Elijah
I check my watch. Seven minutes to…
Good. Early is on time. On time is late. Late is...fucking unforgiveable.
I’m always early, but I never come too soon. Elijah Kennedy is a man that doesn’t need forgiveness. Not for this, not for anything.
I know that I took a risk hitting the squash court before my date tonight, but it was time to fucking shut Steve down once and for all. All week I have had to listen to everyone tell me that his backswing was the best they had ever seen. That pompous, entitled ass had let the lessons his father paid for go to his head.
I guess everyone needs something to do during the day, even those fucking trust fund princes that don’t have to work, but no one brags about winning on my court except me.
It’s not just about establishing dominance on the court either. Between the auction itself and now having to share my date with three other fuckers, I needed to destroy something. Mercilessly beating Steve at squash feels so good and brings no small degree of satisfaction to me, but it pales in comparison to tonight.
I will take Sofie away from the other bidders, as if they are not even fucking there. This isn’t like that bitch Wanda. Sofie is a fucking goddess and I will make her mine. The other bidders are nothing compared to me.
I've been presented with a unique opportunity tonight. Usually, I get my kicks from business and sports. In addition to once again earning my title of squash champion, I work out daily, I swim regularly, I play basketball twice a week, and I go out for a paintball weekend at least once a month.
Being the PR manager for BioKin, the company I started with my good friends, I am constantly on the move, glad-handing large donors, investors, and pharmaceutical companies, as well as entertaining those scientists that we are trying to recruit...or steal.
Business is war, and I am the type of guy who gets what he wants. Tonight, I know exactly what that is.
After a quick shower, I donned my Alexander Amosu suit, accented with a splash of Tom Ford Oud Wood, and I am out the door.
The cut of my Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition sits better on me, but it seemed in poor taste to wear a suit that cost so much more than I had donated for this date. I mean, it was for a fucking charity event after all. Nevertheless, $150,000 and I still have to share her.
My driver had the door of the black Lincoln open and waiting for me. Normally, I cruise the city streets in my black Mercedes S65 Cabriolet, but I wanted to make an impression tonight, especially when we are on our way back to one of my penthouses, and I need to use both hands.
The driver closes the door after I get in, then without a word, he gets in the car and pulls out onto the road. I don't have to tell him where we are going. It’s his job to know.
We pull up to the restaurant, and I open my own door and get out before the driver has a chance to. Angelo greets me at the candle-lit entryway of Le Cinque Viti, and he escorts me personally to the table.
“Good evening, Mr. Kennedy. You are the first of your, uh, party to arrive.”
Usually, he is smoother than that. Any illusion of the entire restaurant not knowing exactly what is going on with this date is immediately dispelled. We walk by several tables, with couples at various stages of their meal—moving closer to each other just as each bite brings them closer to the meal’s end: finishing their coffee so they can leave and start dessert.
The reality of the situation comes rushing back to me as we get to the private table in an alcove hidden behind a vine-covered trellis. Five seats. This feels less like a date and more like a fucking business meeting.
Maybe I should’ve worn the Stuart Hughes.
As Angelo leaves, the waiter replaces him.
“May I get you something to drink, sir?”
“Grey Goose Martini, dry, three olives.” It’s my first drink of the day. The extra olive helps get past the glass cleaner flavor of the first drink. The next few never seem to taste that bad.
Versatile, as far as drinks go, the martini gives you a quick buzz that you can sober up pretty quickly from as well or continue to drink straight into a fucking blackout, though that does take some stamina.
“Right away, sir.” The waiter leaves to get the drink.
I position myself so that I am facing the opening to the restaurant. I’ve never enjoyed the feeling of more going on behind me than I am aware of. Looking out, I breathe in the atmosphere.
I’ll have to figure out how to get rid of these other bidders. It shouldn’t be too hard, once I see what I am up against. Sizing up my opponents—or rather, their weaknesses—is one of my innate skills.
Sometimes dating is war too.
The waiter returns with my drink, and I sip it, wondering about my competition. Whoever they are, I have to compliment them on their taste—Sofie is exquisite.
I am not typically one for idle thought, but I find it difficult to resist while waiting. I remember the day Sofie started working at BioKin. As PR manager, I make it a point to introduce myself to the new interns. It usually only takes only a few minutes, and if well scheduled, can typically be worked into travelling from one meeting to another.
When I met with her group, though, I could hardly take my eyes off her. That was the first time I had stayed for almost the entire tour of the company, as if I had needed a lesson on the company that I had founded.
At the time, I was careful not to focus too much attention on her, feigning interest in the practiced speech of the HR tour guide and spreading my gaze across the rest of the group, many of whom were attractive in their own right, none of whom could hold a candle to Sofie.
It would stand out to them if I treat her differently than the other interns, but it was damn hard not to just spend the whole time staring at her. Harder still not to invite her to dinner.
She is different from any woman I have ever met. It was not just her amazing body, with her full, perky breasts. She arouses something within me I have never felt before, bewitching me with her first glance, and she has no idea who I am.
Yes, she likely knows me as her boss, but she doesn’t know me. All of that will change tonight.
This was alien territory to me. I was the hunter, never the prey. Nothing about this situation was right. I need to get the upper hand here.
It would’ve been easy if there was no cap on the bidding. I would gladly pay more for the chance to spend an evening with Sofie—I would gladly have crushed those other bidders. And with the backing of the third most affluential pharmaceutical research company in the country, I doubt it would have been difficult.
Halfway through my martini, I notice a familiar face walking up to the table. Assuming at first he is just stopping by to say hello while on his way to his own table, I marvel at the odds of meeting him here tonight.
But when he gets to the table, assesses the chairs, and tries to figure out where the most strategic spot left to sit is, I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh, Lucas, say it isn’t so!”
Lucas, one of the co-owners and founders of BioKin and one of my best friends, turns a lovely shade of embarrassed, grinning sheepishly. “Hello, Elijah. Fancy meeting you here.”
I drain the rest of my martini, regarding my long-time friend.
“Alright, Lucas, spill it. Why Sofie?”
Lucas pauses for a moment to think. “I don't know that I can really describe it. There is something about her. Something undefinable.” He sits, thinking for another moment, before giving in. “The words may escape me, but I know I want her. I need her!”
I stare into my empty glass, knowing exactly what he means, thinking that tonight may be more difficult than I first thought. Looking up, I wave the waiter over. “Another martini for myself.”
Lucas turns to the waiter. “Whiskey for me, thanks.”
We sit in silence, waiting for our drinks, our usual banter, refined over years of working and playing together, somehow missing entirely. How funny it is, my good friend and I, upon realizing just how similarly our tastes in women run, are so completely thrown off our game.
We’ve been friends for too long for something like this to get in the way, though. The waiter returns in moments with the drinks.
Raising my glass, I say, “A toast to the best man winning the girl.”
“Hear, hear.”
Smiling, a thought occurs to me about a unique opportunity that Lucas’s presence offers. “How is the S10 project coming?”
Lucas throws me a sidelong glance. “Elijah, can’t you leave the office at all? You really want to discuss that now?”
No, discussing our latest and most successful option for erectile dysfunction was not the most prevalent topic on my mind at the moment. I let him know. “Not in the least bit, but now I feel less guilty should I get questioned for this ‘business expense.’ So far, the night has only cost the company $300,000.” I raise my glass and add, “And the drinks, of course.”
“Betty in Accounting is going to have a field day when she finds out that you are declaring this.” Lucas chuckles to himself. “You know what would really make it a business expense is if Ian were here.”
“Huh, I wonder who our other bidders are.”
We both look at each other for a second and start laughing.