"That chick on TV. Now you're reading a book about a girl auctioning herself off to the highest bidder. You think it's a good idea?"
"It's her body. Her choice." Even as she said the words, they sounded hollow.
Jay wouldn't let it drop. "Would you do it?"
"Bloody hell, no!" Xan let out a shaky laugh. "Even if I did have my virginity to sell. Did you see how much money that auction's up to now? The only men who have that kind of money are rich, old businessmen who'd have to use Viagra to do the deed. Ugh. Dirty old men in expensive suits, except they'd be out of the suits and…oh, I don't want to think about it."
"Double standards, Xan. You think what the girl's doing is fine, but the bloke who helps her do it is a dirty old man by default." For the first time, Xan thought Jason looked angry. "What if he's not old?"
Xan's gaze strayed to the book Jay still held in his hands. "Well, if he was someone she knew, or someone she might normally have a relationship with, without having to be paid for it, or someone she actually wanted…" She trailed off, then added, "It's the money. Men who pay for sex evidently can't get it any other way."
"What if he's not paying for the sex? What if he's only paying the money so he knows he'll be her first? He'd be saving her from all the dirty old men, making sure her first time is memorable, all the while knowing that she wouldn't have any one to compare him to. No prior expectations. Just…eager to experience something new and he'd get to share that with her." The dreamy look in his eyes told Xan Jay believed every word of the tale he spun. Who was he spinning it for – her or himself? "Don't you wish someone had made your first time perfect, Xan? Don't you think that's what the auction girl's really after – someone to make her feel like she's wanted and valued?"
Xan rose. "I think I've had enough to drink and it's time for me to go start dinner." She hurried out of the bar before he could follow her. Not that it mattered – he knew where she lived. Maybe she should eat in the staff dining room tonight. The food wasn't that bad, and it had the added bonus that Jay never set foot inside the place.
When she reached the path outside without hearing any following footsteps, she slowed down. She'd never tell him, but Jay was right about one thing: a girl did want to feel her first time was special, because it wasn't something you forgot. She truly hoped the auction girl got exactly what Jay had described – a man who'd make her first time all that and more – instead of some rich bastard who made her feel cheap even as he paid her a million dollars. If only life were like a romance novel. Then she'd know for sure that the girl would get a happy ending.
Speaking of happy endings and romance novels – where was hers? Xan cursed, realising she'd left it in the bar. If she sneaked back in, maybe she'd be able to retrieve her book without Jay noticing her. Maybe…
Xan retraced her steps and peered through the potted palms, scanning the pub patrons for Jay's unmistakeable figure. Huh. He must have left, stumbling out into the dark to pass out under a palm tree again. That'd make retrieving her book so much easier, even if it did mean more trouble tomorrow morning.
As Xan approached her table, she realised that the surface gleamed like it had just been cleaned. No empty glasses or books in sight. Sighing, she headed for the bar. "Marcel? Did you pick up the book I left on the table?"
Marcel finished pulling a beer and set the pint glass on a tray already half-full of drinks, ready to serve. "No, Mr Felix took it. He said he'd give it back to you."
Wonderful. So Jay was probably going to pass out on her veranda or in her office. Thank God for Housekeeping, or she'd have to clean up the mess herself.
Unless she kic
ked him off the veranda while he was still conscious…
Xan thanked Marcel and headed home. She managed a smile and a nod for everyone she passed on the darkened path, but she didn't stop to chat.
Don't let there be a drunk rock star on the doormat. Don't let there be a drunken rock star on the doormat. Oh please, don't let there be…
She breathed a sigh of relief as she surveyed her rock-star-free deck. Unfortunately, her book wasn't waiting for her, either.
Bloody Jay. Happy endings would have to wait until someone found him and her book in the morning. Once again, her happiness depended on a man with a reputation for making a bloody mess of things. Wasn't that just the story of her life?
Nine
You have less than ten minutes to call me, you rat bastard, Flavia thought, eyeing the auction countdown timer. Now, less than nine.
Her phone sat on the desk beside her, tempting her to pick it up and call James so she could tell him how much other men thought she was worth. The online news sites had been calling her the Million Dollar Girl for a week now, since the bidding hit seven figures. It hadn't stopped there, though there'd been no new bids in the last two days. Social media had worse names for her, but they didn't know her real name, so it didn't matter. The red numbers stood out against the stark, white background, telling the world she was worth a fortune to…someone.
But not James.
They'd been so perfect for each other. Since forever. He'd been her first crush, her first kiss¸ her first date, her first…everything. Now, he'd be the first man to break her heart.
As the seconds ticked away and her phone maintained its stubborn silence, a splash of water landed on her keyboard, followed by another. Shit, she wasn't crying over that waste of space, was she?
Flavia swiped the tears from her eyes and stared at the screen. Now only six minutes to go.
She had to be crazy to do this. Crazy to give up on the man she loved, the wedding she wanted, and sell herself to the highest bidder. She'd proved her point, hadn't she? Men thought she was worth spending a million dollars.
And James had thrown all that away with one thrust of his hips…
She'd be crazy to go back to him, knowing he'd cheated on her. What kind of low-life paid for sex?
Her phone rang and she snatched it up. "Hello?" Hope blossomed in Flavia's breast.
"Why haven't you cancelled the auction yet?" Violet demanded.
Hope died. "I will. I'm just…waiting for James to call so I can tell him about it."
"You mean you haven't told him? I thought that was the whole point of this ridonkulous revenge thing you've got going on here." Violet sighed heavily. "Just cancel the crazy thing, will you?"
"Fine." Flavia stabbed the mouse button, telling the website to end her auction. For a moment, the screen froze, then reloaded with a pop-up congratulating her on selling her item – to someone called Lucky Jason, who it told her it had already notified about his winning bid. "Fuck!"
"What is it?"
"I told it to end the auction, so it ended it early and sent a message to the highest bidder!"
Violet burst out laughing. "You're so full of shit, V. I believed you for a moment there."
"Well, you better believe it, because I'm not joking. Oh fuck, what am I going to do now?"
"You have two choices. You can tell the guy you only made the auction as revenge on your boyfriend and get blacklisted forever, or you can go ahead and act like the whole thing's legit and you're going to go through with it. Get him to send you a photo and a police clearance and evidence that he has the money for cash on delivery, like you said in the description. Give him a crazy deadline, like 48 hours. I bet he can't give you all three of them. Police clearances take a couple of weeks."
Flavia breathed again. "All right, I will. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Sure."
They said their goodbyes and ended the call.
Somebody had won the auction to pay for a night with her. Flavia's stomach roiled. Sex with a stranger. Oh God, what if she couldn't find a way out of it? What if she had to get naked, let him touch her, let him…
She bolted for the toilet just in time to bring up her lunch. She stayed crouched over the toilet bowl, thankful that the rest of her family were out for the day, until she was sure her heaving stomach had nothing left to vomit up. Rinsing her mouth in the bathroom, Flavia eyed herself in the mirror. She didn't look like a prostitute. She looked like a travel agent. The trustworthy sort of girl people wanted to book their flights, tours, accommodation and travel insurance, and be at the other end of the phone to soothe them if something went wrong.
Flavia drew in a deep, calming breath…or at least it was supposed to be calming. She grabbed a dozen more, in the hope that together they'd have the required effect.
She had to email the buyer and tell him that the deal was off. Due to circumstances beyond our control, that particular experience was cancelled. Perhaps sir would like to book a city tour or a massage at the day spa instead?
Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. A man who was willing to pay a million dollars for sex probably had his own chauffeur and masseuse.
As Flavia sat down at the desk again, trying to compose herself, her phone beeped to indicate an incoming message.
She threw the phone on the desk and opened the email on the computer instead.
Dear Miss Chastity, she read.
In anticipation of winning the auction, I had these prepared for you in advance. Please find attached a photograph of me, a screenshot of one of my Swiss bank accounts, a copy of a current police clearance, and details of a booking at a suitable hotel, as well as a flexible flight booking to the nearest airport. If you let me know the date and time of your flight, I will arrange for you to be met at the airport and transferred to the hotel.
This time I really think I am,
Lucky Jason
She moved the cursor to reply to his email, but her curiosity won. How had he managed to get a police clearance so fast when it normally took weeks? Maybe it was fake. Flavia clicked on the first attachment.
Dated the same day as his first auction bid, it looked like Jason had arranged the clearance not long after bidding. And there in police-watermarked printout, it said he'd never been convicted of a crime.
Just because he wasn't a criminal didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Lots of men weren't criminals. Maybe the answer to why he had to pay for sex was in the photo he'd sent.
Wetting her lips, Flavia opened the picture. And laughed.
Jason had sent her a magazine centrefold of…sheer, naked, masculine perfection. His man bits were screened by a well-placed guitar, but it was clear the model didn't care he was lolling naked on a beach. Flavia's eyes caressed the lines of hard muscle up to his face…and recognised the man. Not a model – a rock star. He'd sent her a centrefold of Jay Felix, the rock star every girl in Australia…no, the world...had a crush on.
Jay Felix the rock star, darling of millions, having to pay for sex? In whose dreams?
She flicked through the rest of the documents – flight and hotel bookings for Broome – before the name of the hotel caught her eye: Romance Island Resort.
That was the celebrity place, wasn't it? The exclusive resort that everyone going to Broome asked about, but the astronomical prices were too high for any normal person to pay. She'd seen the brochure picture often enough to know it looked like absolute paradise, with the pristine white beaches fringed in palm trees, enticing you to come and try the jewel-coloured waters.
If you could afford to swim in an ocean of sapphires and topaz…
For a wild moment, Flavia toyed with the idea of accepting the travel arrangements, only to claim breach of contract when she met the man, as he wasn't Jay Felix and didn't look a thing like him.
What was the man's name again?
Flavia clicked on the police document again and this time, she paid attention to the details. Mr Jason Kendrick Felix, listed as living at a
Sydney address, born 20 June…
She didn't hesitate. Clicking open her web browser, Flavia searched for more information on Mr J K Felix.
Ten minutes later, she laid down her pen and surveyed her hastily scribbled notes. Mr Jason Kendrick Felix, known by his stage name of Jay Felix, was the lead singer of Chaya until they broke up a few months ago. He was indeed born on the 20 June and he owned properties in Sydney, Gold Coast and Broome. A hotel in Broome, to be precise – the very Romance Island Resort everyone wanted to stay at. One of the more rabid fan sites offered to give out a phone number – for a price – that fans desperate to meet their idol could contact to apply to work as his personal assistant. The ad implied that the assistance required would be very personal and quoted some of their happy customers. Flavia's personal favourite was:
"OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!!!! 1NITE SEX ON BEACH WITH JAY!!! AMAZEBALLS!!!!!" This stunning statement was credited to a user who called herself Jayz Cox Sok.
Flavia didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe a bit of both. She couldn't deny she'd often wondered what it would be like to get up close and personal with the hot rock star…maybe even fantasised about it once or twice in high school…but to go work for him, take his money, just for the chance to sleep with him? It smacked of desperation she didn't understand.
Was that why Jay had wanted to buy her virginity? Did he want her as his extremely personal assistant? Personal assistants took care of travel arrangements, appointments and all the tiny details that made life go smoothly for their high-powered executive clients. Much like a good travel agent did. Except bidding on a virginity auction implied…no, screamed at the top of its lungs that he wanted his personal assistant to gratify his sexual whims, too.
He'd seen her headless photo, so he knew whether her body appealed to him…but did he know what her job was, too? Had he somehow stumbled on her identity and all her efforts at anonymity were shot to shit?
The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3) Page 4