Chapter 11
“You did what?” Radha shrieks.
“I may have lost my cool a little bit,” I admit, getting up from the couch. I’m still wearing my dress from The Gala, since I fell asleep here while watching TV. I nearly knock over the melted remains of a pint of rocky road I left on the floor, and my face still feels puffy and raw from crying. Radha had joined me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say what had happened until now. It still feels like something from a dream.
“I know you’re not used to having guys fight over you, but this isn’t the way it’s supposed to work,” Radha groans. “Can’t you see this is getting out of control?”
“No, now I’m in control for the first time!” I argue. “I can play the two of them off each other to get what I want, and if I don’t, I can call the whole thing off whenever I want.”
“You can call it off, but that’s it, Wendy. If you want the money, you have to sleep with whoever wins the auction. If Orson wins, are you willing to either do what he wants, or go home empty-handed?”
“Yes,” I grouse, though I don’t know if I really mean it.
Radha sighs and takes my place on the couch. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she mumbles.
Me too.
—
A few hours later, after I’ve had time to change, clean up, and have a lunch of carrot sticks and peanuts instead of more ice cream, my phone buzzes with a new alert from The Virgin Exchange — a text from Cash.
I’m sorry about last night, Wendy. Please call me when you get this.
I shut the door to my room and take a deep breath. Then I make the call.
To my surprise, the screen of my phone goes blank for a moment, and Cash’s face appears. “Hey,” he says, looking happy to see me.
“Hi. How’s it going?”
“Not the greatest. Last night was a shit show, and I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I nod. “Thanks. He was provoking you, though — I see it now.”
“It’s no excuse,” he replies. “And, you may not know the rest.”
“The rest?”
He grins sheepishly. “After you left, he said some things, and I punched him a little.”
“A little?”
“Just once.”
Oh wow. “In the face?”
“Yeah, the face.”
I want to be mad at Cash, I really do — but considering how close I was to clocking Orson myself, I get it. “Did he insult you, or something?”
“No, he insulted you.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess? What did Orson do, you know, after you hit him?”
“Nothing,” he sighs. “There was no need. He successfully made me look like a moron, and then I was asked to leave.”
“Seems fair.”
“Yeah, it was. But that’s why I’d like to prove him wrong about you and me. So I’d like to take you out on that date I promised, if you’re still up for it.”
I try to play it cool, but now my insides are practically singing with joy. “Sure, okay,” I say, though not very nonchalantly.
“Great. See you tonight.”
—
I meet him at an upscale Italian bistro that smells like a dream of herbs and cheeses. He wears a striking, blue blazer that flatters his physique, while I flaunt an elegant, red dress that turned more than a few heads as I rode the subway.
He orders a nice Zinfandel, and I grin, getting used to the idea of eating in nice restaurants and drinking good wine. I can’t help starting to dream I’m going to be a millionaire soon, even if it is too surreal to comprehend.
As if reading my mind, Cash asks, “So, what would you do first with the money? Other than the vacation?”
This is an easy one. I’ve thought about it every time I’ve bought a lottery ticket in the last four years. “Get a guitar and start taking lessons.”
Cash smiles and sips his wine. “That’s great. Have you ever played before?”
“Nope. Always wanted to, but I couldn’t afford it.”
“Have one in particular in mind?” he asks. “One you’ve seen in a shop window somewhere…”
I nod, grinning. “Oh sure. But there’s no way I’m telling you. I’m buying it for myself someday.”
“Hopefully soon,” he says.
“What about you? What did you splurge on when you first got rich?” I ask, wondering if he can even remember that far back.
“Good question,” he says, stroking his chin in thought. “I didn’t actually go crazy right away. I was too busy building up the company to really think about shopping. I guess the first real luxury purchase was my Mercedes SL500 Roadster. I needed a new car anyway, though. I didn’t just decide to go buy a convertible.”
“I see,” I mumble, picturing the wind blowing through his hair, sunglasses on, driving down a twisty, country road. “What color?”
“Black. It’s the best car color; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Old fashioned,” I say, nodding.
“It never goes out of style.”
A waiter shows up to take our order, so we flip open the long, tall pads of the menu and pick out our dinners. Cash chooses mussels and clams in marinara while I opt for pesto pasta with chicken. We pour out the last of the Zinfandel, and Cash orders a Chardonnay to be brought out with the dinner.
“So, let’s say you do get rich this week: do you change your plans for the future? Do you still think you’ll go into medicine in some form?”
This is a question I haven’t truly considered. “I think I’d still like to, yeah,” I say. “I don’t think I could just lounge about all day doing nothing. I’ve been busy either working or studying nearly every day of my life. How could I just turn that off?”
Cash nods. “It’s impossible for some people, even if they try. You might take a nice vacation, but after a few days you’ll be bored to death and wondering why.”
“Exactly. Though I would probably never wait tables, do dishes, or mop a floor ever again,” I say, smiling at the prospect of coming home after a long day and not smelling of grease and sweat.
Cash chuckles. “Just like I’ve never mowed another lawn or cleaned another gutter.” He lifts his glass for a toast. “To never doing jobs we hate.”
I raise my glass to his, and we drink.
We continue talking throughout dinner, which is so delicious there are times I have to ask Cash to repeat himself because I was too busy savoring every bite. He asks about Radha and her plans for the future, as well as the guys I’ve dated in the past, of whom there are very few to speak of. I learn more about his company and how it’s grown from a small workshop and programming outfit.
“One new idea at the right time can really change everything,” he says. “If not for that single inspiration, I don’t know where I would be right now.”
“Oh, you’d be fine,” I say. “You’d be working for someone like Cassius Swain — you might not own the company, but you’d still be making a killing.”
He grins, dipping a piece of bread into his meal’s sauce. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“No,” I agree. “But this is better. I mean, you’re only, what, thirty-two?”
He sighs. “Thirty-four.”
“Oh, my mistake,” I say, feigning a gasp. “You are old.”
“Ha. Ha.”
When we finish dinner, I feel a serious buzz from all the wine. I wobble for a moment as I get up, trying not to laugh too loudly in the fine restaurant. Cash takes my hand and helps me out; I’m fine, but I don’t protest. He doesn’t let go until he’s helped me into his limo.
“Where are we going?” I ask, lying back against his hard, broad chest.
“Just a nice little spot that I know,” he says, stroking my hair back. I watch the city roll by through the tinted glass of the car and feel Cash’s heart beat. His arm wraps around my stomach, holding me close, and it feels so warm and safe, I have to fight to stay awake. I could rest in his embrace like this for days, but soon we arrive.
In front of us is a massive skyscraper, one of the many found in midtown. For some reason, it actually looks quite familiar.
“Where are we?”
“My company’s headquarters,” answers Cash. “Come on.”
He buzzes his way past the security desk and takes us to a bank of elevators. He punches a five-digit code into the elevator’s call switches, and when we get inside one of the cars, it takes us all the way to the top.
The doors open up to the roof, wind blowing cool against my bare legs. Cash takes off his blazer and wraps it around me, and I inhale the musky notes of his cologne. He leads me through a small garden and to an observation platform. I look out over the side and my jaw drops in awe: the night skyline of New York is lit before us, breathtakingly beautiful. Along the avenues, we can see the lights of the cars like glowing arteries, and yet from up here it looks totally peaceful.
I’ve seen images of the city from on high throughout my life, but now I understand: nothing compares to really being there. It makes you feel like you’ve made it — like you can do anything. It defies belief, that something so big can look so small from the right perspective.
“It’s an incredible view,” I say.
“Yeah. I’ve really missed it.” There’s a hurt in his voice I’ve never heard before.
I turn to him. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t come up here in years,” he replies. “Not since… a breakup. A really painful one.”
I rub his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I understand.”
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling at me. “I was engaged many years ago, to a woman named Erin. She was the best thing in my life; I thought she really cared about me. Then she left.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That’s awful.”
“It gets worse. She left me for Orson. He fed her lie after lie, and she believed him. That’s why he made me so angry last night.”
“Yeah, no wonder you hate him.” I can feel his pulse quickening, his muscles shifting as his anger gathers. “But wait, where is she now? She isn’t still with him?”
“No, of course not. Once Orson had his fun with her, he tossed her out. She was only with him a few months. I’d like to think that if he stole her from me because he truly loved her too, then I would still hate him, but I’d let it go. But what he did… it’s truly unforgivable.”
I nod, blinking away a few tears.
“I couldn’t hurt his business. We’re in completely different fields, and he’s got so much more money than even me, so there was little I could do. Then I learned about The Virgin Exchange, and I found one way I could be a thorn in his side. So here we are.”
“I’m so sorry, Cash. That’s awful,” I say.
“And I haven’t been up here since,” he murmurs, but it’s barely an afterthought as our lips close the distance between.
It only takes a second for the hum of the city and the bluster of the wind to vanish from my perception; there’s only him and the salty taste of his lips and the mint on his breath. Eyes closed, I fall into the sensations passing through me. A current of need is emanating from my warmth to the rest of my body, and I moan as his lips and tongue electrify my senses.
In that moment I could forget about the auction and the millions of dollars. I want Cassius Swain to take me, to thrill me this night, and without thinking, my hand moves down to his belt, looking to loose the buckle.
I’ve almost got it when he grabs my wrist and pulls it back away from him. “Wait,” he mumbles. “We shouldn’t.”
Wresting my hand from his grip, I go for the zipper of his pants. This gets him to grab my hands and to force them to my sides. He’s strong, and holds them there until I stop fighting.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Slowing this down. We can’t have sex yet. We have to wait until after the auction.”
No! The way everything felt, it was too incredible. I’m tired of waiting. “Forget the auction! I want to do this now.”
“Oh, so do I, Wendy. Every instinct I’ve got is screaming to take you home and give you the night of your life. But you have your future to consider. We have to wait until the auction so you can get paid what you deserve.”
Cash lets go of me, and it’s a good thing too, because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You did not just say all that crap about the money,” I growl. “Are you serious?”
His face falls as his mistake becomes clear. “I just thought…”
Billionaires. Everything is always about the money with them, I think as I make for the elevator, tears already burning my cheeks. When am I going to learn?